Water and Sleep and the Fourth of July

Let me begin with useful information before attempting to entertain. Some suggest a glass of water before sleep is very healthy; keeping the blood fluid.

In accord with the bulletproof diet, I get their e-mails, the best way to quench one’s thirst and rehydrate is to drink plain water with a pinch of Himalayan salt. The diet also recommends mineral water, and in true bulletproof fashion they will be marketing a bulletproof water upgrade at their Biohacking Conference in October.

And what better way to celebrate the Fourth of July than on the water. The family gathered at my brothers lakefront residence in Lake Country. The day ended with a fabulous fireworks display over North Lake. Scant attention was paid by most to a paper lantern, one of many launched by fools of some kind, that failed and landed in a tree above where we all sat. It’s combustion failed to spread. I heard Shawano, a city known to my ancestors, held their last fireworks this year in response to past fires associated with the event.

What greater purpose does water maintain than to hold fish to be caught? Not sure. Yes the holiday outing included fishing. As my brothers were more than happy to command and navigate indigenous craft about the lake for the enjoyment of their spawn, when it came to getting rods to work and worms on hooks my name, proceeded by uncle, rang from the mouths of all.

My mother reminisced over my grandfather as she watched her grandchildren fish. I reminisced myself as I wondered how in Heaven anyone could tangle up a rod like the one I was trying to untangle; knowing well that I had been successful in accomplishing the same impossibility, leaving my grandfather cursing in words that would never be considered a curse today as he worked to undo my handiwork. Of course I didn’t drop the rod and walk away as if nothing happened.

Yes I caught a fish. As I frustrated over the tangled line, I thought of my grandfather. Task accomplished I cast out the small yellow jig and the largest fish of the day struck as the lure hit the water; a yellow jig, as the day was overcast at the time. The brighter the day the lighter the color of your lure. White works on a sunny day. Sounds counterintuitive but it’s true, straight from the Buck Perry school of fishing. A bobber was set to keep the lure from dragging on the bottom. You just jiggle it in slowly in this case.

An eighteen inch large mouth bass; a keeper. I brought it in on the boat landing and lifted it into the air. The result was an onrush of a horde screeching and squealing children. They sounded like dozens though ten would be a more accurate accounting.

“I want to touch it.” rang shrill in my ears.

“No, put it down. I want to step on it!”

“No, I want to step on it!”

I of course remained unshaken amidst the oratory assault, my mind consumed in contemplating that age old question; ‘Why would anyone want to step on a fish?’

Having asked my wife twice to get the bucket out of the car a persevered the deafening shrill against my ears. ‘She must be walking up with the bucket by now.’ I thought, lifting my head only to find my wife sitting right where she had been. The third time is a charm.

I felt worse for the fish than for myself over the intense sharp volumes surrounding its capture, as it waved calmly in the bucket, into which one of my nieces tried to drop her line to catch it again. I always intend to eat what I catch but the thought of attempting to clean the fish, surrounded by tiny prodding fingers driven by interest lacking judgment, could have easily resulted in a digital disaster. I released the fish after it quieted down. He moseyed away as if to say, “It’s about time.”

And I really look like crap in that picture. My wife had said something to me a week previous. The doctor, my sleep clearly recorded on my CPAP, told me to get more sleep. The last month or so I have not been able to sleep much at all. I also gained a bit of weight. You cannot lose weight without good sleep. This last Saturday morning I slept ten hours.

Believe it or not the weight dropped quickly.

Then I baked a cake. I didn’t slice it. My wife, protesting my choice of frosting claimed she would never eat it. That didn’t last long.

I have also been very active the last several days. I intend to create our downtime space in the basement. The basement upgrades advance slow and steady, but mostly slow. My goal being to make our upstairs room where we have the TV into a prayer room. Consumed with a sudden urge to have some place nicer than the corner of our bedroom for prayer I set to work at a blistering pace. Our family room has been crowded together with my downstairs office.

It is good to pray. It is good to pray with your family. Often we are completely ignorant of all that it takes for God to answer our prayers. It’s best to just be grateful when He does, even if you’ve forgotten or given up.

In the process I made radical rearrangements of the entire house. I was surprised at my wife’s reaction. It seems she has her own designs on how the furniture should be laid out. I ensured her that I know best. You can imagine how that went over. I’m still waiting for the fireworks.

At times like these it’s good to sleep, after a cool glass of water, with one eye open.

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