Sunday, November 11, 2007

Two Dollars

Well another hunting season has come and gone with me once again tagging out. I suppose that I had to because I only had one week off for hunting season and that isn't too much time.
Anyway, I got both my deer in a very, very dramatic half hour of hunting. Probably the most fun that I had for a long while, but it was also a touch and go operation. Let me elaborate...
Well it all started out on a beautiful morning. It was about zero degrees and there was a slight Easterly wind blowing. I began the walk to my tree stand about half a kilometer away, not a far distance.
Then all of a sudden, as I was walking down the desolate road, I saw headlights heading towards me. Of course it was my Uncle Ray, a hunting genius. He told me he saw thirty deer in a field further down our road, so I hopped in the back of his truck and he dropped me off at the field entrance. I got out and started stalking down the deer that were 600 yards or more away.
Now I crept behind the hills and used the terrain to my advantage as I tried to get close to the deer. Now I literally had to get right up to the deer because I was using a World War One vintage gun, a 1916 Lee Enfield (maybe you read about her earlier...). Now it has no scope because I couldn't bring myself to damage that beautiful gun, it has to remain a classic. Anyway, as I was saying...
I was creeping up on the animals (now there weren't thirty, more like ten) and then I saw them, three bucks fighting. An odd sight to see at the least, but I was determined to shoot one. I got down on my belly and began crawling towards them, inch by agonizing inch.
All of the sudden the wind picked up and the oil on my gun must have stank something horrible because they began to run off in a hurry when I was still 200 yards off. My heart sank with every step away they took.
Then hope sprung anew, a fawn was still left behind. I clenched my teeth and began the stalk again, determination flowing through my veins.
Then the fawn jerked its head up and stared at me, tail raising slowly. I fumbled for my grunt call and sounded it a few times, hoping to settle the fawn down. Much to my luck it began walking slowly but surely towards me, a wonderful set-up.
As I stared at the deer through my open sights a black blob caught my eye to my left. A moose! Now I had seen the moose the day earlier and it had a calf with her, but this time there was no baby. Thoughts of me sitting between her and her calf raced through my mind and I began to glance behind me, making sure a smaller moose wasn't behind me. The moose veered off and once again it was just me and the fawn.
The fawn now was facing me straight on at a further distance then what I wanted. I waited for him to turn broadside so I could pull the trigger and snuff it out. Then I felt the warm sensation of snot running down my nose and over my lips but I knew that I couldn't make any movement to wipe. I clamped my mouth shut and took aim for the deer as I said I silent prayer. The deer turned broadside and I squeezed off the shot.
SMACK-BOOOOM!!! The deer leapt like a bucking bronco and took off towards the Murder Bush (long story made short: A family was murdered there and it is very thick with willows and spooky). I flung my glove across my nose and worked the bolt all in one fluid motion, took aim and fired again... and again, and again, and again. To my utter disbelieve all of these shots missed except the first shot. As my heart hit my guts the deer stopped, looked around and then layed down as if it was going to sleep. My jaw dropped because ten more yards more and it would have been in a incredibly thick bush with no snow to try to track it. I decided to play it safe and try to circle the deer so if it did get up I could scare it away from the bush and open up on it again.
I eventually got more or less behind it and walked towards it with the caution of a police approaching a downed criminal. I quickly realized the deer was down for the count and put down my gun to tag the thing.
As I was preparing to tag the animals ear I heard a sound from behind once again. I immediately thought it was momma moose out for me again and I spun around will crouching into a fetal position. Again my jaw dropped as I saw it was a second fawn staring at my knife in my hand and the blood stained clothes I was wearing. I slowly picked up my gun again and lifted the barrel in the direction of the fawn, finger gently resting on the trigger. The deer spooked and ran behind a tree, poking its head out once in a while to eye me up. I whipped out my grunt call in an "Ah-ha!" moment and blew its majestic tune in the direction of the deer. It walked out again, standing perfectly broadside and just begging for me to pull the trigger. Never one to disappoint, I did what he asked.
THACK-BOOOOM!!! The bullet struck true and the deer stumbled as it took off running down the hill. I could clearly see that it had wounded the deer because its front leg wasn't moving with the other three. I racked another round into the chamber and hastily fired off a second shot and the deer dropped to the ground, flopping like a fish out of water. I turned back to finish tagging my first fawn and then scampered over to the second one to tag him too. I then ran off to the road and flagged down my uncle, hopping around like a toad on drugs. We raced over to the deer and grabbed them, brought them home and gutted them out. All in all an eventful morning. And since both of them had little stubby antlers (legally short enough to throw an antlerless tag on it). So I guess you could say I got payed for my work (two bucks, get it?......bad pun I know, but work with me here!).

Thursday, October 25, 2007

A Death in the Family

Now that I am more or less over my mourning period I think I am strong enough to write about how my granny passed away two weeks ago. It came as quite a shock to me, and I would have liked to be with her when she died. However, I was at Bible school here in Nipawin doing homework on the weekend. I got the message from my RD (Resident Dean) Matt on the Saturday before last (look at the date and figure it out because I have no clue what day it would have been). It came as quite a shock to me, but I was lucky enough to have great friends here in Nipawin who supported me throughout this difficult time.
Now Granny Nesbitt was a great car to me. I had her for a while, I think I actually got her before I was in grade 11. She wasn't the greatest looking car in the world but she still had alot of spunk in her and was one tough nut to crack.
Me and my granny went through alot of big, important times together. We completed my drivers test together, and she faithfully got me to work and back everyday. We weren't without times of trouble however.
I remember when I was driving home one night and as I came over the second last hill on our road a shadowy figure bolted in front of me. I slammed on granny's brakes too late and heard a slight thud as the deer struck the drivers side light. Granny managed to escape with a slightly damaged hood and a popped out drivers light.
Granny also got shot once. I couldn't believe it when I saw a .22 calibre bullet hole in my passenger side door (front door that is). My dad managed to smooth it out and make it good again, but that gave me quite a scare.
We also hit the ditch once, um...twice actually. The first time was natures fault as I was driving home from my cousins and the road was very icy at the intersection. As I tried to turn and go home the ice worked against me and threw me into the ditch. Luckily a couple of very generous people pulled me out and we were on our way without any damage to Granny Nesbitt.
The other time I went into the ditch Granny wasn't as lucky. I don't know what possessed me to drive in reverse but I decided to back up a distance down our road so that I could get to a better spot to turn around (I forgot money I desperately needed). I lost control and my car flew into the ditch and bashed up Granny something horrible. I mean knocking over two good sized trees and escaping alive is quite an accomplishment for a car, so she's lucky in that sense. Her drivers door was dented and axle bent, plastic ripped apart and her muffler was kinda bashed. However, my dad fixed her up good and she came here with me.
The run in with the trees must have made her weak as I lent her out about two weeks ago to a fellow freshman that we will call Austin. Austin wanted to go and see his girlfriend in Saskatoon and I thought this was a cause in which Granny could help in so she went with Austin for a moderately long drive. On the way back Saturday Granny Nesbitt had a fatal "heart attack" and died on that dark and lonely stretch of road outside Saskatoon.
Now I plan a funeral when I get home in November for her, the last time I will see my beloved Granny. However, all is not lost with me. My grizzled truck Glenn is ready to get me back to Nipawin in November, and I think that he will get the job done great. However, Glenn is no Granny Nesbitt, and I think that he will ever replace her (although he'll be a better hunting companion).

Saturday, October 13, 2007

To my Love...

I am in a secret relationship. Yes, most of you may have known this or had some sort of premonition about it, actually alot of you probably did. It has been going on for over a year, and it started innocently enough. I first fell in love with her, well, pretty much randomly. Since that day I have had eyes for no other, my love is pure for her. I am led to believe that she feels the same about me as well because she is with me whenever I am home.
Now I suppose that you are getting curious as to the name of my mystery love. Well, I suppose I should tell you her name just to satisfy your curiousity. Her name is Olga.
Olga was born during the Great War, somewhere around 1917. She originally came from Great Britain before emigrating to Canada sometime. Yes, she may be old and past her prime, but she still has life in her left. Now before you think I'm some sort of freaky pedophile, Olga is a gun. Yup, Olga is my Lee Enfield.
I bought Olga last winter from a friend of my dads last year. Now this wasn't against Olga's consent and it definately wasn't anything like a mail order bride. No, this was more like a Native American ritual where the husband would give his wife's parents some gifts for letting him marry their daughter. That is more or less what I did.
We went on our first outing in mid-November during hunting season. Even though we didn't get anything it was an exciting experience for both of us, just us outside in the wild. Since then we have been through alot together, everything from bear hunting to gopher hunting. This is definately love. But now Olga wants her brother, Fritz (who is a Lee Enfield Jungle Carbine) to come live with us. Women.......

Saturday, September 22, 2007


Alright, I have to make an apology, which is usually something I try to avoid. I am afraid that I won't have time to work in my blog, so don't expect anything new to show up once a week. Maybe over holidays and weekends I'll do a few things, but even then it could take 2 weekends to get a story up.

