Remodel from Hell

Someone once said “No good deed goes unpunished” and that seems to hold true in about every area of life that I can think of.

No matter what you do to try and help some people, it seems like your good efforts bring on some form of punishment after the fact.

I recall most vividly helping my church do some work only to see all of it torn out a year later for yet another new addition and although there was no real punishment involved there, it sure felt like it to my soul.

Most of you can relate to having something like that happen in your life and it sure leaves a sour taste in your mouth for the next time that same person is looking for volunteers. Trixie is the ultimate helper and she will bite on the same bait over and over even though she is pretty sure there is a hook in it. Even a fish with a pea brain learns pretty quickly not to take the bait over and over.

But not Ol' Dutch, no siree Bob. Ol' Dutch has gotten a tad wiser with time and it’s easier for me to pass on the pain when it’s offered. Well maybe not wiser but more cranky and with that comes the ability to say no.

I pride myself on being able to put aside a sure road to hurt and pain when I am asked to volunteer and that my friends is true personal empowerment. No longer do I have to look forward to having my feelings hurt after helping someone and their ultimate slam of some part of my participation. I go about my life happy as a pig in a mud hole with nary a care in this world although I have to live with a certain amount of condemnation from well-meaning folk for not helping.

There are only two people I never say no to and although that gets me in plenty of trouble, it’s probably natural for a father to dote on his two kids above all other people. And no one dotes more than Ol' Dutch.

Most of you are up-to-date on our recent trip to Pocatello, Idaho, to help my Daughter Cricket and her husband Cap remodel their house. For those of you not so fortunate to have read my past columns, last Christmas they held a party at the newly acquired home and tore out all the plaster walls and ceiling. This led to what is called “freezing” as Idaho winters do not tend to lean toward tropical and balmy.

Ol' Dutch is not a stranger to helping out his kids as I remodeled their basement one time in Lawrence, Kansas, and last summer went back to Kansas to help the No. 1 son remodel his house. Whatever it is about these two kids that make them buy houses and gut them needs to be addressed quickly as I am getting too old to do this year after year.

So here we are in Idaho and although just saying Pocatello does kind of give me a pleasurable sensation in my mouth, this project has drug on into overtime with no sudden death in sight. For my part, I have been doing the wiring and for a normal house this is not that hard of a job but with these two, it has extended into something akin to illuminating the 2016 World’s Fair in scope.

I have never seen so many outlets, lights, three way and four way switches nor miles of wire in my lifetime of construction. These two kids have decided that if one is good four of anything has to be better.

Our weekends usually involve some planning sessions for Ol' Dutch so that I am on the same page as to what they want done for the week. Of course that seems to change by the next weekend and Ol' Dutch is back to moving things around, stringing countless rolls of additional wire and it’s the redoing that is worst of all for me.

Now of course they never say it, but since I have Trixie as a witness it’s the old “oh no, you did it just like I told you to,” before I have to tear it out once again.

Like I said, I have gotten pretty good as avoiding volunteering at about every venue I am at and if I can get Trixie to quit volunteering we still will have a shot at the “good life.” Now if I can just find a good psychoanalyst to address these two kids “remodeling” issues Ol' Dutch will have conquered life for sure.

Hiking on purpose

Trixie has always been one to like a good hike and as many of you know Ol' Dutch has put in a good mile or two while fishing or hunting. A recent trip to Idaho, however, made me realize that there is where the similarities end.

We pulled the Conestoga to Idaho last week to help my daughter Cricket and her husband Cap with a remodel project on their house. To kind of give you a heads up on this endeavor, they had purchased this cozy cottage on a quaint shady street near Idaho State University.

I guess this is the “go to” neighborhood for people in this town as “everybody” wants to live near there. For Cap and Cricket it is extra handy as they are both professors at the college and can walk to work rain or shine.

But back to my story. They purchased this house last fall and for a Christmas party all of their friends came over and they tore out all the walls and kitchen and bath. Now when Ol' Dutch says all he means right down to the studs and rafters.

Some months later Dad got the call and so here I am trying to work a miracle in 30 days and get it wired, plumbed, insulated and sheet rocked. Please pray.

We had Saturday all planned out on what we could do with all of us working when suddenly Cap came down with the green apple nasties and he was confined to a small distance between his bed and the porcelain throne.

Seizing upon the chance to not work, Cricket, Trixie and I headed out to see some sights and took a drive up toward Lookout Mountain. Now when Ol' Dutch heard about that place I was envisioning a drive up to an overlook where I could sit and watch the world pass by.

