Blue Eyes wanted her hair braided before going on the ride. I had never braided hair before. Here is a picture of my first attempt.
I got better at doing it after a couple tries. No really, I did!
Next I will learn the elusive French braid. Time to watch some instructional videos!
Finished the trip a couple weeks back. Was it fun Josh? Did you remember your Dad? How about the views? Josh, was it epic?
I'll get to answering those questions soon enough. First let me say, never try a high mile, first time, motorcycle trip in 100+ degree weather. Second, my booty was sore, my arms were scorched, and my eyes were toasted. It was exhilarating and exhausting. I am a better man for it.
The night before the trip saw Blue Eyes and I packing up the bike. We knew hot weather was in store so we packed water bottles in the freezer and light clothing for the bike. We both are nervous and it shows. The tingling of anticipation was in the air and we stayed up way too late. I felt like a kid trying to sleep the night before going to Disneyland.
In the morning we rode up to Dennys and met the fellow riders, eight of us in total. Blue Eyes and I met the fellow travellers and had a nice breakfast. They call themselves "God's Hogs and other Critters". They are a tremendously nice group of guys and gals.
We took some photos in the parking lot and embarked on the journey.
An hour or so south of Spokane we stop on the first break. My butt was already telling me how wize it was. But I figured I could endure and so I did.
A short time later, perhaps 30 minutes, our fearless leader has a flat tire. Much conversation is had and the solution is for his son to bring him a truck and trailer. His weekend was over.
The, now seven person, posse rolled out. The miles from here to Walla Walla were short, the temperature was getting annoying, and my butt was screaming.
On a side note, the motorcycle has a custom seat. It's made from a silicone gel and is designed to offer the most comfortable of rides. The problem is that I don't have motorcycle booty yet. Riding a bike puts you in an unusual position and the seat won't help much if you are a new rider. Every spring, when the motorcycles start coming out, the riders have to acquire their finely honed hides again.
After Walla Walla it became endurance. The temp had shot up, the seat was uncomfortable, and the miles seemed long. Miserable.
We had a brief respite as we crossed Toll Gate pass. The temps on top were significantly lower.
About 30 min before making it to Halfway, Oregon Blue Eyes got sick. Not a puke and can't go on sick, but a pull over I need a drink NOW sick.
I felt horrible. I'm willing to push myself and in some ways I am masochistic, but Blue Eyes shouldn't be in pain to pursue my adventure. As we rode into Halfway I just wanted her to be comfortable.
Halfway was beautiful. The little lodge we stayed at was terrific. The restaurant cooked a pizza that was awesome.
Blue Eyes and I hung out in this gazebo thingy and ate pizza. The only thing that could have made it better to be there would have been to stay one more night. The lodge was amazing.
In the morning we forged on. The Temps were down and the scenery was up. We twisted thru amazing canyons and beautiful hills. This was what I was here for. I could almost feel my dad wanting to carve the turns. We were in motorcycle territory.
We had discussed the night before and exit strategy because of the high heat. We would turn off the two lane twisty road early and head for a faster highway. The group didn't want to be caught out in the heat anymore.
After arriving on the faster highway I started to relax a bit. I knew this highway, I've driven it dozens of times in my big rig. Home would come quickly.
Boy was I wrong! The heat penetrated me to my core, the bike was blowing fire on my legs, and my butt was being kneaded into split pea soup. Ouch!
We stopped at a rest stop before climbing White Bird pass. "Zen and The Art of Motorcycle Maintenance" mentions this area. I reflected on my dad, the motorcycle, and this area. But I couldn't groove too much on my emotions, the top of White Bird would bring heat.
We stopped in Grangeville for lunch. The air conditioning felt great. The sandwich was good. How on earth could I go ride some more? The ride was almost unbearable.
The group vowed to take a break about 40 miles away, just before going down the hill to Lewiston. One couple said they had a deadline in Spokane so ,when we pulled in to break, they soldiered on.
We poured water on our shirts. We put more sunblock on. We pumped each other up. "It's only 3 hours to Spokane". A break in Lewiston, a break after that, and we are home. Grunt, grunt, scratch, scratch.
Sufficiently cooled down and pumped up, we started down the hill to Lewiston. Within 10 minutes I could no longer breathe.
This wall of 110° air smacked me. I couldn't breathe! My arms were on fire. All I could do was fix my eyes on the bike in front of me. I forgot about my ass.
The leader suddenly darted into a gas station at the bottom of the hill. As I pull in Blue Eyes starts waving at some shade with grass. I pull up to the pump and she hops of and scurried for the shade.
The next 10 minutes will change the trip and alter Blue Eyes and my relationship forever.
I tell the leader I'm done. I'm gonna get a room for the night and go the final two hours in the morning. I can't do it anymore.
His wife had been crying and said she couldn't go on anymore. He agreed that staying the night was wize.
I went to tell Blue Eyes.
She was in tears. She looked up and cried out, "I'm sorry, I just can't go on".
My heart fell. She was worried that I was going to be mad. She was worried that I would tell her to "suck it up, we are going on". She was ready to be yelled at by a man. She had been hurt by men before.
This crushed me. I was that man. I was the uncaring, insensitive, and cruel jerk. I could not consider others. In my days of drinking I was a very mean man. But recovery has changed me.
As I looked upon the gorgeous face of Blue Eyes I wanted to weep.
I told her that we weren't going to go on any further. We would find a room and leave in the cool of the following morning.
The hotel was five minutes away. We cooled down for over an hour at that gas station to get the nerve to drive the five minutes.
Put a blow dryer on high. Put it as close to your lips as you can (Don't burn yourself!) and I think you can replicate breathing that hot of air. It was nuts!
At the hotel room we began worrying about our friends who had traveled on. I texted him and hoped for the best. An hour later he called and said that they had made it. Made it! That's great!
They had made it to Lewiston and had gotten a room. Driving on was nuts to them also!
One man did make the final leg. It took him 3.5 hours to travel 110 miles. He was nuts but he was safe.
The trip into Spokane the next morning was uneventful. My butt got a bit sore, but he ride was nice.
