Trump’s top five next phone calls

I used to think the next world war might be started by escalations of tensions in the Middle East, or North Korea having a bad day. Now I think it's more likely to be Donald Trump accidentally butt-dialing some random leader with nuclear weapons.

Trump's top five next phone calls:

5. Darth Vader. “Love that death star, big as a planet. Very bigly. Every country should have a death star.”

4. Sauron: “Where'd you get that big eye thing? It's yuuuge. Gotta get one of those for Trump Tower.”

3. Hans Gruber: “Some say you’re just a common thief. I think you’re a terrific thief. Exceptional, just terrific.”

2. Goldfinger: “You think that Oddjob fella could give my cabinet some henchmen lessons?”

1. Gru: “Hey, you’re despicable and I’m deplorable! We gotta get you into my cabinet. Hear you’re interested in the moon. How’d you like to be head of NASA?”

Boating is fun. Having a boat . . . not so much.

Saturday. Beautiful day. So we go down to the dock, hop in the boat and get ready to go, push the button to lower the boat lift . . . nothing. Battery’s dead. Okay, no big deal. We have a portable power pack we always bring along, just in case. Hook that up and . . . nothing. It was plugged in overnight and should have a full charge, but it’s dead. Okay, guess we won’t be going out today after all. Dean set up our solar panel, which we hadn’t set up this year because we’ve been planning to demo the dock and build a new one but didn’t know when exactly that would happen. Sunny day so the solar panel should charge it up.

Sunday morning. Big storm coming so we want to move the boat as far forward on the shore station as we can. The waves tend to hit it from the front and side, pushing it back. So we hit the button and . . . no power. Solar panel didn’t have enough time or sun to charge it and our portable power pack is officially a brick. Okay. Dean goes back to the house to get the jumper cables and we used the boat battery to jump the shore station, got the boat lowered, pulled it as far forward as we could and raised it back up. That’s pretty much all we can do to try to keep it secure.

Sunday afternoon/evening. The lake is a churning mass of whitecaps. Our neighbor calls to tell us “your boat’s really getting pounded.” We went down to check it out. Yeah, just as we feared. Huge waves from the northwest coming up under the boat, lifting it and pushing it back, then slamming it down again. But there isn’t much we can do. It is getting pushed back, but since it was so far forward to start with we’re hoping it will be okay.

When we left it Sunday afternoon, the bow extended about two feet over the dock on the right side of this picture. Here's where it was Monday morning.

Monday morning. Boat’s fine. One of our neighbors wasn’t so lucky. There’s a 34 foot boat belonging to a neighbor about half a dozen docks north of us washed up on its side on the shore south of our dock. Our boat was pushed way back, and the shore station was moved back about two feet as well, but it all looks okay. Until we take a closer look. The shore station is damaged. A bunk is broken and the support in the back middle has cracked, pushing the two back supporting beams outward. We can’t lower the boat because the beams are pushed so far out that they won’t clear the dock on either side.

Monday afternoon. Dean borrows a come-along and portable charger since ours is dead, a friend comes over and they try to pull the two support beams close enough together so they’ll clear the dock. No go. The weight of the boat is pushing them out. The salvage barge is here and they’re working on getting that bashed-up boat out with their big mechanical arm. Dean talks to the guy – he’s the same guy who’s giving us an estimate for replacing our dock. He says when he’s done with the salvage job, he can come back and lift up the back of our boat. Taking the weight off the framework will make it possible to pull those support beams back into position so we can lower the boat. Sounds good. Dean tells him to be sure to call before he comes over so we can take the canopy down first.

Tuesday afternoon. No call yet from the barge guy but he’s probably pretty busy. Lots of damage from the storm. So after work we’re ready to go down and take the canopy off when our friend Gary calls. Our boat is over there tied up in his neighbor’s boat slip. Barge guy just came over without calling us, got it off the lift and took it over to Gary’s. So now we have no god-damned f*cking way of getting the canopy off. Leaving the canopy on over the winter would wreck the canopy for sure and possibly the whole shore station. With the canopy on and without the weight of the boat to hold the shore station down, a wind storm can pick the whole thing up and wreck it. The canopy is 10 feet wide and 20 feet long. Under the right (make that wrong) wind conditions, the whole thing can turn into a giant kite.

So damn damn damn. The canopy is fastened to the framework all around the edges and in a line down the middle. From the dock we can reach a few of the fasteners along the sides but not the front, back or middle.

Thursday/Friday. We had to reject Plan A (making the shore station workable) because upon further inspection it has more damage than we thought. We thought about Plan B (a makeshift platform laid across the 11-foot span of the slip) and finally rejected it as stupid and unworkable. So we went with Plan C. We went over to Gary’s, got in the boat and brought it back to our shore station. We can’t put it up on the lift, though. Which means that in order to reach the canopy, we’ll be standing on a stepladder. A big stepladder. In a rocking boat.