Sunday, September 16, 2007

D-Day plus 2

Well, it is my first full day in Nipawin and it has been fairly good. I slept well last night, but when I woke up there was about 100 flies buzzing around in my room. Oh well, they'll all die pretty soon, hahaha.
My roomates name is Matt for Port St. John, British Columbia. This is his first year at Nipawin, so we both are winging it right now.
As I type this out I am in "laptop central", which is the lounge underneath the dining hall. I see 6 more laptops besides mine in this area, which is alot more than I thought there would ever be. I guess people are more modern than I figured.
When I got here yesterday I quickly unpacked my car with Rachel's help. Ya, Rachel came with a girl named Donna and her family. Surprised me, I would have hugged her too but she called me names. We ate, played games and got introduced to the staff and students here.
I plan to take pictures of some of the people that I met so far but haven't got around to it so far. Once I get to the dorm again I'll see if people will allow me to snap a photo or two cuz I hate to resort to threats and stuff.
There is only one thing wrong with life so far at Nipawin: I might have got pinkeye from a another student. Not that my eye is pink and puffy yet, but it is ichy and I was hanging around with him yesterday. If I do get it it will be simple enough to treat, and no I won't hate Andrew if it did transfer to me. Oh by the way Andrew is the kid that has pinkeye, he is a cool guy. That and he's a child of one of the teachers so I better not get him mad or his dad might fail me.
Well, that's about all with me so far, I mean I have a life and can't spend it in front of a computer all day, so I guess I'll leave for right now.

Monday, September 10, 2007

5 days

Well, it is only 5 days until I leave to go to Nipawin Bible College. I have started to go through some school supplies and other essentials, mainly things like bathroom stuff (toothbrush, Q-Tips, books).
I'm sure the next 8 months at NBC will challenge me alot, but all for the better. And it's not like I don't know anyone, I know Brad pretty well and I sorta know a few of the other guys. Actually one of them is friends with my brother, so it's not like I'm going to a strange place. I only know one girl there, and by knowing her I mean barely know her. But this slight knowledge is helpful, it will make me more comfortable.
What will I do in my spare time? Probably work on a homework, play some sports and lay around listening to music. Of course this will all change because life is never what you expect it to be.
However, I do have plans for the year that I will carry out. For one, I will get my truck fixed up, sell my car, take the truck into the bush and tag out in deer season.
I really have nothing much to write about, nothing interesting happening right now.

Friday, August 24, 2007

Forgetting to Remember

What do you know about Canada's military history? If you are older, you probably know alot more than today generation. This really has been an angering topic to me, as I personally believe that we should take pride in our country and what we have been able to achieve. I was disappointed in school, we didn't learn anything about our wonderful nation's contribution during both World Wars. We sacrificed our sons and daughters for freedom, and what do we do to honour them? We put on a small television special and stand in silence for a minute. However, we haven't taught kids what Canada really accomplished, and how much it cost us.
You want to know a depressing fact? Most of Canada's population don't know why Vimy Ridge is such an important part of our history. Actually, most people have no clue what or where Vimy Ridge even is.
Vimy Ridge was Canada's defining moment in military history. During World War 1 Canada was still a British Colony, and when Britain committed to war, we had no choice but to go to war as well. The British thought Canadian soldiers were inferior to them, as we had no historical records of being a military powerhouse like Britain was. Our soldiers often shrugged off direct orders from ranking officers as they weren't used to being told what to do. This didn't, however, change the way we fought.
Canada's sons first proved themselves to be more than capable soldiers at Ypres. Germans unleashed the first poisonous gas attack in the history of warfare at Ypres, the attack aimed directly for Canadian and French troops. When the French saw the green cloud of chlorine gas heading their way, they abandoned their positions and fled, leaving a huge gap of 4 miles in the line. Canadian troops, despite the choking gas that literally made people cough up their lungs, held not only their own line but also took over the French positions that had been abandoned. Not only did we survive the gas attack, we held until re-enforcements came days later. Out of 10 000 Canadians at Ypres, 6 000 were casualties.
At the Battle of Somme 24 000 Canadians are listed as casualties. The Newfoundland Regiment lost 710 out of 801 men, or almost 89% of the company strength. In other words, out of my class of 22 people, only about 2 people would have survived. And the depressing thing is that this was one mere battle of the war.
However, Vimy Ridge was the crowning jewel of the war for Canada. For the first and last time in our History, all 4 Canadian divisions fought together. We also had a Canadian commander by the name of Arthur Currie, the first time a Canadian had been able to command his divisions without a British superior officer.
Vimy had been assaulted before by the French, and it ended with the French losing 150 000 men. In comparison, Canada had a mere 10 000 casualties through the campaign. One reason that the Canadians were so successful was because they used a precision timed creeping barrage. 1 000 artillery pieces were used in the assault, sending shrieking rounds just in front of the Canadian soldiers to shield them from German view. They also split into small groups so they wouldn't be mowed down by German machine gun fire. The months of preparation paid off much better than what commanders guessed, with the Canadians took Vimy Ridge very quickly. In fact some Germans were still in PJ's when the Canadians found them.
But World War 1 wasn't the only war where Canadians proved themselves. In the Second World War Canadians made huge sacrifices for freedom. They braved harsh seas and German U-boats to send goods to Britain across the Atlantic Ocean.
Canadians also made a supreme sacrifice on the Beaches of Dieppe. The attack was poorly executed but the Canadians never stopped pushing forward. The attempt failed miserably but military planners say that the lessons learned from Dieppe helped save thousands of lives on D-Day.
But other countries can claim similar achievements, right? True, the Americans fought tooth and nail to take Iwo Jima, the Russians clung on to Stalingrad and eventually pushed the Germans out of Russia. But Canada had a reputation that totally contradicts their reputation as "peacekeepers" today. We were known as "shock troops", a feared group of soldiers that made enemy soldiers shudder. Opposing forces thought that Canadians were a group of wild men who knew no fear, as was never more evident than at Vimy.
The kilt-clad Nova Scotia Highlanders had an officer walk up Vimy casually twirling his cane admist a ferocious barrage. Lt-Col. Charles Cecil Ingersoll Merritt took off his helmet and walked across a bridge with bullets bouncing by his feet, spurring his men onward. The 1st CMRs raided German trenches on Christmas Day, destroying enemy positions and pushing the Germans back, as they weren't expecting anything so horrid on a sacrid day. And yes, the 1st CMRs did steal some presents from the Germans.
Even today enemy soldiers know of the gritty Canadian attitude and determination. A Canadian sniper in Afganistan killed an enemy soldier at a range of 2 500 yards. One heck of a shot indeed.
Yes, history may be boring at times, but it is important that we listen and learn of the sacrifices that were made to give Canadians the life that they live today. Men and women died for us so that we may live in peace and comfort, and to me they should all be considered hero's.

Thursday, August 23, 2007

Mohawk Pics

Well, this is my latest haircut. A little extreme for some, but I really don't think that you should judge someone by their hair style. Well, I suppose you shouldn't judge anyone by the way look period. I won't be like this for long, I'll be bald for my Bible School debut. But for the time being, I will enjoy this new hairstyle.

Tuesday, August 21, 2007

Heading in a New Direction

A recent debate has once again surfaced in my household: hair. This time, however, it is not only my hairstyle. Rachel and Derek are both planning a major difference in the way they will look. They are both planning for dreads in the spring.
Wow, quite a shock, isn't it? Ya, took me by surprise too. Derek has had his shag for.....well, a very long time. Rachel usually has the same style of hair (from my view point anyway). And all of a sudden they both decide to go and get dreads? Cool, but kinda random.
However, they are both planning to get them done professionally, which is probably for the better. But there are two problems that I find with this.
The first problem is the time it takes. I heard, and mind you this is only what I heard, that this process takes 6-8 hours. A waste of a day if you ask me. But I suppose if you compare it to the 3 months minimum it takes to do it naturally, it is well worth it. At least they wouldn't have to put up with the greasy, string-like hair for ages.
The other problem is the money. I have absolutely no clue how much it takes to get this process done, but I imagine that it isn't cheap.
This being said, I think that they would both look pretty sweet when it would be all said and done. But I prefer to go the other way completely: bald.
I loved the short time that I was bald. I didn't have the hassle of combing my hair, washing it, drying it or it getting in my eyes and ears. It was colder for sure, but sacrifices must be made. It also took a while to shave it everyday, but I worked it into my schedule easily enough. Now I think that I will go bald again, hopefully by the end of this week. This decision is to the chagrin of my parents and siblings, along with most of my friends. But I'm heading to a place where no one knows me, and they will not know the real me. For all they know I would have been bald all my life.

Tuesday, August 7, 2007

Musical Poison?

OK, so there has been a very heated debate about Christian music. It seems to people that there should only be a certain type of music that should be accepted or a certain type of music that is "right". I have a problem with this, and I am about to express it.
It seems to me that alot of people (and I do mean alot) are musically prejudice. The don't look at all the factors and don't give alot of music a chance.
For instance, take the type of music known as "screamo". This is actually what was the deciding factor for me in writing this blog. People readily shun it, and I really mean that. They jeer and call down those who listen to it, sorta like they think that they are inferior. Christians are just as bad for this as anyone else, if not worse. I have noticed that alot of Christians are very close minded, very conservative. When you say "Christian music" most people will think country gospel or some light rock group. Ask them to mention Christian groups and names like Jeremy Camp, Jars of Clay, or Johnny Cash. Mainly country or gospel groups, right? Yes, you might have some heavier rock groups come up, something along the lines of Skillet or Kutless. But what if I was to say that I believe screamo bands like Underoath, As I Lay Dying and Maylene and the Son's of Disaster should be mentioned with all these gospel singers? If this doesn't shock you, listen to a short clip of a your favorite gospel song and then listen to a clip from one of the previously mentioned bands. This may raise eyebrows.
Now I know some people that would form a mob and threaten to lynch me just for mentioning screamo and gospel in the same sentence. These same people would argue that even Christian's singing this "devil's music" are horrible. Well, let me argue my point for a minute.
I believe this music situation could be put in a simpler term, as I have rambled on randomly. Now let me ask you a simpler question: Do you believe that the Bible should only be printed in a select few languages, or should it be printed in as many languages as it can be? It should be printed in many languages so that the Word can be spread, right?
Same situation in music if you can believe it. People have different tastes in music, just like different people speak different languages.
So, you get what I'm talking about? Christian screamo is not only acceptable, it is needed. So quit complaining about this music, it is extremely useful.