Thus endeth the trip.
But the story doesn't end there.....
Upon sharing the adventure with my step mom, she told me about some of the motorcycle trips with my dad. Seems that they would make plans to go and, regardless how hot, he would still go.
My dad was nutso!
I'm grateful for the trip. 796 miles was alot! I will go on future trips to exciting places. But if I have to drive long distance in the heat.......I won't be like my dad!
Today, July 6th, is my sobriety anniversary. It has been five years since alcohol has passed these lips. Five years of repairing decades worth of destruction. There is still much work to be done.
I am told that I am in the big leagues now. Five years is a benchmark, a milestone of recovery. Never in my wildest dreams could I ever have imagined life without alcohol for even a day, but five years!!!! Woot!!!!
Five years and one day ago I hit rock bottom. My alcoholism took its toll on everyone whom I knew. Some paid more, but it cost everyone for me to be a drunk.
Sometimes when drunks and druggies get together they play an informal game of "I can out bottom you". Some view this activity as silly and ridiculous, while others get quite upset at making light of tragic times. I don't bother playing the game. Most simply can't out bottom me. I'm a winner! A winner at failure!
Those early days in recovery were so scary. I had absolutely no idea if I could stay away from the drink. For so long my world revolved around getting the next drink. How could I convince my (ex)wife to go get another bottle without her worrying about how much I drank? Maybe I should buy a few bottles, but that never worked either. So when recovery came barging into my life I wasn't sure I could pull it off. Drinking was my life. By requiring me to quit, you were telling me that I could no longer be comfortable and alive.
I had tried all the tricks in the book to curb my drinking. The tricks never worked, for an alcoholic they never could. I was certain there was an elusive combo or formula that I could find where alcohol would work again. My favorite was waiting to drink til noon. Alcoholics drank in the morning. This was effective, until I discovered how awesome alcohol in the morning was.
I also suffer from terminal uniqueness. Many do. If I refuse to share about life with another person, I start to become unique again. It's a brutal cycle. As long as I'm convinced that nobody else has the same issues or problems, I will suffer alone.
That's the biggest thing now, I'M NOT ALONE!! I was alone in a church full of people, I was alone in my home, and I was alone at work. Every stinking place I went I was alone in my head. Alcohol solved that problem. It slowed down my thinking until I could manage.
Thank you to my many friends in recovery and to my family who has chosen to love me. These last five years have meant the world to me. I can't begin to tell you what you mean to me.
What a ride folks! This living open and honest is wild. The secrets almost killed me, the truth makes some people want to kill me, but in the end it doesn't matter. None of this was about me to begin with.
I'm just a broken man traveling and enjoying the scenery. I didn't make the man nor the scenery. God did.
So, I also want to thank my Creator.
God,
You knew that I would fail life in the most spectacular ways, yet you still loved me. Never once did I suprise you! You have been so gentle and patient with me. Even today as I write this you show me compassion and forgiveness. My response to being cared for by you was to run out and be hypocritical and judgemental, yet you still loved me.
All I can offer you are these filthy rags, but you told me that's all I needed to bring. Thank you.
While I was out injuring my fellow man, you had already paid the price to redeem me. I was a fool and I worked hard at proving it.
Thank you Father for sending your Son. I'm so grateful that my relationship with you doesn't depend upon my performance. As much as I want to serve you well, I find within myself no ability to carry it out.
You tell me that I can rest in the finished work of the cross, yet I still think there is something I can help with. Then, when I do think I've helped, I become boastful and proud of the work I've done.
I'm an arrogant and unforgiving man. But Lord, those people are stupid and haven't forgiven me!
I love you Lord, Josh
Thank you reader for reading these musings. I've been toying with the idea of making an appointment to write more faithfully. Perhaps I will. I'm also toying with the idea of submitting them to be published. Perhaps someday that may happen. Some editing will need to be done!
Five years.
Five years!!!!!!!!
I've witnessed the impossible.
Ok folks....let's get some things straight....or at least firmly crooked. Feelings are messy. Judging a situation based solely upon ones feelings is dangerous. That's why this blog is so volatile. I share about my struggles and feelings, and unfortunately they sometimes run counter to facts.
No, this isn't my attempt to print a retraction, or somehow clarify, or edit a previous post (I can do that without writing this). This post is a refresher in the scope of what this blog is.
Joshua and The Battle of....
The title says it all really. I battle stuff and people. It's my take on it. Not theirs. Simple.
If it's about me, who then is this Joshua?
I'm a recovery man. I'm coming up on five years sober. It took a mountain of pain to change me. I only hope it was enough so I never go back. The darkness was a brutal master.
I'm a selfish jerk. Maybe if others did things correctly, in other words MY way, then I wouldn't be so selfish.
I'm sarcastic. See last paragraph.
I enjoy life. Addictions had shut me completely down. I sacrificed so much at the altar of addiction. So today I live, I try and go do adventures. I enjoy many hobbies and the people that do them.
I'm an intelligent smartass. If you are too stupid to know why, I won't bother explaining. It wouldn't help anyways.
(I really want to edit myself on that last one. I'm gonna take some heat on that I'm sure!)
I love people. Yes, this includes all the outcasts and forgotten ones. Chances are if you have royally screwed up I will like you. If you still think that your poop don't stink then I won't have much time for you. Broken people are beautiful. They are the rare gems. It's people who have messed things up and feel unlovable that I love the most. There is an intense connection that happens when two men share their failures.
I'm narcissistic. This upsets many because they think that they are the important ones. Obviously they can't be, they aren't me! If they were me, they would get it. (Too much?)
Ok, I'm done trying to think of who I am. I explain a little bit more about myself every blog I write. So scroll back thru the archives and enjoy. You will find a man who is despicable, uncaring, self-centered, and unlikeable. You will also find a man who is broken and knows it. It is difficult for me to convey feelings thru writing. So be careful while reading, sometimes I really laugh alot while typing.
I'll just keep sharing my feelings. I know they aren't reality. How stupid do you think I am? They are FEELINGS, not facts!
For example.....You may feel angry that I'm a jerk, but your anger is a feeling, therefore I'm not a jerk.