Little did I expect that every mile along the road there would be an actual hiking trail to explore. They had nice cutesy names like Peach Orchard Loop, Cherry Creek Loop, Alpine Ski Loop, Miners Creek Loop.

I would suppose that having a trail that ended up back at the same spot you began would be a good thing in the end but somehow Ol' Dutch just cannot for the life of me figure out why anyone would go on a hike to nowhere.

My hikes always have a purpose in mind like finding a deer or elk, bear or moose or some secluded stream or lake to cast a fly into. To simply walk for the pleasure of walking seems to me to be a little bit on the crazy side.

Somehow Ol' Dutch was able to dodge the hiking part of the day by reminding the girls that this is rattlesnake country and passing a road sign that said “Lower Rattlesnake Road” did wonders for my cause.

Of course I do realize that to go about anywhere you either have to double back or make a loop and this day was no different as we continued on around the mountain range and up to the Snake River.

Now there is something Ol' Dutch could get excited about as there were people fishing and Cricket and I got to watch them for a while. Trixie had stayed in the truck in the parking lot perusing the Internet on her phone and was treated to a couple doing the “the horizontal hula” in the car next to her. That gives a whole new meaning to going fishing to soak your worm to which Trixie rolled her eyes. 

But all in all it was a good day with the No. 1 daughter and we did end up making a loop – albeit in the truck – which was good since we wanted to go home at the end of the day. 

If you are into hiking just to hike I can appreciate that but having a real purpose in mind keeps Ol' Dutch more interested. But who knows, maybe someday I will take one of those side trails and talk Trixie into a little hula of our own.

Busking to Idaho

The fall came with a rush for Ol' Dutch and Miss Trixie and we soon ,found ourselves on the road again in the big old Conestoga.

Around Christmastime last year my daughter Cricket and her husband Cap bought a house in Pocatello, Idaho, and with youthful vigor hosted a party to celebrate. However, this party was billed as a “demo party” where their guests proceeded to rip out all the walls and ceilings in the house.

As you know, though, “the best laid intentions often go awry.” If you do not know what that means it best can be summed up in this particular situation as, “Dad will come clean up the mess."

Oh they meant well and got in a few loose electrical wires and boxes and actually swept out the floors but that's about it. So some 10 months later, off to Idaho Ol' Dutch and Trixie headed on a bright and shining Saturday morning.

The trip was slow of course pulling the massive RV but the colors were gorgeous across Colorado and into Utah. On Sunday morning, we slowly found our way North from Price, Utah, and up and over the pass there at Helper.

On the down side of that pass we encountered a traffic jam of monumental proportions and after a brief intermission we were told to expect a delay of at least four hours. Most of the cars turned around and headed for new routes but a quick survey of those by Trixie and we could see it would add 200 miles to our trip and take more time to traverse.

We found a pull off on the side of the road and waited for the road to be cleared. Having all your “stuff” along in an RV has certain advantages when traveling as lunch and other amenities are just a short distance away at any one time. Other travelers could be seen climbing the hills to use the “facilities” so we were spared from that at least.

To escape the confines of the truck, Ol' Dutch grabbed his guitar, his harmonica, a chair plus a large ice tea and set up camp alongside the road. A quick survey of the situation and I could see that as soon as the road was clear we would be overwhelmed with a procession of cars that would make the exit of Moses from Egypt pale in comparison.

Now as many of you know, Ol' Dutch is always on the lookout for a good thing and making money in any shape and form is first on that list of many. It didn't take me long to find a bucket to place on the side of the road with the word “Tips” emblazoned in bold black letters on it.

Trixie made the comment that now I was a busker and it took me a while before I could finally look up that word on the Internet.

Here’s what I learned: street performance or busking is the act of performing in public places for gratuities and “busking” is particularly associated with singing or playing music. In many countries the rewards are generally in the form of money but other gratuities such as food, drink or gifts may be given.

So there I sat by the side of the road and when the road cleared ahead of us an endless stream of cars and truck passed, each waving and smiling at my attempt to make the best out of a bad situation.

I am not sure if it was the speed of traffic or the poor performance on my part but my bucket was lacking at the end of the day. I was hoping for bills of course as any change tossed out of a car at 40 mph might end up causing a black eye on yours truly.

So although I was a tad discouraged one must remember that it takes a while to build up a following and I soon expect to be making gas money anytime a road side delay is experienced.