Thursday, August 2, 2007


OK, so I have a new blog entry under the month of June for anyone wanting to read it. It is entitled "Girls". Don't ask how it got under the month of June, as I have absolutely no clue.

Of Rough Hands And Rotten Luck

Ah summer, what a beautiful time. Beaches and sunburns, long days and short nights. A time to hang out with friends and family, to just have a blast while you are out of school. This summer has been anything but this for me.
No, I admit that I hate the beach and I don't burn too easily. I will be hanging around my family in a mere week, at the annual camp out. But as for the "having a blast", it is anything but.
This summer, short as it has been so far, has beaten me time and time again. I don't want to complain, but I will because it makes for a good blog.
In the month or so that I have been out of school, I have suffered illness, injury, grief and breakdowns. Here are some examples:
Well, for starters, my car broke down. Well, it still ran but a belt fell off my air conditioning, and then this belt tore off my power steering belt. Good thing it happened right around home, but it still rendered my car useless for a few days.
Second, my grandma is in the hospital with an infection. While she was there she probably had a slight heart attack, and this has probably delayed her recovery. She is completely worn out but is now walking around her room, so it is improving.
Then I got sick a couple of days, so I have had to miss some work. Not too major, but not fun at all. I also have had a few rocky days with friends, which kinda threw my emotions into high gear. However, I dealt with this and trudged on.
But now comes the injuries. I was playing some baseball in the park a couple of weeks ago and I was throwing a baseball back the the ball diamond when I got a sharp pain in my elbow. I let it throb for a few days before I went to the doctor. He examined me and told me that I have a tear in my major tendon. He suggested taking 2 weeks off work, but that won't happen.
Then just yesterday we were putting some rim-joist's into my bosses truck when one of them hit me in the chest. Must have been that, otherwise a box of nails. Anyway, it didn't really bother me until about 5 minutes later, when I noticed I couldn't get a full breath. When I got home I told my mom, and she phoned the hospital. They told me to come in, and so I did. It took about an hour and a half for me to start to breath normally again. The doctor said it is probably bruised ribs, maybe a bruised lung.
I kinda feel stupid writing this, like I expect pity from you people. However, I don't want any. I did this to myself, or some of it to myself. And no matter what I tell you, I will survive this. It actually isn't too bad, and it could definitely be way worse.

Saturday, July 28, 2007

Tragic Turn

It was bound to happen: my car died on me. I know, I'm hurt deeply by it too. Granny's belts slipped up and she couldn't turn, nearly took me with her. As I write this my father is operating on her, trying to get her in running condition so I can get to work. It'll be close.
Me and Granny have shared many memories together, from taking relaxing drives in the country to hunting gophers through rough fields. She's even been shot (no lies). One tough car.
Now I don't know if she's giving up because of the fact that I got a small but burly truck to eventually replace her, or if she just couldn't take the heat. Either way I would dread to see her go this way.
It happened yesterday when I was driving home from Morin Lake. I smelt something burning, so I turned off my air contitioning, and it went away. I turned it on once I hit highway again, merely 5 miles form our house. As I slowed to turn into our approach, I realized that it was extremely hard to turn. I literally threw all my muscle into getting it turned halfway, barrely making the corner. Once I got home I parked her near the shop, and leapt out of the drivers seat, desperate to save my Granny's life. Even with my limited knowledge I knew something was wrong when I saw belts hanging from her underbelly.
Well, there is my story, and I hope she gets better fast. I hope you all feel the same way.

Saturday, July 21, 2007

Promise Kept

Well, I finally kept my word: I bought a truck. If you don't already know, it's a 1985 Nissan King Cab, bought from a good friend of our family. In fact, Glenn Gerbrandt used to be the pastor in Mont Nebo, so that's how we know him so well. But anyway, back to the truck.
The truck itself isn't the most pretty thing in the world. It's kinda orange-ish (is that a word?), with little stripes of black down the side. It had more than enough rust, and the passenger side door is actually rusted through! But you can't see through the door because the interior is still intact. It actually has room for 4 people, but that would be very crowded.
Now I imagine some of you are excited with me and want to take a spin in the vehicle. I can't allow you do this however. Now it's not that I hate you or don't want you people contaminating my truck, I have a much better excuse: It shouldn't be driven in its condition.
Yes it runs, but not well. It has major problems that need to be dealt with. It needs a new clutch, muffler, parking brake, speedometer, work on the rear end of some sort, and more than likely another hundred problems. Let me put it this way, if this truck was a human, it would be in sore shape. I picture it as a car crash victim with a busted arm, broken legs, and alot of damaged organs on the inside. Pretty sad shape I'm afraid, but by no means should I give up on the truck. That would be like the doctor taking a look at a patient, saying it's hopeless to do anything and then the doctor walks away. That won't happen with me.
Now, I am again faced with a pretty big dilemma. Just like the Saskatchewan health care system, our shop is backed up. With only one "doctor" on duty, there is alot of work for him. Fist of all the Jetta, which is long term work. It's like open-heart surgery or something. Then their was emergency "patients", like Uncle Rays truck and the work vehicle. My truck will have to wait for at least 3 weeks to even get looked at, which shoots down my plans.
What are my plans you ask? I was planning to fix up my truck before I have to go to Nipawin, and then have a 4 wheel drive vehicle to power myself up their. It's pretty bad in the winter their, alot of snow. Anyway, what would I do with Granny Nesbitt? Well, Granny Nesbitt (my car) would be traded to my sister Klara for her little Tempo and some cash. I would then sell the Tempo, and pocket the money, I want to at least break even, that is my goal.
So I hope that everything goes according to plan, although I hardly think it will. I believe that I will have to have my car for a while in Nipawin, which is sorta unfortunate. However, my truck will be ready for deer season, and that is where it will come in handy most.

Tuesday, July 10, 2007

A Long Haul

Another interesting day in my life. As I was outside cutting grass by myself, just being the good kind of son that I am, I got a phone-call. Of course, I can't hear the phone because I am outside and I am sitting on top of a huge lawnmower. Well, she must have called our neighbours next because as I was ripping around the spinning swing thing at the back of the house, Linda came into view around the corner. I nearly died of fright as I was home alone and I wasn't expecting anyone to be around.
Anyways, she came over to tell me that my mom was trying to get ahold of me. "Ohhh, big deal" I said, "she can wait until I'm done". However, Linda then tells me that mom broke down in the city, and she needed me to come and get her. I went and parked the lawnmower, went inside to pretty myself up a bit, then I hopped in my car and headed off into Prince Albert.
After I got in, I had to try to find my auntie and uncle's house. "No problem" I thought, just turn down that one street that mom told me go down. About 30 minutes later I found the house, which was supposedly there when I drove by it the first time. Quite frankly I don't believe it, but that's the story they are sticking to.
So I walk into the house, and was confronted immediately by mom. She told me to give me my keys and go home with the tow truck driver. "Great" I thought to myself, "I drive 1 hour to the city, spend 30 minutes trying to find an invisible house and then go home with some dude I don't know". Good grief, eh?
However, I hopped into the tow truck and spent another hour in a noisy truck with a silent driver. When we got home he put the car right into the shop, must be a veteran. Of course, there is no rest for the weary, I got straight back on the lawnmower and cut for another hour or so.
As of right now we still have no clue what in the world is wrong that car, stupid Jetta's, foreign rice burners they are. Get a good North American vehicle, it will last a lot longer.

Sunday, July 1, 2007

When I grow up......