See what I did there? Clever eh?
Relax folks. I talk about deep stuff sometimes, I'm not afraid of many topics, but at the end of it all I'm just a guy sharing his thoughts.
We good? You ok?
Don't worry, if I haven't offended you yet, I'm working on it. It takes a while to offend everyone. But if my feelings offend you....then grow up baby!
I'm laughing so much at writing this post. This is fun stuff!!
Be well out there folks. Try and find someone who needs some compassion and give it to them, you will need it someday also.
The trip is this Saturday! All the nervousness, anxiety, and planning will culminate in will hopefully be an epic adventure!
The idea originally was to ride my dad's old bike on the trip. That's not really an option now, the old bike needs a repair. Besides that, the old bike isn't really designed to take a big guy like me (and his lady friend "Blue Eyes") on such a long journey. So, I went out and got another motorcycle.
The trip won't quite have the same feel being on the new bike, however, it will still be epic.
The temperatures are supposed to be hot this weekend. Long rides on hot bikes will have its own struggles. Perhaps I am slightly self-abusive but I think the heat may add to the weekend. I will be fighting thru memories of my dad, why shouldn't I be uncomfortable as well? My sweat will help conceal my tears.
It's morbid to look forward to being uncomfortable. Am I deranged? Yep. My dad rode in all sorts of weather, I will try and fill his shoes.
I guess refueling is very pleasant for a motorcycle driver. Something about cool fuel and the location of the tank makes it enjoyable. This makes me giggle a little. There are videos all over YouTube of guys enjoying the feeling. Sorry for mentioning it to you sensitive readers :-)
There will be at least 8 bikes on the journey. I've never ridden with a group that large. I hope there are no butt heads in the group. All of us are riding cruisers, so I expect we won't be traumatizing any cars out there. Better not be, I like being polite on the road.
I booked a room in an old lodge down there for Saturday night. It's rustic, quaint, and cute. Hope the air conditioner can handle my demands!
I expect to take many photos and blog much during the experience. I'm really excited!
I've been getting used to dad's bike. I took it out a couple of weeks ago on a 40 min drive. That was fun and uneventful.
My second ride out I met up with my friend Alan at his house. He had just inherited a 1986 Harley when his friend passed away a few months back.
Alan and I are having similar experiences on the bikes. We both have the joy of riding them and the memories of who rode them. I'm grateful to have Alan to go thru this with.
Alan and I rode up Mt Spokane, had lunch, and then over to Greenbluff.
We stopped at the lodge up on the Mountain for lunch. We were the only patrons and the owner was super nice. It's gonna become a regular destination I'm sure. The restaurant is rustic and comfortable. It's a great spot to relax.
I had led us up the mountain and then Alan led us to Greenbluff. On the way there Alan opened up the throttle a couple times. Would the old Kawasaki keep up? I smiled as I flew by him. Yep, the Kawasaki has much power! Grunt grunt scratch scratch!
Manly men doing manly things. Big throttle small brains. It's fun!
Greenbluff was awesome. I had a huckleberry icecream and relaxed in the shade. I could get used to these rides!
The day of "The ride" is coming up soon. 650 miles in two days. Not a whole lot, but enough to stretch me. I will need to be comfortable with the bike cause I won't be very comfortable with my feelings.
I'm getting excited about the ride. The old KZ900 LTD is a fun bike. My dad chose well. It's fast and also good to look at going slow. It's a win win!
The trip to Hell's Canyon is coming up quickly. I've been out on a few rides getting familiar with the bike, they have been fun.
My girlfriend, we will call her "Blue Eyes", went with me for a ride up Mt Spokane last weekend. It was an adventure! Isn't that what riding is all about!
The ride started at my Step mom's house. I checked the bikes fluids and concluded that a bit more gas might be nice. I added about a gallon from a gas can, we put our gear on, and we headed out.
I'm not used to having a passenger on a bike, so the first couple miles were awkward but ok. However, the bike wasn't performing well. It lacked acceleration and it sputtered when given more than half throttle. Thinking that perhaps the fuel I added was bad, we proceeded on to Alan's house to meet up with him. He might have some fresh fuel there and that could dilute the bad. Or so I hoped.
Alan's house wasn't more than 15 minutes away. The bike occasionally ran really bad, but sometimes seemed to run fine. Motorcycle maintenance. I like the book, despise the practice!
Somewhere around 10 minutes into the trip to Alan's the rear brake started sticking. I pulled over, looked at it, and concluded that it was fine. Perhaps the foot lever got caught on a burr or something. I figured if it acted up again I would flick the pedal with my foot to dislodge it.
We get to Alan's without anymore problems. The bike seemed to sputter some but surely the fresh fuel will help.
Alan had the fuel. We added it and took off for the mountain. It's only a 30 min drive. The bike still is sputtering. I'm beginning to be concerned. Are the carburetors getting plugged up? How will I know?
About 20 minutes into the ride the rear brake grabs hard. I only have time to pull over. We pull into the drive of someone's house.
The rear disc is glowing and the brake fluid is spurting out and igniting on the disc. Blue Eyes looks concerned. The fire worries her. Somehow sitting on top of something that just caught fire doesn't appeal to her. Women...go figure. I blew on the flame and it went out immediately.
While we let the brakes cool down I went for some water. I had stashed a bottle under the seat earlier, so I opened up the seat. There, just as I grabbed the bottle, I saw the problem. The water bottle was able to move around and get sucked into the air cleaner opening. My cleaver idea on where to put my water was the reason why the bike was running funny!
I started the bike up just to see. Oh man, it was alive again! The power, the speed....oh baby!
I figured out how to remove the brake pads from the rear caliper. Without them the brake would no longer seize up, and the front brake would still provide plenty of stopping power.
Let's ride!
Blue Eyes expressed her concern about entering the highway from where we were at. We were on a blind corner and it was a bit scary. But she didn't know the bikes secret weapon, more power!
I gave it the beans. The old bike roared out onto the highway with the vim and vigor of a teenager. I was smiling from ear to ear. My back was getting sore from Blue Eyes hitting it, but it was still fun!