At least the people who drove by had a smile and a laugh as Ol' Dutch's expense and if that made their wait more bearable, long live Busker Dutch!

Living Online

Even though I am a big fan of smart phones, I do see that they have added more complexity to people’s lives. Studies show that we are all becoming more and more stressed due to the fact that we cannot get away from being constantly “on.”

I can recall being on vacation and having to find a pay phone to call my employer to see how things were going. Even in daily life, time in the car meant “alone time” when traveling to job locations because no one was constantly ringing your cellphone to ask for favors.

Some people have actually solved this problem by doing what is called “turning off their phone.” I know, crazy, right? No matter where you go you see people basically married to that pocket communicator and even on dates people will sit there and text who-knows-whom while their date does the same.

Ol' Dutch is about as bad as the next in this regard and I am starting to be a tad concerned that I have caught the dreaded “text” disease. Every ding or vibration of my phone has me reaching for that tool of the Devil to see who had a birthday, what politician lied now, who got shot, what kid needs money or Trixie's latest instructions.

The latter is the worst as I used to be able to say I didn’t hear her or remember her instructions but now she has legal proof that she sent them to me via text.

Don’t get me wrong, there are wonderful advantages to having these new-fangled contraptions such as being able to see the granddaughters pet the cows, do a dance recital, sing a song or pick their nose. Well, most of it’s good.

One thing that has come to Ol' Dutch of late is the advent of online surveys. If you have not gotten into this aspect of modern connectivity then let me take a few moments to explain.

Someone, somewhere will decide that they need a sampling of Americana and will offer to pay any qualifying online idiot to fill out a survey. This can be anything from soup to nuts and includes political choices, food shopping trends, new car buying decisions, health care insurance questions and about anything you can dream up.

I am not sure where they get their money but just this past week a crisp new $2 bill came in the mail for about five minutes of my time. That would translate into about $24 an hour and that ain’t chicken feed in anyone’s books. Another survey soon arrived and I now have another $5 coming in the mail.

At the rate these invites are escalating I soon will be on my way to making real money on the Internet from the comfort of my recliner. No more will I have to hustle and compete in the real world for dollars as I can just wait for it to come to me in my post office box.

Now you may assert that this is not “real” money. But, let me remind you, all businesses take a while to build up and I am working on this on a daily basis by surfing the Web for more opportunities to voice my valued opinion.

Since Ol' Dutch spent his entire life providing for a spouse and kids, he never did get to have a good boat. But now I can see that with just a little bit of work that dream may now be a reality.

My brother-in-law just bought a new boat and it was somewhere in the $22,000 range so taking that price into consideration Ol' Dutch only needs 6,286 more surveys to get that new boat.

I will have to up the rate of survey taking however to make this work because at the current survey payment schedule it’s going to take me about 120 years to save up enough to make a trip to Bass Pro Shops. I am not sure even they will go that long on payments?

Sounds of Silence

Ol' Dutch has suffered many a year with a hearing loss and it’s a quiet world where I live.

Doctors have told me that people who suffer from such a malady can get it a myriad ways. They say it can be anything from shooting guns, loud music, loud industry sounds, train whistles or any other loud noises.

Now Ol' Dutch worked on the railroad for many a eon and some people would say it was all those train whistles across 2.3 million miles riding a train, but, I have found the real source of hearing loss among men. Marriage.

No matter what married couple I talk to it seems I get the same story from the woman of the relationship about how the man either cannot hear or maybe chooses not to. My not so lovely ex used to say I had selective hearing and maybe there was some truth to that as it kept me from hearing too much from her.

I am around a lot of people in the RV parks who have been married 40, 50 and even 60  years and they all tell the same story. Old John just cannot hear Joanne and so she ends up taking care of a lot of details for him since John didn’t want to do them anyway. There is the truth that Old John could hear just fine before he got married so there has to be some correlation there.

Several weeks ago my good friend Susie Q gave me a hearing aid. Now Ol' Dutch has been approached many a time to buy one but being part Scotch I realized that I could buy a boat or new gun for that kind of money so I suffered in silence. And the fish, elk, deer and bear could care less if I can hear or not so it’s a win-win deal.

Perhaps that kind of silence is what people really need to find, anyway. You see if a person only hears half of what it going on around them life is really twice as good.

You only hear half of the insults people may throw your way, half of the news which is mostly bad, half of the complaints of those around you and half of the requests for favors from your friends and neighbors.