Well, another bear season has come and gone without me even seeing one. A huge disapointment, but I suppose I could have went out more then I did. Kinda lazy I am. But it gets expensive after a while, driving there and back. Anyways, there is the end of August and beginning of September yet.
But as I sulk about my unfortunate luck I remember the good old hunting days. Yes, even before I could hunt. I would wait for the beginning of hunting season like I would wait for Christmas, not being able to sleep and all. My dad wouldn't hunt alone of course, he had his usual bunch of guys that came up. Uncle Phil, Uncle Ray, Uncle Glenn (who isn't my uncle at all, but he was the local pastor and he came over about 6 days a week, so he was considered an uncle), Mike, Paul, and sometimes people like Will and Ken would come up.
Anyway, they would all come the night before and plan for their escapades in the morning. I hovered around like a moth to light, mainly keeping my mouth shut and learning the abundant knowledge that oozed from their mouths. I watched them point out random spots on the maps they had spread across the table, discussing times and places of interests. They would then talk about "pushing bush", a term that I loved to use when talking to my minor hunting pals at school. Then, after all plans would be made, the visitors would head downstairs and sleep in the woodroom.
After I would get home from school on opening day, I would throw my backpack inside and run off to the shop, desperately hoping a monster buck would be lying in the shop. Most of the time there would be three or four, but usually no monsters. After the end of the day, they would come in and eat supper before those who lived farther away, such as Uncle Phil and his friends, would go home. I sat and listened intently to the stories of the day, like the deer that ran past the posters during a push.
Among some of the more interesting stories I heard was the one about Uncle Phil and the buck that almost was. Uncle Phil was hunting and he saw a buck and let off a few rounds, then followed a blood trail for goodness knows how long. He eventually found the buck, and he then began to gut it out. When he was done, he was just starting to notch his tags when two other hunters pulled up. There they claimed the deer as their own, telling Uncle Phil that they had shot it but had forgotten their tags. They then had to go home and grab their tags, so Uncle Phil, being to kind person he is (he was also outnumbered by armed men).
Meanwhile, all the hunters that had returned home were gathered around the shop, when we (as in the hunters and myself) heard several quick gunshots. These were followed by more, until it started to sound like a war. I think we counted 13 or 14 gunshots within the minute. My Uncle Ray was cracking jokes about how it was probably Uncle Phil, as he is infamous for his ability to get running deer to go faster. I think that that image has dimished over the years, as I remember him nailing two running deer with three shots one year. Dropped them about 100 yards from each other.
Anyway, we all waited until a weary and depressed Uncle Phil walked into view. Immediately the group of hunters rattled off dry remarks, asking him if he had to come back for more shells and what not. To everones surprise he to them he hadn't fired off one of those shots, and then related the heartbreaking story to us.
Of course there are many, many more stories for other days, but this shall do for right now.

Thursday, June 28, 2007

A Playground Terror

I don't know why I am writing in my blog today. Yes, I haven't written anything for two weeks, but why today? I have Death By Chocolate (a beautifully wonderful type of food) right behind me, and I have alot of company surrounding me. I must be mad writing this now, but here it goes.
I was a bad little kid. Oh sure, all you think me as the perfect child, kind, gentle, patient, loving and humble. However, I was a bad kid for most of elementary school.
I remember when I "patrolled" the playground with two friends, keeping the peace. Actually, that is what I told the teachers, I was actually looking for a scrap to get into. I go into a few skirmishes, I actually threw two kids together while I was covering rear for my group. Two blood-thirsty kindergartners attacked, and my weasel like friends ran. I stood my ground, desperately wanting an excuse for a fight. The kids came and I threw them together, and they fell to the ground hurt.
I also got into a minor scrap in a school-wide brawl. I got close-lined and that was the end of me. So this really doesn't matter, as I didn't get a chance to fight.
I once also was sitting in my class while I was in grade 2 when 3 kids ran in. One of them ran past me, so I stuck out my leg and he went flying over top of two desks. Yes, I'm afraid he was hurt. However, I went up to the other kid, who is now my best friend Joe Ross. I told him to get off of my other friend Michael or I'd give him a knuckle sandwich. He ran away, Joey that is, and since then he has stuck close. Maybe he figures my finely chiseled body will protect him from harm. That would explain the reason he joined my at Esso.
I also knocked out someone in tether ball. Now this wasn't my fault, OK so it was but still. The reason why it is a highlight is because I was in grade 3 or 4 while the guy I knocked out was in grade 11. No lies even. This is how it went down:
There we were, two lonely desperado's on the playground. We stood facing each other, the ball hanging limply in my clenched hand. He had a slight grin on his face, like he actually expected to beat me. Well, the game began, and he was just toying with me while I leapt and bounded. My good cousin Kealie was watching as I got ready to smoke the ball. I remember my torso springing back into its normal position, my fist hitting the ball squarely. I remember watching the ball shoot forward, and the guy must have blinked because the next thing I know is the dude was falling to the ground, his glasses flying in a perfect arc above his head. I stood there, stunned that I actually knocked this guy out. After about 30 seconds he started to get up and mutter something about killing "that kid". Needless to say, I ran as fast as I could.
So these are but a few of my violent childhood experiences, and it actually feels good to get it off my chest. Anywho, I shall leave you know as you must be either silently shaking with mirth or telling someone in the house to quit reading my blog because I am not making sense anymore.

Thursday, June 14, 2007

Bravery or Craziness?

Let me tell you a short little tale in which I am viewed as a villain. However, I should be considered a blinkin' hero, I could have died if the circumstances would have been different. Let me begin the yarn.....
It was an innocent enough night. I was at the very computer from which this story is being written from, playing some sorta video game. Mom was on the couch nearest to the TV, her back to the three windows that grace the outer wall. The babies were asleep, and papa was in the shower. Derek was sleeping and the girls weren't home, I think they were gone somewheres on a trip. And what was I doing up so late? I was merely playing a game, I mean those things are addicting. Anyways, I was up and that is all that matters.
As I was gazing in a sorta comatose at the screen of the computer when I saw a flicker of light reflect off the screen. Since I was in a trance it didn't dawn on me that it was lights from outside, not inside. I slowly turned around and calmly asked my mom if she had been expecting anyone. Mom promptly said no, and then a little warning flare shot up in my mind. I ran to the kitchen window and saw headlights shining on the shop doors. I told mom and she thought that maybe people were robbing us of all our tools and she told me to do something. I didn't know what to do, I'm a scrawny little nerd! But I ran downstairs and went straight to the gun safe thingy, and grabbed the Ruger. I then went over my mental plan in my head as I vaulted up the stairs.
OK, I am going to unlock the door and slip outside unknown to the thief's. I will then creep up behind the woodpile and take a gander at whats going down. If I see them stealing tools, I will take a warning shot in front of the vehicle and bellow at them to drop everything. If one of them makes a move to run I'll....
I didn't get any farther, because the moment of truth came. I unbolted the door and, with my right hand squeezing the gun, I stepped out. Then I saw two people walking towards the house! I fumbled with the gun, and backstepped into the doorway. The two people looked up and froze at the foot of our porch, and we locked eyes in a silent showdown.
Now it didn't dawn on me that these two fiends were actually my sisters. I was going to capture the robber, that's all there was to it. Only when Rachel managed a nervous "Hi" that I snapped into reality once again. I looked at them, then at my gun, back at them, and then grinned sheepishly. I don't think I'll ever live that one down, me nearly shooting my sisters and all. And on top of this, mom claims she didn't tell me to go outside! The nerve, just cuz she doesn't want to get blamed with me. Shameful of her, making me take the fall for her mistake. And now I just realized that she'll be reading this and shaking with anger, not mirth. So i better leave before I say something I regret.
However, I stick to my story of untold courage and valour, as I could have been hurt or killed if they were robber. Depends on how much they want that power saw.............

Wednesday, June 13, 2007

So soon...

Well, one week left of classes, and then four days of exams, and then I'm done high school forever. Well, done if I pass all my classes.
What will I be doing in the summer? Well, so far the plans are to work two jobs for July and August. I am staying at the Esso for as far as I know, and then I am going back to work with a local carpenter for a second go round. I worked part time with him last year, and although it was certainly something I don't want to do for the rest of my life, it could be alot worse. It wasn't really bad, just hard work, which is good for me. Anyway, I believe I will get one day off a week for summer, maybe slightly more in August since the carpenter is a farmer as well. I won't be bored anyway.
What about after this? Well, I suppose I'll take two or three weeks off before I go to Nipawin Bible College, just so I can get everything organized.
I also plan to visit a few people before I leave, like my sister in her camp and maybe my cousin and friend at their respected camps.
Then it is off to NBC, an exciting yet scary thing. I know I'll make new friends and develop a better relationship with God, which is the purpose of going. I won't ever be bored as it is a college and it's alot of hard work. I also plan to play sports there, so I can keep my physique as wonderful as it is now. Maybe I'll actually become tougher, if that's possible.
And Bible School isn't a boring place like most people view it. I have heard stories about NBC that twould make a streaker shake his head. Or maybe he'd head straight for the school, who really knows?
But I shall continue to work towards staying on the straight and narrow path that leads to safety, and I wouldn't have it any other way.