We got to the top and rested in the shade. I chirped on about how much of an adventure we were having, Blue Eyes just smiled. I think she likes it when I get excitable, she just tries to be coy about it.
We came off the mountain and I had Alan lead the way.
Alan's Harley makes alot of noise when he gets on it and I can feel Blue Eyes arms tense up when she knows I'm gonna go for it. It was fun having her get nervous. It's a man thing. I can't help it. Grunt grunt....scratch scratch.
We made it back to Alan's without any further complications. I mean, other than Blue Eyes occasionally slapping me :o)
I remembered that the suspension on the bike was adjustable so I turned it up to the top setting. That seemed to take care of the bottoming out we had experienced a couple of times. My bum was sore, so was Blue Eyes.
When we arrived back to my Step Mom's place we told her about the ride. She admonished me for accelerating fast, something about how my dad was the same way and she scolded him til he accelerated more sanely. I'm not sure what she was saying. Accelerate slower? As if!!
Riding that bike is pure joy. Even the mishaps and sore butt are a part of the journey. It is a "Be in the present" experience. It's therapy for a busy brain.
I want Blue Eyes to ride with me more. I suppose that means taking her feelings into account and being easier on the throttle. This maturity stuff is annoying but good.
The gentle pitter pat of large V-twins can be heard in the distance. Mixed in with the thumping is a different tone, it sounds like Formula One cars. Gradually the sounds increase, their echos giving them a deeper resonance. They finally come around a corner, there they are, the wildest assortment of misfits you've ever seen. But these guys aren't a bikie gang, they are all broken men who have found each other. They are on this ride to give them a retreat. They ride to be in friendship.
One of them has a special reason to be on this ride.
I am he.
The ride leaves at the end of June. It's only for two days. Only 600ish miles. Probably the most emotional miles this man will ever have. It's the innagural ride of me on my dad's bike.
He loved going on huge weekend adventures, I never went with him. We talked about riding together this summer, he didn't get better. He would regale me with stories of the rides, I simply never got into it.
I don't think I ever rode beside my dad. I'm tearing up just thinking about that. How is it that the only passion he had for my entire life I never participated in? What kind of screwed up son was I? Yet another thing I can't change, but will always wish I could. Sorry dad.
Ouch
So the next few blogs will be about this ride. It will not be possible to overstate the importance of this ride. It means that much.
I love the bike dad. Wish you were riding it instead of me. Wish we could find Hell's Canyon together. I'll take pictures and think about you.
My excursion into dating land has commenced. I'm going to describe my feelings and struggles, but I'm going to try and carefully parse out my words so that the women don't feel as tho I am writing about them.
Let's start at the beginning.
Life was going smoothly a couple weeks ago. I had my routines, my ambitions, and my leisure time all worked out. You might say that I had become comfortable. It felt good.
My counselor said that comfort is dangerous for me. I'm very intelligent and if I'm not being challenged I could find myself fading away into an emotional black hole. My counselor is nutso. I worry about her.
Ok, maybe she isn't nutso, but I am uncomfortable now. If that was the goal of dating, then I succeeded! Damn I am uncomfortable. I feel like the first person riding a roller coaster that just got built. It's probably safe.....but can you truly be sure?
I have so many fears about dating. Most aren't even about the women. Don't get me wrong, women are terrifying creatures, but I fear myself. I utterly failed so bad in my past that I simply can't trust me now.
I have a fear of being rejected. If I'm totally smitten with a lady and I get rejected, that hurts. I realize I must grow up in this area. That's why I have the dating many women requirement, to help prohibit me from attaching quickly. But if I'm starting to dig on a woman, how do you figure out how not to smother her? How do you keep your emotions in check and let her start to dig on you? I guess I would mow it over in my head and slowly drive myself nuts. Seems effective enough.
I have a fear of women attaching to quickly to me. Yep, I am a flipping hypocrite! I get all worried about what it looks like for me to form quick attachments, yet I don't consider that the women may be going thru the same issues. They have the same fears I'm sure.
I have a fear of going on multiple dates and concluding that the friend zone is the best zone. Whether that is based on my decision or theirs, it is a horrifying conversation to imagine happening. Nobody likes to be let down. Somebody gets sad when the friend zone is talked about.
I have smootchie fears. The fear of physical intimacy. When is it proper to hold hands? Can you kiss without acknowledging a mutual desire for a more meaningful relationship? I've taken to shaking the hands of my dates. I feel that is honoring to them and it avoids this issue entirely. Shaking their hands or giving a hug seems safe. I guess kissing is a threshold, or a milestone, into a more serious romance. That's why I won't be kissing my dates. Or at least I won't kiss and tell you here! Just kidding!
What if she is waiting to see if I am attracted to her? Maybe the kiss is her way of knowing I dig on her. Maybe I kiss them all so it loses its meaning. Maybe they will read this section and be repulsed!
I am way over thinking this stuff! Take a chill pill dude!
I can't do it. I can't go on dates and kiss. Not if I'm going to see others. That doesn't feel genuine or honest. Does this make me an uptight prude? Probably, I dunno, whatever.....I'm just uncomfortable with the idea. I think I'd be bummed if the woman I am on a date with just finished snogging their last date.
Dating is a complex cauldron of fear and excitement, exhilaration and despair. Who thought that dating was a smart thing to do? Oh yea, my counselor!
So here I am. I've gone on a few dates. I have many more to go on. I'm meeting many wonderful women and some crazy ones. By going on a date with me they get both!
The dating site has some trolls on it. Some are women who seem like they are prostitutes, some are women who are gold diggers. There are super needy ones, and ones that just want to party. I guess that is to be expected. The ones I don't understand are the ones that give out very little information. Are we men so dumb that anything more than a paragraph about you will confuse us? Don't answer that ladies!
It must be difficult on the women to post their pictures. Men are pigs. We get the cartoon wolf eyes when we see a lovely lady. Aaaaooogaahhh!
Some old dudes pursue much younger women. Kinda creepy dudes. Grow up!