When a person stops to think about it, this is a great way to reduce the stresses in life by -- you guessed it -- half.

Suddenly, long winded sermons become bearable, kids who are crying don't drive you up the wall, dogs barking next door are not a problem, politicians don't seem half bad, spouses become bearable and friends’ requests for a loan are magically reduced in number as you just don't hear them.

Why just last night Trixie and Ol' Dutch were up on a mountain bear hunting and on the way out in the darkness night, Trixie kept whispering something about a “tree.” Now I didn't want to spoil it for her and tell her I have seen trees before thereby lording it over her so I just smiled and kept walking.

Little did I know that “tree” was really “pee” and she about wet her pants before we got to the truck. So there are downsides at least for Trixie living with the hard of hearing but that is her cross to bear for choosing someone as good as me.

After all who else would take her on a date bear hunting over a dead elk carcass in the woods on such a gorgeous evening? She ain't gonna get that in California with her fancy friends, no sirree Bob.

That kind of thing only comes about from true love. She did remark that the forest was full of Gremlins and eerie sounds as we walked out in the dark which is EXACTLY why Ol' Dutch prefers to live in silence.

No telling how many bears have almost eaten me or Bigfoots have tried to abduct me but Ol' Dutch just walks along in silent ignorance of the ghouls around me, happy as a pig in a mudhole.

Jack of All Trades

We all know people who seem to be a jack of all trades and master of none.

What you may not realize is that this group breaks down into two smaller categories. Some of them (let’s call them the Doers) can actually do a lot of things halfway successfully while the other bunch (Undoers) can’t accomplish much at all

Knowing someone from the Doers can come in handy when the sewer is plugged, a water leak is causing a flood in the kitchen or some other pressing issue that “the wife” needs done.

A Doer person has watched enough HGTV and made so many trips to the local hardware storethat they always know where to start on a project. Not only that, they also know when to quit and call in a professional. They are experts at taking an item apart and not putting it back together correctly.

An Undoer, on the other hand, is a person who “thinks” they are an expert on the matter and commence to mess things up even more than when they first started.

A small water leak for them ends up requiring a new sink to be installed due to damaging the threads on the old one during the repair process. Or a routine oil change results in needing to buy a new car because they forgot to add the oil back in after changing it.

Now, while one may be an Undoer for most of their life, there is still time to become a Doer.

Ol' Dutch can attest to the fact that the older I get, the more careful I am when fixing something. Gone are the early days when I was short of time and money so no matter what I fixed it never seemed to stay fixed.

Why, one time I built an entire house with a screwdriver, a hammer, a skill saw and a drill and that is no exaggeration. It’s what I had and it worked out although I had to go back and remodel several times over the years.

Still after all these years, I’m not sure if I had to remodel because of my inexperience at the time with construction, the tools I had on hand or just the normal “wife wants it different” syndrome.

You men know what I’m talking about. No matter what house you buy, the “perfect one” that she chooses will need a remodel in due time. She knows it from the moment she selected the house and at just the right time, she’ll let YOU know that it is time to remodel.

For someone in the Doer group, it’s no problem to tear out a wall, drop in some new fixtures, add an island and counter top plus tile the kitchen floor.

But for the poor man in the Undoer category, it’s quite a different story. Oh, he gets it torn out and a real effort is made the first weekend or two but suddenly elk season looms and with football also starting afresh the poor spouse finds herself living in what is known as “a mess.”

No amount of “encouragement” from the significant other can get the project moving again once it hits this stage and only with a great amount of persuasion does the man ever try and finish what he started.

Finally, the man will call in his buddy or some professional and just pay him to finish the job. This does not come about without a lot of thinking but the sudden realization that a plumber, electrician or A/C specialists is way less expensive than a divorce lawyer.

If you have a member of the Doer group around your house,count yourself lucky. Otherwise, if your man is like Ol’ Dutch and responds to the call of the hunting season, you will most certainly find yourself perusing the Yellow Pages when you need something done right. 

The Grim Reaper Cometh

Today more than any other I was reminded that the Grim Reaper is creeping ever so much closer to my soul as I forgot to write this column for the week. They do say memory is the first thing to go.

Such forgetfulness can be worrisome but the doctors tell you that even though you lose your keys, if you know what to do with them once you find them, then you don’t need to worry a lot about losing them in the first place.

Most men rely on their wives or girlfriends to keep them informed of important dates and that’s why I have Trixie.