Monday, June 11, 2007


I understand that there has been tons of stories and articles written about girls and why they behave the way they do. Now I am about to give a view of girls from my own perspective, which doesn't mean it is right. Bear with me as I venture into the untamed world of the female.
Women, and I think that all of us can agree about this, are confusing. They have a mystic sense about them that males do not have, a mysterious veil surrounding their being. For a normal boy like me, this is both fascinating and extremely confusing. It is almost like girls have a power that draws a guy in, like a moth to a bright light.
One of the first things I have noticed about girls is that most of them will have a small core of close friends that are pretty much sisters to them. Sure, guys have close friends too, but we don't sleep in the same bed with each other or do each others nails. We fight and play sports together, both of which most girls wouldn't do with their friends. Oh I know that there are alot of girls that would fight with their friends and play sports with each other, but it just isn't as common. And on the other side, I don't know any guys who do each others nails or stuff like that.
This nucleus of friends a girl has are usually extremely flexible and supportive. If one of the members of the group has just got a new boyfriend, they all huddle together and giggle alot. If the boyfriend has just left one of the girls, they get into a huddle and cry or mean-mouth the unfortunate soul. This makes the girl feel better and get over the horrific experience much faster. In comparison, a guy might phone up his best friend, talk all tough and tell the friend it was for the best, and then break down and sulk for a long time.
I have also observed that girls tend to toy with a guys feelings. Not that this has necessarily happened to me, but I have seen it done. This can be a good thing and a bad thing, depending on how far they take it. A guy isn't all unfeeling, he just can hide his emotions alot easier than most girls. Don't get me wrong, I know guys who are very emotional and girls who seem to be emotionless. However, on average a guy is less public with his feelings.
Now back to the toying business. If a girl is interested in a guy, she has two main approaches. She could go straight up to the guy and ask him out, which is quite rare. The other way is she sits back and leaves hints that she likes the guy, either by flirting gently or having her friends "accidentally" say something about her crush. The guy, if he is interested, may then make his move.
However, if a girl toys with a guys emotions and doesn't tell him that she likes him, or denies it, she may hurt the guys feelings. This would take alot of toying though, so it is quite unlikely.
Girls supposedly also expect to have guy make the move. Now then, this can bring up an interesting dilemma. Some guys are shy or something, and they don't feel right making the first move. Stupidity, right? I guess so, because if he really wanted the girl he would pursue the opportunity.
Women want to be pursued, to be fought over. Guys shouldn't make the mistake of expecting to steal a girls heart without working for it. A girl wants to know that she is gorgeous, that she is worth fighting for. I didn't know what this meant until a week ago, and I wish I would have know that years ago. Would have been nice, but from this point and time I will try harder to be the man I am required to be.
I think that I am also right in saying that most girls don't want guys that are passive or unadventurous. Women want a dangerous guy, a warrior, a heroic figure. This doesn't mean that a skinny, weak guy like me has no chance. We just have to rely on our character, something that is much more important than looks. But do you know why a woman wants a heroic figure? It's because since they have been small lasses they have dreamed of a Prince Charming carrying her away into the sunset.
For the guys reading this blog, telling a girl they are lovely or stunning does two things. One, it makes you feel good about yourself, and about the friendship/relationship you share with them. It also will make the lady feel really good. You'll notice a change instantly, stress will disappear and a shudder of joy will run throughout there body. A light will come to their eye, a glow in their skin. This is what will make you (the guy) feel good about yourself.
In closing, let me say something that I agree with from a great book I am currently reading. The book is called "Wild At Heart" for those curious, and I highly recommend it. But in the book it mentions how when God started to create all living things, he started off with creatures of the sea and then animals of the air. He then went to land animals, making many different kinds. The he made Man to rule over the animals. Adam was his greatest achievement up to date. Then he topped it all off with a Woman. Eve was God's last great creation, the most beautiful of all creations. Did you see a pattern at all? He kept making more beautiful, wondrous creations every time. From fish to eagles to lions to man to woman. So guys, women are the peak of creation. Start treating them like it. And women, never accept anything less.

Sunday, June 10, 2007

Another hunting incident

OK, the thing I have dreaded most (not most, but it sounds good, don't it?) just happened about half a week ago. I got chased by a bear, and it was no puny one by the sounds of things. To tell this story, I must tell you the circumstances surrounding the event.
I don't hunt bear at home because there isn't any bear where I live. OK, so there might be some, but I never see them. So about half a year ago a guy I know told me he had bear on his land. Big ones. Lots of bear. This was enough to send my mind into overdrive and I readily agreed to hunting on his land.
This spring I put out a bait barrel, which is no more than a metal oil drum with a removable top to put the bait in. The bait can be anything, like oats, grease from deep fryers, rotting animals or anything else a bear would eat. So I chained the barrel around a tree and filled it up, then I waited a few days for the bear to get used to it there.
Sure enough, I went back 3 days later and the bear had knocked it over and eaten some oats. I got all excited and scaled my tree stand, but nothing came in except hordes of mosquitoes.
This trend continued for the last month or so, with no bear coming in when I was sitting in a little wooden chair strapped to a tree. Then it happened; the bear came in.
OK, so now you know the background behind the attempted attack, I can tell you about the assault on my manlihood.
I was walking down the pathway, which is no more than a 6 foot wide clearing cut into a huge bush. As I was walking into a clearing, I heard a growl and the sound of trees being bowled over in my direction.
Now when you are being rushed by a beast, you are only concerned about living. I jumped about 3 feet in the air and fumbled around with my gun, whipping it in the direction of the noise. I was halfway in between falling to my knees and standing, so it was hard standing. I then had the sense to run into the clearing, trying to scream but not able to.
As soon as I got into the clearing, I whirled around in every direction and tried to see the bear. After about 30 seconds I called out a challenge, but still nothing. I then proceeded to my stand, and not far from it was a big pile of crap. Now most animals don't poop like this, so I'm sure its a bear.
Anywho, my barrel was cleaned completely out and there was more poo by the barrel, so now I'm scared to even go back there. However, I plan to go out tomorrow, even if it means getting eaten by mosquitoes and a monster bear. But this is all for the greater good, so onward the bluffs!

Saturday, June 9, 2007

Grad Photos

My cousin and me before grad

Me and my escort during the Grand March, after the "argument"


Alright, bawl me out again, I'm used to it. Yes I know it's been a long time since I last wrote in my blog, and I know that you have been waiting anxiously to read a new entry. And since one major event in my life happened......8 days ago, I might as well tell you about it.
OK, so graduation is suppose to be a fairly serious event, I mean, you only graduate once in your life, right? However, I hate formal events. I mean, I feel so stuffed and fake, I just hate it. So as you probably read in my last blog entry, I decided to wear a duct tape tux, thanks to the creativity of my sister Rachel. Red and blue with Habs logo's gracing the suit, it made a huge impact in the ceremonies, or so I am told.
The first part of grad is when we are in our toga's or gowns or whatever you want to call them Now I was originally going to go up their with no pants to keep myself cool, but I would have my undergarments on for sure. Anywho, I was talked into putting on jeans for this parts of the ceremonies, and it was fair enough. The fan behind me was going at a good clip, but the gowns were thick and I couldn't feel the breeze anyway. Anyway, the tassel on my hat kept going venturing into my mouth, and I'd gag and spit out the strings constantly. I was called up eventually to get my diploma, and then they also decided to throw in the "Best All Around Award", which surprised me incredibly. I mean, I got a weird look on my face, or so I am told. After the boring part of the ceremonies were nearly over, I began to wonder how in the world I was going to get up the stairs in my pants, and get the pants on period. Just before we got off stage we were suppose to throw our hats in the air, as is custom around here (and most other places). Ya, well, to be different I threw mine straight ahead, as my family sat 4 rows in front of me. The hat didn't make it and hit someone in the face. I quickly ducked my head and got off the stage as fast as possible (but with my luck, I was the last one off).
We quickly ran off to the school library to change and get our escorts ready for the Grand March. I ran off to the staff bathroom and somehow got on my very, very tight pants and vest. I ran (OK, I walked as fast as I could as it's impossible to run in those pants) back to the library, and got help getting on my jacket. I quickly got beside my escort, who was my cousin Charlotte, and stood uncomfortably in the lineup. As we proceeded forward, I felt the butterflies in my stomach begin to punch and scream to let them out. No way was I puking during the ceremonies I said, and I then punched my gut to let those creatures know who was in charge.
We came out of the arch around the middle of the pack, and started walking towards the middle of the gym. I heard alot of excited whispers like "What is that guy wearing?" and "I'd hate to be his escort". However, I kept a straight, grim look on my face and sorta glared at the people you were pointing and talking about me and my cousin. We were stopped numerous times for pictures, much to our dismay, because I was sweating to death underneath the suit. We circled the gym twice, and on the second go round I was stopped again, but not for a picture. Some Senators fan had the gall to begin beaking me! Just because I love the Habs and have a duct tape suit doesn't mean I'm a weird person, does it? He began yelling about how the Sens, who were down 2-0 in the series at that point, were so much better than any other team and how they were going to win the cup. Well, I hate cocky, over-the-top fans. I mean, this guy must be hardcore hockey, and that's just not cool. I would have decked him save the fact I couldn't even hug anybody when I had the jacket on and he was about a foot taller and 50 pounds heavier. But whats size when you have guts? My escort pulled me away and we got back on track, walking to the left side of the gym, getting myself ready to go back on stage.
Now another dilemma arose. I couldn't walk up stairs. Yes, this is a problem because even if I did manage to get up stage, it would look very awkward and just plain old wrong. I began to sweat and I couldn't tell if it was the spotlight I was standing in front of or the fact that I was about to make a complete fool of myself. I then decided, with some encouragement from my friends Kelcie and Tamara, to rip open my vest and walk up the stairs backwards. I don't know the reason why, but I could walk up stairs backwards in these pants. All of a sudden the time came, and I stepped forward......
First of all I had to drop off my escort at her seat. I couldn't hug people, as I may or may not have entered earlier, so when she sat down I "pounded" her fist. For those less hip that is when two people punch fists, a sign of thanks. Anyways, I went up to the stairs, whirled around and ripped open my vest. I began dancing up the stairs backwards, my hands in the shape of guns as I pretended to shoot at the crowd. I nearly tripped as I missed the second last step, but I got on stage safely.
I then got help in ripping off my jacket (too hot), and then I sat down in my seat by the fan. I felt bad for the people in front of me for two reasons. One, I was hogging the fan, and two, the sweaty smell that came form my being was being pushed at them by the fan.
After the Grand March it was rather boring, me just sitting in my seat listening to people talk. After the ceremonies I talked to some people, with all of them asking about my suit. Seemed to me that they could care less about me, they just wanted to talk about how I got the suit mad, if there was material underneath, if it was hot (like that wasn't evident!). I then went outside and stripped off my pants in the street (this is true, just like the rest of my story), then drove home. Once I got home, I had my third shower of the day, and then made a fire and partied with my friends and family all night long. I was so hopped up on Pepsi I couldn't think straight, and I suppose it didn't help that I drank some 5 hour energy stuff I had found at a drugstore ( I wonder why there was a warning on it for people under the age of 18?). Anyway, I stayed up till about 5:00 AM with my cousin Joe before I crashed. And thus concludes today story, tune in next time when I try to remember another painful childhood memory.