Whew! I'm glad we are working on fixing the world's dating problems. Someone should have been on this year's ago. So don't worry folks, I'm sure by the time I'm done dating I could write a book. I'm amazed nobody has ever written a book about dating. *wink*
Here is what I wrote about myself on the dating site. The bold is the header under my picture. Let me know what you think.
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Outside of the box
Glad you took the time to read this. I'm a pretty easy going guy. Some might even call me a loveable teddy bear!
I'm a tall guy, 6ft 4in. My friends might describe me as a big guy, barrel chested, not overweight. But, let's be honest, they're my friends, I'm overweight. I've changed my eating habits and the extra pounds are slowly shedding off. I'm not doing a, kill me now, crash diet. I've just started eating more wisely and my size is reflecting that choice.
I'm a truck driver. I guess that's why the extra pounds came in the first place! I drive regionally in the Northwest. This puts me back in Spokane a couple of times a week, but not on a specific day. I schedule off 4 days in a row a month, usually at the end of the month. My schedule is fairly flexible, just depends on what the plans are.
My hobbies include fishing, flying rc planes, disc golf, golf golf, hiking, camping, movies, off roading, plays, and weekend excursions to see a new waterfall, mountain, river, or whatever.
I've been restoring a 1956 Chevy pickup that will be ready for paint in the next couple of months. Looking forward to taking it to the drive in! It's been a fun project. I enjoy sitting in it and imagining those nice country drives.
I am outgoing and like to be active. I also enjoy staying in and hanging out. I love cooking. I like finding those strange eats and trying them out. Finding new and unusual restaurants is definitely something I dig on.
I write alot. I've had an active blog for the last four years. It documents my struggles with life and various humorous things. The struggles? Yep. I have had some. I've been sober since July 6th of 2010. Recovery means the world to me. I have many deep relationships with men that have helped me to become the man who I am today. I'm an honest and loyal man. It took a colossal amount of pain to change me.
I know, it's scary stuff finding out a guy has a rough patch in his past. I wish I didn't! However, recovering from the rough patch has made me more sensitive and caring. It's also made me strong and dependable.
My life is filled with humor and grace. I have seen the painful side of life and it molded me into a kind and compassionate man. I find myself often helping men thru their struggles. I actively sponsor two men right now. (The group I am in is called the Samson Society). We are a company of Christian men who share the encouragements and challenges of living in a broken world.
Overall I am witty, intelligent, caring, and kind. I value honesty and compassion. I'm not looking for a hook up, a fling, or a one night stand. I want to get to know a genuine woman and have many fun dates. If it develops into something serious that would be great, but I want to date first and get to know you.
So then, what am I looking for in a lady?
Someone who understands recovery and struggles. Perhaps she had her own struggles or she has helped others thru theirs. Life isn't easy. If she gets that, then she is awesome.
She competes intellectually. No bimbos please! She is into books. I like reading and having deeper conversations.
She has her own quirky ways. Women who know who they are and are comfortable with themselves are a huge plus. If you love yourself then chances are I will be completely into you. Confident women are gorgeous.
She is flirtatious. I'm a flirt. Affection is huge. Snuggling up or walking around holding hands is just awesome! Passion....yes please.
Her body type isn't really much of an issue for me. Just like yourself, chances are I will also! Let's be real, I'm no skinny dude, but I take care of myself. Be the same.
Well, I suppose that's a start. If you want to know more then send me a note. I think you will find an intriguing man that you would like to know further.
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My mom really liked it. My step sister said it was terrific. One of my guy friends said that it made him feel like dating me! Another said I did an awesome job selling myself. What do you think?
Did I present myself well? Is there enough there for her to grasp who I am? Was I too wordy?
I'm so nervous! I was speaking about being nervous to a lady who had responded to my profile. She said that it is ok, nothing to be nervous about, she doesn't bite!
I should have said, "That's great that you don't bite, how about a little nibble tho?"
Before you refer me to item 3 from my last blog, let me explain. I'm a flirt. I have a sexy sense of humor. This doesn't mean I want to play strip twister with her, I'm just a flirt! It also doesn't mean that I don't want to play strip twister with her. I just like to flirt! Get over it prude!
But I didn't flirt with her. I froze. That is why I'm needing to write about this. I need to be myself. She needs to fall in love with the authentic me. I can't do counterfeit Josh anymore.
If she knows the genuine me and we fall in love....wooohooooo!!!!!!!!!! It's twister time*!!!!!
* Josh wishes to make aware that twister time would come after altar time. No females were harmed in the writing of this blog. Your experience may vary. Some have experienced these side effects.....
Lol
I've taken the plunge! I'm starting to move into the dating scene. In this posting I am going to document my basic plans for dating. I'm not sure I can keep the plans, but at least we will have a place to identify where I failed!
1. At least ten dates before anything serious. This doesn't mean ten dates with the same woman, it's taking ten different women on dates.
My palms are sweating just writing that! WTF am I thinking here? That is just plain daunting! How is this middle aged pudgy dude ever going to find a date???
Takes time I guess. Time. Uggh
The idea here is to guard against my natural proclivity to attach quickly. This gives my dates and I the freedom to be ourselves with no unnecessary burdens. If they truly grasp this concept they could even know what number they are in the lineup. The clever part of me wants to say, "Oh babe, you are number one", to all of them. I need to work on getting a smooth deep voice for that :-)
2. Once the ten dates are achieved then I can begin contemplating serious stuff with one. The serious stuff will last a minimum of one year before engagement. This gives us ample time to see how we each function in many situations. It allows enough time to pass so we can have some disagreement and see what that's like.
Sure this seems simple. Sure seems like I just express myself about why I want to wait and she will understand. I wish it were so simple, however number three screws up number two.
3. No sex until marriage. No running the bases. What is second base anyways?
This seems impossible. Flat out nutso!
Women, you are simply amazing sexual creatures. I dig on you. I want to....ok Josh, keep it from getting randy here.
I want to do the cuddle thing. I want to kiss. I want to hold hands. Hands off coed showering sounds fun! Ok, maybe I can't do that last one :-) Do you see the dilemma? If I'm getting serious with a woman and we totally dig each other, how do I keep her peaches on the tree? I like peaches! I want to shake her tree!