She is usually spot-on when it comes to those things. This time, however, our lives have been reduced to early morning hunting, late-night socializing and trying to keep the rest of life rolling which means that writing skipped my feeble mind.

The wonders of modern convenience, though, never cease to amaze me and even now I am writing this in an aspen park at 11,000 feet to be zipped to your local paper by some method I cannot even begin to comprehend.

Last Sunday we had another rousing round of southern gospel singing at Aspen Ridge RV Park and I felt pretty good being able to remember at least most of the old songs. But, then, phrases like “on a hill far away” and “some glad morning when this life is o’er” are pretty much ingrained on my soul.

Playing a guitar and singing at the same time is akin to the old test of rubbing your belly and patting your head at the same time so at least Ol Dutch has a little bit of light left in the old bulb.

The long walk up to where I hunt every morning at zero-dark-thirty does make me stop and blow like an old horse and it seems that it's harder every day let alone each new year.

Regardless of what Trixie may say (and certainly thinks), Ol Dutch is the epitome of hard mountain man physique. 

 I may not be the picture of champion-ironman-training-manhood like Trixie was used to but I do bring a few things to the table where those guys fell short. I’d like to see one of those fellas put fresh game on the table, stock the larder full of fish, nap in the afternoon or be so forgetful it allows Trixie to get away with just about anything by saying, “oh, you just don’t remember that.”

So if you are beginning to forget things in life just make sure it is things that are not worth remembering like your golf score, the last card game with the ladies when they beat the pants off you and that big elk you missed.

And always remember this: never pick your nose on a bumpy road. That’s how Ol’ Dutch nearly poked his eye out. 

Purses and Backpacks

Now most of you that know Ol' Dutch long ago came to the conclusion that he must shy away from anything which shows his effeminate side.

This did not come about easily. It took many years of refusing to hold the wife's purse while she tried something on before it took hold for good. And, still, I’m not sure if it were my refusal or the divorce which really finalized that situation.

Someone once said that the reason divorces are so expensive is that “they are worth it.” Now I don't know about that but for Ol' Dutch his life of hunting and fishing instead of working did coincide with that ugly event so maybe it’s true.

Whatever the cause the outcome has been better than first anticipated. Here, I am now, a man without a bag-to-hold on any shopping adventure Trixie drags me on as she will never let loose of the reins of her glorified duffel bag she calls a “purse.”

Elk season has begun for Ol' Dutch and with that comes what is known as “quiet time.” That is never in huge supply with Miss Trixie around so it does give me a chance to recharge and think about some of the deeper things in life. And, this week, I thought about having a purse.

In preparation for bow season, I was amazed at the do-dads and dew-hickeys that were needed in my backpack to feel like I was complete in the woods. It also helped me to understand a bit why women need a large purse.

In my pack I noticed some camouflaged paint and as I thought about it there is not much difference between that and the war paint women carry in their satchels. It serves exactly the same purpose which is to hide from unsuspecting prey anything that would give away a true identity.

Further inspection took me to the elk urine and elk-in-heat potion that is sure to seduce any bull worthy of the name. Perfume does exactly the same thing and many a bull has fallen to the wafting smells and aromas of a pretty lady flaunting her stuff.

These scents are not to be confused with “cover scents.” Too much of that whether you are hunting for bulls or men is not a good thing. But, I’ve probably said enough about that, if you get my drift. Well, maybe not my drift as it’s pretty rank at the moment.

One pocket in my backpack has an elk bugle call and a cow call. These have been known to come in handy a time or two and any woman worth her salt knows just when to make the appropriate gestures and flirty conversation to attract the bull of her choosing.

As I looked further through my backpack I was amazed at the plethora of items I am hauling into the woods on my back. They include lighters, ropes, knives, plastic baggies, snacks, meat salvage bags, batteries, phone, emergency blanket and even a fake elk cow decoy.

One early morning out hunting I reflected on my backpack and how it has everything that I could possibly want.

Then, I recalled, the many, many times I’ve been missing something --- be in a Bingo dauber, gun ammo, lip balm, new guitar strings, phone charger or fishing bait --- and I’ve asked Trixie if she happens to have the said item. She dives into her bottomless bag and comes up with a solution to my every need.

I would not be a bit surprised to see her pull out an expedition tent out of that magician’s hat complete with Oxygen and crampons for a full ascent on Mount Everest.

Oh yea, she already did that once. Dang, if only I had a purse like that.