Saturday, May 26, 2007

Countdown to grad

Well, graduation is almost here and I suppose that normal people are supposed to be getting nervous. However, I am not normal, therefore I am not nervous. I will get nervous about three hours before the ceremonies, and once I get on stage I will be perfectly fine. However, I should describe some of my graduation preparations with you.
My suit, oh man, it is the bomb. That is a good thing for you old, un-hip people. Anyway, it is made up of.......duct tape. No lies, my sister is a genius. Of course the suit was my idea, but she designed it and created it. Amazing, eh? Ya, and it is red and blue. Deadly, huh?
It is hard to walk around in, however, and is extremely hot. I just might die on stage. Either way I am sure to make news headlines in Debden and the local communities.
After grad I suppose I will come home, sit up all night drinking pop and eating s'mores, and then sleeping for a few hours. Then its off to some of my classmates barbeque's, and back home. Sleep some more, go to church, and then my barbecue begins. Yes, it is sure to be a nutty weekend. I shall tell more once the ceremonies are done, if I survive that is.

Monday, May 21, 2007

Impossible Problems

I have a problem. It isn't one of these do-or-die problems, but it still is a "pesky" question. I know, I hate those things too, that's why I call it a pesky problem.
Now this problem has harassed me for a long while, stupid thing. My problem is....I am unsure of myself.
"Wow," I hear you say, "I know what he means dude. I hate that too." Yes sir, or yes'm depending on your gender, I feel for you. It truly is agonizing, a pain in your mind. But is your problem the same as mine?
I am unsure about many things. I don't know how I will like life after school is over. Will I love the freedom I will be given, or will I merely turn into a wreck?
Will I be too busy in the summer and have to cut back on my workload?
Will I miss my friends when I am gone, or will I replace them and forget about them?
Do I like someone as a friend or as something more?
Will someone sign into MSN in the next minute?
You see, these are just some examples of my "pesky" problems. I need to become clear-headed, but it isn't like I can just go out and buy a wisdom pill. Wouldn't that be neat though? Anyway, I can pray, which I do anyway, and despite you may think I believe it works. But some of these things have been bugging me for a long time and they are frankly angering me. I will deal with them no doubt, and maybe I should ask others what they think I should do. But I think I will go and try to sort out some of these problems now.

Saturday, May 12, 2007

Fear tastes like hair

Well, I did it. No, I didn't rob a bank or get a girlfriend, nothing that extreme. I did, however, ride a horse.
OK, big deal, right? I know what you are thinking, "Everyone has ridden a horse, and now this knucklehead is writing about it being so amazing and stuff. I should quit reading this crap." Well, don't stop reading this blog, otherwise I'll hunt you down and....and.....well, hunt you down.
Anywho, back to this horse thing. I actually have ridden one before, but it was so long ago I can barely remember it. However, I must confess something: I am afraid of horses.
Yes, the impenetrable Jeremy Loseth is afraid of something. Ohhh, lets harass him now, maybe it will make us feel better. Ya, right, just remember what goes around comes around.
Right, where was I before you distracted me? Oh ya, the riding experience. Well, a good friend of mine got a horse, and she wanted me to ride it. Now I had dug myself this grave a long time ago, like a year or so. I promised to ride her future horse, as I didn't really think that she would get one while I was still at home. So I agreed, secretly smirking to myself because I thought I had just outsmarted her. Man was I ever wrong.
Well, it was Sunday and again she had been complaining about her father not giving in to her whining and begging for a horse. However, mere hours after this, she comes to the Esso and tells me that she got a horse. Well, I was gobsmacked. I smiled weakly and told her I was happy, my heart in my lower intestine as I knew the comment that would follow. Looking straight at me, Linsay smiled and said "Now you have to come and ride him."
I agreed and went home. Now I was flustered. Why, why did this happen to me? Why couldn't her dad wait 4 more months? If he wasn't such a tough guy, and my friends dad, I probably would have done....nothing.
Now I managed to put it off for a little while despite her and her friends harassing me. I had to work some nights and hunt others. But then came Thursday, and I had no excuse. I agreed to go over with my brother and ride it.
Well, the horse wasn't quite as big or as stinky as I imagined it was going to be. Needless to say, I was still scared, but felt a wee bit better. Linsay started to get the saddle and stuff ready as me and my brother were put to work brushing off the horse. However, the wind picked up and me and Derek offered to humbly leave and ride another day. Like that was going to work.
Well, she promptly took off the blanket and told me to get on. I must have looked absolutely horrified because she stifled a laugh and told me again. After some prodding, I got on and she led me around, trying to discreetly throw me off balance so I could be laughed at. Unfortunately for her, I have cat-like reflexes and stayed on. Derek got on and nearly cried, but survived the short walk.
Anyways, as I sit at home I have a urge to go back there and ride the horse again, this time with a saddle. It was actually kinda fun, and I am slowly getting hooked. I bet by the time summer is over I will be completely hooked, and then I will have a horrific withdrawal period at Nipawin.
Anywho, I faced my fear this week, and it felt good. Maybe you should do the same.

Thursday, April 26, 2007

Blue Mountain

Do you know how I'd love to spend my days off? Paintballing. Now I can't say that I'm a pro paintballer as I have gone a mere two times, both to the same place. And where did I go paintballing? Read the title and you'll find out.
Blue Mountain is more than a paintball course, it is an amusement center. There is wall climbing, zip lines and a whole lot more. It is really alot of fun. Anyway, I didn't do too much but paintball anyway, so I guess I'll be forced to tell you those stories.
The first time was rather boring, not enough people were there to make it interesting. But the second time I went, which was with the Shell Lake School classes 7/8/9, I had the best time of my life.
The first round was slow, a capture the flag type of game. The course was small and frantic, and I prefer the bigger places so I can run around and have more room to shoot. I got my wish on the second round.
The second round took place in a very large place. There was two foxholes where about 3 people could hide, and the main trench had room for about 6 or 7 people. The trenches overlooked a small bush that went around to the right of the trenches, and the left was another bushy area. The center was littered with things to hide behind, like a fridge and barrels. Anyways, I started up top and went into the far right trench overlooking the bushy area. I wasn't there alone of course, I had three other guys with me; Andrew, Morgan and Jesse. Now we couldn't really fit in there so well, so we kinda laid as flat as we could around it when there was no action.
A couple of minutes into the game I saw 2 people walking into the bush at the bottom of the hill. We opened fire but the range was too great and it was hard for us to hit them, but we bravely shot on. I could see the other trenches being peppered and occasionally the assailants would open up at us, but we held our ground well. When we turned back after a diversionary attack from the center, we could only see one of the two guys we had been shooting at. We fired when he got into a clearing, and we managed to shot him in the head. However, the far left trench was taken over and the center trench was hard pressed, so we were kinda alone. We sent Andrew and Jesse into the bush to see of they could find the second guy, and soon me and Morgan were alone. I fired a few rounds at some hiding dudes, but was unable to hit them. As I began to load a few more paintballs into my gun Morgan screamed and clutched the back of his head. The second guy was behind us, and I was next! I stared at him and prepared for a shot to the chest (seeing how that was the largest target), and just he was pulling the trigger the whistle blew. Time up, so we managed to hold them off in one trench, with me being the lone survivor.
The next round we were at the bottom of the hill, and when the whistle blew I shot up the left side as fast as I could. I dove into some cover and fired a few rounds, then my gun did the most horrid thing. It jammed. Yup, I was now defenceless and alone. I quickly ran up to the instructor guy and he fixed my gun in about 2 seconds, which made me think I was unworthy to play. However, I quickly ran back to the starting position and started the climb once more, passing some teammates who were climbing the center. I set my sites on the center trench which was pounding our boys and girls senseless. The left trench was gone, nobody left to defend it, so I got a little closer but kept to the trees. I saw heads popping up for a couple of seconds at a time, then disappearing quickly. I aimed for where I thought the next head would protrude, and my patience paid off. Two heads popped up and I unleashed a fury upon them, firing as fast as my finger could tap the trigger. Both people screamed and ran off to the area where the "wounded" went, and I thought I might have this situation turned around. I was pumped, I had saved the day! I single-handedly turned the tide of the battle, and now there was only a handful left. My cockiness nearly killed me.
I began to get up to jump into the empty left trench when I saw a gun pointed at me. I dove just in time and saw the tree that saved my life having the sap kicked out of it. I sheltered my head and waited for a ball to strike me anytime.
A sudden lull allowed me to get behind better cover, and the sniping started again. Me and the mystery shooter packed away furiously, each unable to hit the other. I then saw one of the parents crawling up the hill commando style, gun blazing at the main trench. It was one of the bravest things I have ever seen. Then I had my chance arrive.
The mystery man, obviously awestruck by the masked woman crawling up the hill regardless of a potential welt, stood up slightly to get a better view. I then rose slowly, firing three shots in quick succession. The third struck home and he went down in a heap't think of the word but you know what I'm thinking of.
The stillness after he went down stunned me, and I didn't know whether or not everyone was shot. A pair of hands then went up form the main trench, the last person holding out surrendering. A glorious day indeed.
I later got a wonderful shot through a 2 inch opening, totally fluke but beautiful nonetheless. The shot squeezed between the crack in a window, and struck a enemy player in the back of the head. Got a good laugh out of that.
Anyway, thus ends today's story, I shall write again soon enough, but as of right now I am suffering from eyestrain and must rest them. Maybe I'll watch a movie....