4. Ok, there isn't really a number four. Gotcha! We needed a break from all that sex talk, am I right?
Folks, I want to give my future dates the ability to be themselves. Affording them that chance also gives me the same opportunity. We can learn about each other and help minimize the risks inherent in dating/courtship.
This isn't a set of rules placed to make me feel super religious or a punishment of any kind. I want to find the love of my life. She is out there. She is brilliant and witty. Shy and flirtatious. She is tough and tender. This means taking things slow, giving myself time to be who I really am.
I think if a woman is serious about her quest for a man then these things could appeal to her. It may mean alot to her to know that I really care about not hurting her.
Just received a note informing me that my driver manager has transferred to a different division of the company. This means that I get a new one. This new one is not as experienced as my prior one. I don't think he knows me. This makes me anxious.
I've had three driver managers since I started at this company. All of them have been fair and good. My first manager got promoted and is now an even higher mucky muck. He and I still talk occasionally, he's a good dude. All three were able to help me out when I needed to be home. They contributed to my recovery.
My anxiety isn't about my new boss being fair or good. I do my job better than most and I'm appreciated, I have clout. The anxiety isn't even about staying busy, the company is super busy and is growth minded, my job is pretty secure. My recovery life is pretty routine now, so I don't think the anxiety comes from possible scheduling conflicts.
To be direct, I have no idea why the anxiety hit. It just slipped in. Like some rogue wave in the ocean, my anxiety appears to come out of nowhere. I've always been an anxious guy, makes me feel nutso sometimes. This little blast is no different.
It has been a long process to learn how to relieve my anxiety. Writing has become part of my process. Blowing up my sponsors phone is yet another. I'm sure he and other friends will get an earful today.
They help.
I'm glad they don't find me exhausting. I know I might if I got phones calls about seemingly trivial things. Well....that's not strictly true. I enjoy comforting others and I know how small things can wreck ones day.
The anxiety is over now. It passed somewhere in the preceeding paragraphs. I'm so grateful to have tools to work on my thoughts. I can slowly pour an egg of comfort into my bowl of confusion and temper the insane batter. My tools are comfort food for my soul.
Calm down and carry on Joshua.
If you aren't familiar with "Zen and The Art of Motorcycle Maintenance" then perhaps you should take this moment to go order it, read it, then come back and read this posting.
We good? Did you read it? Good ending, am I right?!! Who saw that coming? Whoa!
Ok, now, don't spoil it for me! I'm only halfway done!
This book is freaking me out. Sure it got some motorcycle stuff in there, but it's also philosophically rich. It, so far, has pressed the boundaries of what could be considered normal thought.
I'm digging it big time. Let me lay some reasons why on you:
1. My dad read it and grooved on it. I had no idea that he liked it until after I talked with mom. So now, with every chapter, I find myself straining to decode what it was my dad liked so much. Not an easy task. I'm trying to wrap my mind around a mid-twenties version of my dad. He didn't understand himself! Now I'm gonna? Yeah right.
2. I don't think many people think very deeply. This isn't to say that most are idiots without the savant part, I just think most people are happy running along in the treadmill of average. As long as there is cheese and water, the mice are happy.
I see people fall into their little bubbles of belonging. With each pat on the back they reassure themselves that they are original and have the market cornered on living right. It's not easy to step back from society and form one's own thoughts. Some have said that it is impossible to think original thoughts, but they probably heard that on the evening news.
3. The book taps into my fear of my former self coming back to life. I hate this fear. I think that returning to my former self is so remotely improbable, I am unable to imagine a story where that future is even possible. But some do. Some people get recovery, thrive in it, only to return years later to being a more vile version of their former selves. I would rather eat a bullet than return. That darkness was too fucking bleak.
4. The book gave me permission to think irrationally. More specifically, I can think rationally about the world, but I don't have to explain it to "them" in a way that they find rational. So it ends up being that "they" only think I'm being irrational. If they only knew.
5. I'm becoming a motorcycle dude. Dad left behind a 1976 Kawasaki KZ900 LTD. It is gonna be mine! So I find myself daydreaming about long rides thru sweeping canyons and up tall mountains. Boom baby....that's me looking cool. Man that's a sweet ride. What is that ride? It's no Harley I've ever seen.
Speaking of dumb people. Why is it that Harleys are the go to bike of the "rebel"? If every rebel buys one, then how rebellious is it if you own one? Way to be yourself! Go buy another Harley t-shirt dude, we weren't expecting that from you. Get a wallet chain while you are at it. Stupid.
Ok, I'm not really hacked off at the Harley dudes. The bikes are pretty, sure they are obnoxiously loud sometimes, but they are sweet. But, come on man buy something you truly original and cool. Fanatics.
Don't send me hate mail mouth breathers!
Eh, whatever. I'm digging the book. I can't wait for the next chapter. My mind is being challenged. I'll post something about it when I'm done.
Maybe I will become obtuse. Some say I already am.
On the way to go fishing we found this little bird, preserved pretty well, in the back of my friends boat. We had stopped to get fuel and there it was, laying in the back by the seats.
So, I picked the little fellow up and tossed him in the trash. We filled up and went for a smoke break before continuing our journey to the lake. That's when the idea struck, I could give someone else a great story to tell. An epic story. A story unlike any other. (Cue the dum dum dumm music)
Here was what I did:
I had almost finished my smoke. I took great care to let it burn out in a way where it still looked lit. Crushing it out wouldn't have worked. Then I stuck the cig on the birds beak and propped him up on the top of the fuel pump. The next person to fill up would be in for quite a suprise! A little dead bird that maybe died from smoking!
Brilliant or bogus? Who knows.....but I sure laughed as we drove away. I only wish I had photos of the finished product. Hope I made someone's day! It made mine :)
On Wednesday we had dad's service. It was held at his church during the normally scheduled service time. The chaplain of Spokane County's jail spoke, I spoke, and the pastor spoke. It was followed by a pie social. Many family members were there as well as friends.
