Nuzzle.

No writing at the moment! Too much to do...look at this darling with his little claws and trills and purrs--just like a cute kitty:

In Which I Pet a Giant Fish....

My bragging about Friday's hot weather on Facebook inevitably led to the chillydrablackluster rainy weekend we are experiencing at this time. I pulled on another sweatshirt around 8:15 am Sat (Yes, I'd already had my coffee/crossword fix), to see who was pounding at my door...

Surprisingly, it was 'Dozer Davy', Pott County's competent bulldozer man. I say 'competent' because the other dozers around this county play with little hills of dirt for days on end causing much eye-rolling and many caustic comments about their so-called dirt-moving 'abilities'.

And our county 'Pott' is short for Pottawatomie County, not the 'smokin pot' pot, but the Indian/Native American Potawatomi or Pottawattamie, which actually don't even really reside here, but in the next county over-- Jackson County actually has the 'Indian Reservations'. (I have my reservations too.)
And KS pot is/was called K-Weed back in the day, but ya didn't smoke it-- you pulled it out of the creekbanks and fed it to your pigs. Only idiots tried to smoke it, but the law caught too many people in the 70's that were trying to grow the South American kind and got their panties in a bunch trying to distinguish between pothead pot and k-weed and banned everything that looked like a japanese maple leaf, thus denying pigs a good food source and making extra work for the farmers who had it all cut down. It still appears here and there in patches and ditches (and in the back of Paula's sr pictures as she leaned against a farm rail fence) No, we are not potheads!

But I digress. Dozer Davy had something to show me, so curiously, I jumped in his truck due to his rare enthusiasum. He's normally a man of few words, although if he's talkative he'll resort to bantering with the other local bluecollar men-- things like "Well, kiss my ass on Broadway" and other assorted farmer slams and quips. Knowing that he likes to set bank lines, I've been harassing him all year to take me along one morning. He failed to do that this weekend but he wanted me to see what was in the big fish tank, thus appeasing his guilt.

We drove out of town and tiptoed across someone's newly planted lawn to look at a monster. Petting the head of a 65 lb flathead was kind of cool; I even tried to stick my fingers by his gill, but not wanting to get my arm ripped out of my socket should he get riled, I withdrew my hand out of the cold water. A 30 pounder lay nearby all but shadowed by this grandfather fish that picked it's unlucky day to bite at a baitfish on a bankline. Noodling would be crazy--people that do that are darn lucky they're not drowned, but a large one like this is probably pretty rare. I'd only seen heads before, nailed on a shed by my cool Uncle Darrell...

I posted a generic pic of a 57 lb fish, as my battery was dead in my camera...

Influences...

Yesterday afternoon, Brig’s friend stopped by to tell me that his dad has inoperable brain cancer…we talked for quite a while and it was pretty sad. I heard more news of the same caliber when I went for coffee this morning, so I decided to run by a pan of cinnamon rolls to Brig’s friend, who enjoys ‘mom-made’ baked goods, as his parents are divorced. The dad himself (age 65) answered the door—tears streaming down his face…It was hard to talk and say the right things especially when you don't know the person very well...

After that, I decided to drive over to the town of Wabaunsee, small enough that one can raise chickens in your yard, if one so chose, without much comment from any neighbors, as they have them too, and maybe even goats!

Wabaunsee is the home of Jaguar Joe, the only guy in KS that I know whose living room (which faces the main road) opens up to encapture whatever Jag he’s working on at the moment. We also come to this town for gun purchases in a guy’s basement, and other than that, I am not aware of any other ‘business’ here.

Jaguar Joe, a Vietnam Vet with white Einstein hair, bought this abandoned old limestone grocery back in 1983. The very next year, he was awakened when the back wall crashed away from the structure…as he restored the property, he extended the home and added many tall southern windows—this area is his art studio where he creates his wax sculptures to be cast later in bronze in the backyard.

There not being many (any?) Jaguars in KS, its easy to spot him coming, especially when his Jag was painted as a huge red/white/n blue wavy flag—with large paintbrushes and house paint. Up close, you can even see the texture!

I hadn’t seen him in a couple years, since I had stopped going to the Columbian Artist Group, but since I heard he has cancer too, I had to visit. “Damn! If this is what makes you come see me, I need to get cancer more often!” and “Listen bitch! Stop using your ‘lost glasses’ as an excuse and make some new art!” He’s very vocal and opinionated! Despite his pain, Jaguar Joe was very inspiring and showed me some sculptures-in-progress, some websites to visit, and the spirit to get motivated on some new art.

I will definitely drop bye more often, re-join the Artist’s Group, and yank him along with me to keep his mind on art and away from the pain!

If I can…

: )