Saturday, April 21, 2007

Recon children

When I was a little tyke I always wanted to become a special operation soldier. Now this isn't out of the ordinary or anything for an 8 year old child, we all want to become policemen or army dudes. However, I got walkie-talkies for Christmas one year and it really got me going.
A week after I got these shiny new two-way radios we went to our annual Loseth Christmas get-together for 3 days at Christopher Lake. I loved it there, lots of family I could talk to and intense games of crokinole. Yes, life could be no better than that. However this year it was better because of my new gadgets. When we got there (our family was almost always last to arrive) I unloaded my stuff and ran to my room where I would be staying, claiming bottom bed. I then whipped out my walkies to show off to the three cousins I would be hanging out with all weekend.
Well, I was surprised to know that my older cousin Jason had also got walkie-talkies. I was also jealous because unlike my pink and black ones (which looked really sweet), he had a base set, my guess is for the headquarters, and then two other hand-held ones. And his were camo! I swallowed my pride and we all ran downstairs to make a base and start the reconnaissance.
After making a fort out of beds and mattresses, we quickly set up teams to go and spy on the older cousins. Now this year was scary, because there was some new faces in the place we were staying. My cousin had brought her boyfriend or fiance or something like that, and I was scared of him. He looked frightening, bald with piercings and what-not. Yes, I was truly going to have to watch myself around him, I couldn't trust him.
Well, we started out, all 3 of us, to go upstairs and start the spying. I think that Jason and Luke stayed downstairs, but I could be badly mistaken. I know someone was down there because I was talking to then via the new expensive toys.
As we started to watch two of my cousins, the one with the scary dude and her brother, who was also bald, something bad started to develop. They saw us. I don't know how they figured out we were spying on them, maybe it was the fact we sat underneath tables with walkie-talkies strapped to our bodies and our eyes glued to them. This is only a guess however, because the real reason is unknown.
Then my smallest cousin, who happened to be the bravest of us all, started to crawl towards the table at which these guys sitting around. I began to scream into the walkie-talkies to HQ, hoping that through them we could get Larsson to abort his suicidal mission. These guys were punks, and we were little children who still had most of their baby-teeth left (I actually knocked out one of my brothers baby-teeth here, swinging my arm and smoking him in the kisser accidentally). Our pleas for the madman to stop his advance to useless, and soon all we could do was watch in horror as he went right under our cousins chair. His small arms worked madly as our cousins continued to talk about how there freakishness was going, and how their band was going to be a huge hit.
All of a sudden Larsson crawled away, and we all blew a sigh of relieve. Larsson was laughing to himself, and we all wondered what he did.
All of a sudden Ryan, the bald cousin of ours (not the boyfriend, the cousin), tried to get up and to everyones surprise his chair came up with him. Larsson had wrapped his keychain around his chair and now he was stuck to it. Everyone in the cabin noticed this unusual phenomenon and began to do the only thing they could do; laugh. Ryan turned about 10 shades of red as he looked around as fast as he could, trying to find out who had done this unspeakable act of cruelty. When he saw a small boy rolling with laughter under a table with a walkie-talkie clipped to his shirt he knew at once hit was him. He lunged for for Larsson, roaring loudly (I never could figure out if it was a roar of anger or a roar of laughter), but Larsson was faster because he didn't have a chair stuck to his butt. We all escaped downstairs and enjoyed this time because for once in our young lives we came out on top.

Thursday, April 19, 2007

Do you dare....

Ahhh dares, one of the few things in the world that people can still enjoy. The mere sound of the word get people curious, wanting to know what idiotic thing someone will do so they won't look like a wimp.
Now don't get me wrong, I'm not encouraging people to go out and make a stupid dare and nearly get someone killed or arrested. There should always be a limit on what the dares are. For instance, if I was dared to ask out the cheerleader captain to supper, that is acceptable. If I was dared to shoot a vehicle with a paintball gun, I wouldn't (unless it was mine of course).
I, like every other normal human being, have been dared countless times. I have been dared to do weird, stupid, funny and even gross things. I haven't really been dared to do anything lately, which is fine by my standards, but have done some things that I have a slight reputation for. I shall share one of these stories so you may enjoy a good laugh or maybe so you can develop a lecture to tell your kids what not to do when dared. Well, here it is then.
I can't remember the first dare I had, nor will I ever remember it. I did, however, make one of the stupidest bets of my entire life. I agreed to drink one container of evaporated milk.
OK, before you react to harshly or laugh to hard or go off to drink one yourself, you must learn the reason why and the result. This is very important because I don't want my blog to be responsible for a emergency room trip or something.
My uncle was telling me stories on how he wanted to put on weight while he was doing some construction work in B.C., so he went out and bought a couple of cases of evaporated milk. He drank these for a while and put on a ton of weight. Now I am a thinner guy, and have always wanted to be a little bigger. Not that I wanted to be fat, but I wanted to be large enough so you could see me when I turned sideways.
I was talking to my friend Linsay when I mentioned this evaporated milk thing to her. I was wondering what it would taste like to drink one, because I'm that type of guy. She then dared me to drink one for some reason or other, and since I can't remember it I will leave it at that.
Well, I knew that I must do it or be called a wimp or loser or noob, so I agreed.
About a year later I was on a youth retreat down at Millar. Yes, this was the retreat where I was brutally beaten and left to die of shame or internal bleeding. Thankfully none of the two happened.
On the way back to our hometown we stopped at a gas station of some sort. I went to the bathroom, which is kinda funny because I was forced to use the women's restroom. I really had to go and there was a huge lineup, and since every other guy had to go badly they wouldn't let me go ahead of them. I then saw the girls in our group doing nothing, so I ran over and dragged them back to the bathroom area. I asked them to watch over the bathroom and make sure that no other ladies came in, and they agreed to do so. I ran in and they stood there like two bodyguards protecting the president. However, normal bodyguards don't laugh and tell everyone else who is the ladies bathroom. I survived again and ran out of it, embarrassed to the max.
As we were ready to leave Linsay noticed that there was evaporated milk in the stores freezer. I told her if she bought it I would drink it, and she wouldn't spent the $1.50 or so it was so I bought it myself. I told her I couldn't drink it there because I would get sick, and told her I would when we got home.
4 hours later we arrived home, and as I stood standing outside the local ESSO a can was thrust into my face. I swallowed and went inside to get a can opener, and then returned outside after I had opened it. It was dark outside, probably about 8:30, and I looked at the cow on the can. It was just me and him, and I concentrated as hard as I could to get my stomach ready. I threw the can to my lips and started to chug.
The first thing I noticed was the milk was warm, a little too warm for my liking. I also noticed it was very thick, but I closed my eyes and continued to tilt my head back. As the milk made its way into my stomach my brain was screaming at me to stop and throw this back up. I shook my head and continued like a brave soldier on a suicidal mission, waiting for the end to come. Finally the milk stopped flowing and I threw down the can, standing myself up normal again. I quickly bent over as the wave of nausea hit me, and nearly passed out from the pain. I could feel the thick, warm milk curdling inside of my stomach, a horrible experience don't you know. I quickly lunged for my huge slushy cup, and ripped open the lid. I then realized I couldn't hurl all this up, I had to hold it back until the girls left. Anna and Linsay both began gathering bags as I curled up on the frozen ground praying I could see my parents one last time.
Thankfully the girls ride arrived right away, and they threw their bags into the van. I stood up to say goodbye, and then I quickly went home myself. I didn't puke, but I know that I would never do that again (unless it was a good reason, like a date with someone or something).
And what did I get in return for this act of courage? A hug, which is much better than anything I could have wished for.

Sunday, April 15, 2007

A new tradition

This is a wonderful poem that my uncle whipped up one day after a successful hunting trip. It has been a favorite of mine and shall be read every time I go out to hunt, or so I hope. Maybe I'll just memorize it and sing it to myself when I am all alone, freezing in a treestand or being charged by a bear. This is also the eve of spring bear season, so it is only fitting to have a hunting story in it. So here it is, "The Ballad of Siki".