That last paragraph was dangerously close to sounding like a newspaper article. Sheeesh Josh, put some inflection in the words!
Well....ok....Here goes....
Wednesday night was wonderful. I was a bundle of nerves. I didn't know if I should cry, argue, run away, or freeze. Would I be able to honor my father and express his impact on my life?
I think that happened.
The service was recorded. I know I have access to the audio, I still have to contact the video guy and see if I can get that. Either way, I will post a link to it when I figure it all out.
I think you will hear me nervous for a couple minutes. You will recognize the internal struggle of being authentic. I think you see the real me come out.
But, that wasn't always the case. Somehow I was blessed with the gift of gab. I knew how to speak in front of people. I knew how to phrase things so they were more likely to be heard. I could fake it completely. I could appear good, righteous and holy. I was a pain in the neck!
Being fake would not have honored dad. He loved me warts and all. That's what I wanted to bring. I think it happened that way.
Let me switch gears just a bit.
The time spent with friends and family, that culminated with the service, did volumes to help my grieving. It's like gradually a burden was lifted. I didn't even know the burden was there!
Dear reader, thank you for your prayers and kind thoughts. This wretched sinner got to honor his father by speaking in his father's church, and the building didn't ignite! Whew!
There were quite a few people who came up afterwards and told incredibly personal stories of how my dad cared for him. Those people were so nice.
One of those people was a woman whose husband was a pastor who ended up getting a mental illness. As he deteriorated he was rejected by many. I suppose rejected is the wrong word. Many people likely had no idea how to love and care for a broken man. Tragic. Brutal. Yep.
His name is Gary. Dad loved that man. He would visit during the week. He had an appointment every Saturday to visit him and eat at Burger King. I remember wanting to see my dad on a Saturday and him being careful to set the time correctly so he would not miss that meeting.
I sat and talked to Gary for a while. We wept together. I hope there is someone who can visit him. I think I might want to get his number from the pastor. I'm not sure. Maybe I should. I'll figure it out.
During the service a young girl got up and left the sanctuary abruptly and returned again a few minutes later. I didn't see it happen. She walked up to me afterwards, looked me straight in the eye, and told me she was weeping when I said that I wish I could call my daddy. She had to leave to contain herself.
Damn. Now I'm crying again.
I didn't know what to say to her. I thanked her and she smiled and walked away. I leaned over to my friend and told him "That little girls love for her daddy is quite a beautiful sight". That little girl also made my night.
Folks, there are too many memories to share, those private moments of elation and grief. But please know this, I had never been to a funeral where I was present. I felt all the feelings that I had that night. I honored my dad's life by being a real man.
Let me finish with a disclaimer. My father would have liked me to tell you how I found healing.
If you haven't grasped how to be present, If you scan the world looking for the most wretched person (knowing that it is really you), If you are tired of being broken and alone, If you are worried that your dad wouldn't be proud of you, then call or write me. It can get better. It did for me.
Run to God. If they told you he would be mad...they lied. Trust me on this. He came to be afraid, lonely and tired, just like you. It can be ok. No really, it can.
These new smartphones have many exciting and unique features. That's obvious, right? The ability to click a little star on a contact, so they appear in your favorites list, is one of them. Just under that favorites list is the frequently contacted list. The frequently contacted list contains, in order, the people who I keep in touch with the most. It's this list that I struggled with yesterday.
As a side note, that last paragraph was boring. I don't think I could ever be a technical writer. The mundane nature of writing the basic functions of a smart phone made me a little sad. I'm not by nature a pedantic person, but that paragraph came dreadfully close.
So......this frequently called feature jumped up and bit me yesterday. I wanted someone to chat with, ya know, lonely and needing a friend. This is rarely a difficult thing to achieve, so I started calling.
I began my search at the top of my frequently called list. Let's see....that guys at work, this guy's busy with his wife, that guy didn't answer, I don't want to hear about this guy's problems......I was striking out. Keep scrolling down.
Right there, second from the bottom, my dad's number. It has survived the last couple of weeks clinging on to our last conversation. It troubled me to realize that it will soon drop off the list. Slowly, inexorably, his number is going to leave.
I thought about calling the number, keep boosting the numbers, artificially keeping him on the list. However, my stepmom still has the phone active on the chance that someone calls that needs to be informed of his passing. How would she react seeing my name pop up calling in? Would it trigger her? I don't want that.
The solution is to let his number slide of the list. Another goodbye. Another, among many, small things I will grieve about my dad's passing.
I have known when others have slid off the list. This modern barometer of whom I stay in touch with the most has bitten me before. I reluctantly accept that few relationships last a lifetime. Maybe some do, most simply can't. Heck, I've got the proof on my phone.
Blessing or curse, the frequently called feature tells a story. It's a story of those we contact often, and it can be a story of those we are losing contact with. The pinhead that designed it certainly never had this in mind. Don't get me wrong, I like the feature, it's super convienient. It's just an unusual way to be reminded of loss.
Dad passed away in the early hours on Jan 31st. That was a long day, surely a hard one. In the midst of his passing some powerful things have happened. I'm gonna incorporate them into my blog in the upcoming postings, but it's going to take a while.
So let's start with a strange one. I went in and spent a few moments alone with my dad's body. It wasn't a falling all over him, horrified that he was gone moment, rather, it was peaceful. He wasn't in pain anymore. I kept expecting him to blink, breathe, something..... but he wasn't there. His struggles were over.
I cried some. I wanted to say alot of things, but I noticed a baby monitor was still on. How could I be raw and real knowing that others could hear me?
What do you say to the man you struggled so hard with? How can you express grief when the shock is so fresh? When you begin seeing your dad as a loving man, how do you not have regrets?
I'm intensely aware that Dad loved me. My complete failure as his son never compromised his love for me. Sure we fought over meaningless stuff, but we cried together over the important. We joined together in a battle of wits against unarmed men. In other words, we complained about the world just like everyone else.
The past few days have brought new family members back into my life. It's a strange process, this getting to know people. Life is too short to be unreconciled with people you can care about. I didn't quite get that before.
My battle today is focused on his memorial service. I will be speaking. I will be preaching Dad's favorite passage. I hope I honor him well.
The speaking in front of people troubles me. I was a facade of a man for years. I was able to speak to a crowd in utmost confidence, whilst lying the whole time. I'm not that man anymore. But I feel the draw to be fake. There is that desire to push platitudes and clichés. There is a desire to be puffed up and not humble. I can be very prideful.
I want to be genuine. I want to share how my dad loved me thru the worst of times, about how we had tender moments, about how I wish he were here so we could argue some more, about how he was a diamond with sharp edges.
The memorial is in March. I'm starting to take notes. I feel like I have one opportunity to tell a large group of people about my dad and I want to do it well. Am I nervous? Yes.
So here we go. Someone once told me that humans are either in a crisis, emerging from a crisis, or will soon be entering a crisis. It's my job to care. I want that message to be shared at dads memorial. he would have liked that.
Spent yesterday visiting Dad. He had the hospice workers attending him. They were giving him a beard trim and making sure he was propped up in a comfortable way. He was in some pain, but the medicine worked fast and he quickly relaxed.
I often wondered what this stuff would be like. There were people who were important to me that had passed away, but never one that passed slowly, and certainly never one that was so close.
When I would think about these things, I would try and imagine how I should behave. Keep in mind as you read these next couple of paragraphs that I was an emotional cripple. I had been attempting to drown any real connection with anybody. For that, I was a moderate success.
Death was so terrifying and raw. Being that death was such an uncommon event, there was no one to emulate. If there was no one to emulate, how would I know how to behave in a way that made others think I cared? What platitudes or sayings would be appropriate?
Sure, I would care, but I wouldn't know how to function. My charade was going to be up if the heavy duty stuff came out. I would probably stay sober, only to drink more later, nursing the resentments of having my life disrupted.
That is almost exactly what living thru someone dying would have been like, had I been active in my addictions. I would have cranked up the organ and danced like a stupid monkey, hoping the observers were entertained and happy. I was a fraud and could offer no genuine solace.
That's why right now I am content. Deep connections have been forged during the last year, and specifically the last two months. Being there yesterday was important. It was important for my relationship with dad, and it was also important for my relationship with my step-mom.
Her and I talk alot now. We do a little dance in our conversations. We carefully try and figure out how each other are doing without causing the other to cry. It's an art form! We aren't very good at it. I'm smiling writing this. She has helped me thru this. Incredibly, I've helped her. I think we sympathetically cry. I mean, if she starts to cry I lose it. If I do then she does. As I was leaving I told her I was sorry that she was going thru this. We cried and held each other. This isn't easy on her.
Right now I feel needed, loved, cared for, content, sad........etc
I don't feel lonely. Folks, that is huge for me.
Dad is down to the wire. I know instinctively how to handle this situation. They promised me when I got sober that I would. I'm so grateful to be present and dependable thru such a painful time.
I'm gonna miss that old curmudgeon.
I'm visiting my dad right now. He is asleep. He is not doing well. Sure doesn't look good anymore. I'm kind of at a loss what to do or think. Started making plans for a memorial service. Damn, this is tough.
He has stopped any treatments. He is unresponsive. I'm not sure when the wave of grief is gonna strike. I'm not exactly excited to have that pain.
His Pastor is ok with me doing the memorial service. I'm glad. Dad was a preacher, I am as well. It will be a high honor to preach from my dad's favorite passages and sing his favorite hymns.
Right now I am so grateful for the compassion dad showed me. While many abandoned me in the wake of my addictions, he stood with me and loved me. We will likely never have those deep conversations again. I'm just glad we had them at all.
He is sitting there with his eyes open and his mouth agape, but he is asleep. I tried to say goodbye.
OUCH.
It's been a few weeks since my last update. So here is a partial list of everything that has happened:
Grandpa Chuck passed away
Sister and nephews visited
Dad in and out of hospital
New (to me) truck
First holidays being single....in over 19 years
Ok, the last one is a stretch. We have been separated for a while, but bear with me, it was different this holiday season. I was free!!!! I'm gonna spend some more time being free, perhaps quite a bit. Sorry ladies, you can totally mess me up. I enjoy being messy. Nuff said!
Grandpa Chuck passed away. This makes me sad. I was pondering the idea of writing him and starting a relationship with him, but I acted too slowly. Sorry Grandpa.
It's strange how I never knew either of my grandpa's. Oh sure they were dysfunctional, but not in any ways that I'm not familiar with. I mean, I'm a messed up dude, we should have gotten along swell!
Life is certainly fragile and temporary. I'm so grateful to be living and not just existing. I'm glad I can connect with more people. I need to connect more with people I have lost track of. Or, at the very least, be willing to reach out when the opportunity arises.
Dad and I continue to lock horns and give hugs. Now, when I finish visiting him, I've started telling him I love him and kissing him on the forehead. He is super uncomfortable and awkward when I do. He puts out his hand for a shake, I ignore the hand, it's fun. He isn't quite sure how to manage physical affection. I love watching him squirm. I love watching his eyes well up. I guess I've figured out how to cuddle with a porcupine.
Seeing my sister and nephews was great. I hadn't seen the nephews in something like 12 years. Far too long. So we hung out. We went off roading in the truck! That was super fun. I'm hoping to get to stay in contact with them more. I have their numbers. I suppose I better call. I should have called by now. Damn it! Feeling a little conviction just writing this. Bummer.
I got another Dodge diesel truck! Screw that last paragraph, this one's bound to be more fun! Oh man, that truck is sweet. I had one six years ago that I lost to alcoholism. It is a gift to myself to have another one. This truck is meaner and more powerful than the last one!
It feels great to have given myself a new toy. It does the offroad thing quite well. It's more truck than I am driver! The thing can tow 20000 lbs. That's a bunch of lbs! I know it's no econo car, but I am getting about 20 miles per gallon in the beast! I did get a Prius stuck in the air filter the other day. That caused a bit of stress! I♡my diesel!
So there it is, all caught up and ready to start blogging again. Hope your holidays were fun and the visits rewarding.