Ray Loseth

Thursday, April 12, 2007

Face Down

If you don't get the title for this blog, I suppose I will have to forgive you. The title "Face Down" is by a band called The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus, and it has a very powerful message. The song is about a woman who is being abused by her husband. Now if you can put two and two together (wow, say that 5 times real fast) you will get what this blog is about. That is right my wee grasshopper, it is about abuse. My personal abuse by.....women.
Ok, so if you are a guy reading this you are probably scoffing at me and telling me I must be really weak or something to let a girl, or girls, beat me up. If you are a girl reading this you must be thinking that I deserved it. Nonsense to both accounts, I didn't deserve it and I am in fact not weak, I just never like to show off the hidden strength. I shall now tell you the horrid tales of the abuse I have put up with.
I can remember vividly when the abuse started. My brother Derek and sister Rachel love to tease me and beat me up. OK, so that's perfectly normal family behaviour, right? WRONG! I must have been a threat to them or something because it was always both of them at once instead of one at a time. They would descend on me like wraiths in the night, silent and deadly. I know what your thinking, "Man this dude overreacts alot, he just wants to get his story more interesting". Not at all my dear reader, not at all. They actually had "Pick-on-Jeremy-days" once a week, where they would spend all day harassing me. This didn't mean that they didn't annoy me the other 6 days a week, it was just worse on that one day. Rachel actually jumped on my head one day and made me cry. Ya, it hurt.
After Rachel was gone, the beatings stopped. This is probably because Derek knew he was powerless by himself, and he quickly slinked his way back into the shadows of his room. Now then, I had a friend named Kelcie (yes, the same person who ran from the bear) who took up the beatings. It wasn't too bad, at least not compared to the beatings that Rachel gave me. She would punch me at work and such things, but at least she didn't jump on my head. I quickly ended her rein of terror by jabbing her shoulder with my pointed fingers, and after nearly paralyzing her arm a truce was announced and it has been in place ever since. I was in good shape and heading into the final stretch for high school, so the outlook was good. I was unstoppable, or was I......?
I have a couple of friends, Linsay and Anna, who learnt their evil ways from another of my cousins, Kealie. Kealie is the one who roars like a man, but she is very attractive and nice when you get past the right jab. This is a hint to all you guys who want a fiery, I'm-in-charge kinda person. Anywho, she had a major influence on these other two innocent ladies who were very nice. All of a sudden I was being beaten on by these three girls, although they didn't have the strength of Rachel. When the ringleader (Kealie) left for Bible School, I thought it would all end. Wow, don't know how I figured that.
The most humiliating beating was at a youth retreat in Millar, where Kealie attended Bible School. I was sitting on a couch in the lounge, with Anna sitting on my left, and Linsay to the left of her. I had been fencing earlier that day with a real sword, and had got stabbed below the belt. So here I am hurting and thinking that these two angels of mercy have come to comfort me. I believe it started out that way, but about 5 minutes into the conversation they struck! I muttered something intelligent like "stupid feelings", referring to the emotional distress I had just been thru by being stabbed (by a girl nonetheless). Well, being the conclusion-jumpers they are, they thought I had said "stupid females". No way this is possible of course, why would I say such a daft thing in front of them? Well, Anna gasped in horror and swung a left hook in my direction. Of course I had no clue that this was coming, and I was very quickly doubled over.
I wish I could tell you that this was the end, but far from it my friend. While I was trying to gulp in life preserving air, they both leapt on me! I am defenceless for 3 reasons:
1) I can't hit girls, it's against my beliefs (plus there are about 50 other people in the room).
2) I'm hurt
3) They have just body slammed me into the ground, and having 2 people on you limits your movements.
The beating lasted about about a half minute, but the emotional pain was much longer. By the time I had gotten up, they didn't even want to talk to me. When the finally listened to my explanation, they had too much pride in what they did and said a pretty sad "I'm sorry". They had tasted the blood, and once they get the scent of blood they keep coming back for more, just like a shark. I have been beaten many times since then, and 99% of those times I have been totally innocent. You want another example of my innocence because my story doesn't make you believe? Alright then, here is another example.
Mont Nebo, winter 2006. We are playing a came of some sorts, where you have to go and grab a milk carton from the opposite base and bring it back without being caught. I had just stolen a carton from the enemy base and was running back around the youth can when it happened. I can remember everything in slow motion, the crunch of the snow underfoot with light snowflakes coming down slowly. I turn the corner around the front of the van, my safety zone a mere 20 feet away. I then see two shapes, like doomsday riders without horses. I see one of the shapes, more likely Linsay because Anna is really small, go into a bodychecking position, shoulder up and feet lifting off the feet. I tried to backpedal but it was too late, and I got nailed.
Now this was no ordinary hit, this was a Mike Komisarek/Dion Phanuef hit. If you haven't seen any of these hockey players hit, you are really missing something. This hit nearly knocked me out, and as I was falling to the ground and my eyesight dimming, I saw my carton flying gracefully in a high arc over my head. The next thing I remember is high pitched laughter and a wicked headache. I completed the game, though I wasn't the same afterwards.
Well, these incidents have definitely been the most painful and memorable, not to mention the most humiliating. However, I have to forgive the fairer gender for this, as we males have pushed around the women for a long time. This is payback for all the years that guys have made fun of ladies, calling them cootie-heads and icky-faces.
Now that I have told you all of my experiences concerning womanly abuse, I'd like to hear yours. This is a heavy hint for you to leave a comment, so do it!

Thursday, April 5, 2007

Le New School

New things are scary. You know as well as I do that not all new things may be scary, but a handy majority have you thinking that this could be bad. Seriously, that is the number one reason why people don't like to do new things: it's just too scary. Now that I thoroughly have you thinking and believing that new things are scary, here is my newest blog entry (and don't you dare get scared and run!):
I admit that I am a coward. Yes people, the truth has sprung forward and I am a chicken. I don't like new things (unless they are birthday presents or something, then it's totally awesome!) for really unknown reasons. When I took my drivers training, I was scared. When I got to start my new jobs, I was scared. When I faced down my first drunk at the ESSO, I was understandably frightened. Now with the exception of the latter example, those are pretty minor right? I mean, I look back on those times and say something like "Ha, I can't believe I was scared of that, what a dork I was". One example of this is the day I went to a new school in Debden. It has me laughing to this very day. Here is the story:
Now you have to understand the circumstances before you laugh at me.I am a skinny white boy who is leaving the safety of his hometown to go to another school where I will know absolutely no one. Nada. Add to this the fact I have to get up at 7:15 to get ready for the bus, and you have a tired, cranky and frightened kid.
I also have heard stories of the "Frenchies" athletic abilities, and it is something else. The whole town pretty much played every sport under the sun, and were short but tough, or so the stories go. Now they are what people would call "jocks". I was a certified nerd (you can look at my certificate for Geeks International if you want). Now then, Jocks and Nerds generally don't mix well, and this was yet one more reason to be scared. Throw in an hour long bus ride which gives you much time to think what life will be like after wedgies and swirlies, and you get why I was nervous.
When I got to Debden (the new town), I had no clue where to go. I was like a lost puppy in a large city, scared and needing to pee. I followed my cousin into the school, and slowly found my locker. After that I went to my classroom, which happened to be right by my locker, and sat in a seat I hoped wasn't the property of some large goon. The teacher was a big guy, but I considered him an ally cuz he could stop people beating on me. Then I saw a Toronto Maple Leafs poster and lost all hope in this new school.
It started good enough, I had a few looks that made me uncomfortable, but it was going good. Then came noon. I had successfully held my pee in till now, and on my way to the restroom I met one of my classmates. I had only heard him called "Chief", so as I passed him I said "hey Chief" or something equally as cool. Well, he quickly grabbed me and got into my grill. I now really needed to pee. This is how the following conversation went:
"Why did you call me Chief? Only my homeboys call me that."
"Sorry man, I didn't know, I just heard everyone else call you that."
"Well, I guess you can call me that, but be careful."
"Yes sir, thanks sir, gotta go sir."
OK, so that was the first half. Gym now came. Now I love my sports (I have shed my nerd status), but this meant I had to change with a dozen guys I didn't know. This was a little frightening, since they were all scary looking, lippy kids. The took one look at me without my shirt on and kinda chuckled. Well, we were going to play badminton so I could sit out for a while, as there weren't enough courts for everyone to play. Now I sat against the wall, with a kid named Joel on my right, and beside him was a girl named Tanya. There was also another conversation that went something like this:
"Hey Tanya, do you want to date my good friend Jeremy? He's really swell."
I musta looked horrified, cuz I didn't know Joel or Tanya, so I was understandably nervous. Tanya kinda laughed and told him no. Well, Joel now looked shocked. He quickly answered her silent answer with an outburst of anger and hurt.
"Why not!? Jeremy is awesome. I'd date him in a heartbeat."
Now I don't know about you, but this made me very uncomfortable. It seemed to me that Joel is trying to pick me up, and this wasn't what I normally encounter. He was a good-looking guy to most I'm sure, but not to me. I don't swing that way I guess you would say. Anywho, I quickly shut him down, with a face that must have resembled a tomato, and walked to a safer spot. Yes, I was scared, but it makes me laugh every time I hear it.
Everything has turned out well in Debden for me, school has been great and I've made new friends. However, this first day of school will be a blemish on the French school in my mind. Joel and me still talk, and I have found out he's not 3.25% (think milk), so this is a good thing.
Well, I hope that this story will teach you that new things can be scary, but you will overcome it and see that one day it will help you out. I am a little scared to go to Nipawin Bible School, but its nothing I can't overcome. And when I get scared, I remember this one Bible verse which was given to me by a very dear friend of me (thanks a bundle Linsay, and sorry for not going to movie night!).
Joshua 1:9 "Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be terrified; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go."