Good thing Dean is tall. He did most of the stepladder work while I did my best to hold the boat steady and maneuver it into position to reach the various fasteners. Got everything unfastened so now we just need to get the canopy off the framework and into the boat. But damn, how do we push it up and out? Even on the ladder, Dean’s fingertips just barely reach the fasteners on the underside of the framework. 

Okay, what do we have on the boat to work with? What would MacGyver do? Hey, we have an aluminum pole with a rubber tip on the end. It’s meant to prop up the canvas to help it shed water when the boat is buttoned up but not under a protective roof. We use that to pop the canopy off the corners and then start the tedious task of trying to roll it back from both ends, over the slats of the framework so we can pull it down in the middle.

When we’re working from the boat raised up on the lift as we normally do, all this is within easy reach and we can usually get the canopy down in about ten minutes. This took over an hour but we got it down without hurting the lift, the boat, or ourselves. Boat, trailer and canopy are all home safely and ready to be winterized.

Boating is fun. Having a boat is mostly work. We’d be better off if we didn’t have a boat and just had friends who did. 

At least we're not this poor bastard. Doesn't look so bad in this photo but it was all bashed in on the side and bottom and it was totaled. We went by his dock and the big (formerly straight)  steel I-beam that supported the end of his shore station was twisted into a U-shape. Guy who owns it also owns the bar and grill a couple of miles up the road, so we figure a burger and fries there will probably go from $12 to around $45.

Cherry helicopters. They're a thing out here.

This is the orchard at the end of our driveway yesterday, after a rainstorm moved through.

The cherries are ripening almost a month early this year. It’s already cherry season, and that means when it rains, these little helicopters come out. The sugar in the cherries will draw the moisture of the rain through the skin into the cherry, and it will keep drawing in moisture until the cherry bursts. So when it rains in cherry season, these little helicopters come out to dry off the orchards.

Fun fact: even though the cherries aren’t usually ripe until the last week of July or first week of August, our annual cherry festival is always held the third weekend of July. Why? “Because we’ve always had it that weekend. We can’t have it the last weekend of July because that’s the car show and we can’t have it the first weekend of August because that’s the Good Old Days festival.”

So yes, that means that most years, cherries for the cherry festival are brought in from Washington, where the crop is earlier, while the local cherries are usually a week or two away from being ripe. Why not have the cherry festival during the time the local cherries are usually ripe? Because “it’s always on the third weekend of July,” and that’s that. But this year, instead of being too early for the local crop, it looks like it will be too late. The first cherry stands are already open. 

Taking the Early Flight from Now On

Yes, I should have checked the flight status before going to the airport, but I had meetings all morning and then had to dash back to the hotel with ten minutes to change, finish packing and catch the airport shuttle. Got to the airport, got through security, went to the gate and checked the flight status before settling down to read a while before boarding started. Flight status: delayed. Five freaking hours. Which meant I would miss my connection in Denver by four hours.

This sucks on any trip, but for this particular one it was extra sucky, because the McQuade softball tournament was going on. That meant every hotel room in town had been booked for months. I spent what seemed an eternity on the phone with United and it was soon apparent that I wasn’t getting out of Bismarck until the next day. So . . . I guess I’m spending the night in the airport? Then I remembered it doesn’t stay open all night. They close when the last flight comes in. So . . . I guess I’m spending the night in the airport parking lot?

I made what I knew would be a futile call to the Expressway Suites, where I had checked out earlier.

“Sorry, we’re all booked up with the softball tournament but I’ll check . . . hey, whaddayaknow, a room just opened up. It’s a king-

“I’LL TAKE IT!”

“You sure? It’s a king-

“I’LL TAKE IT!”

Getting a room on Friday with no reservation with the McQuade softball tournament in town was like hitting the jackpot and winning the lottery. I would have taken a cot in their storage closet. So that afternoon instead of landing in Missoula I’m checking back in to a hotel in Bismarck. Sucks, but I’m really lucky to have a place to stay at all. When the guy checked me in, it took a while and I was getting worried that the whole “we actually have a room for you” thing was a mistake. But he was trying to find the quietest room for me. “I’ll put you in this one. Best I can do. You’re the only person on the floor who isn’t with a softball team. Oh, you’ll want these.” He tossed me a little package. It contained a set of earplugs.

A little later I turn on the local news, and their first story features the guy at the front desk who checked me in. They’re talking to him about how full all the hotels are with the tournament in town. “Oh yeah, we’ve been full for months. Every place in town is full. People make reservations a year in advance. I have one team that always has reservations for the next four years.” I had to crank up the volume on the TV a bit to hear the story, since there was a party going on under my window.

I didn’t use the earplugs. I was afraid I wouldn’t hear my alarm and I had a ridiculously early flight out. I wanted the first flight so I’d have other options in case it was delayed or cancelled. Left Bismarck ridiculously early as scheduled, easily caught my connection in Denver and was landing in Missoula shortly after 10 a.m. From now on I’m always taking that ridiculously early flight.

Summer People Vs. Lobster

No, it’s not the year's worst attempt at a blockbuster summer movie. It’s another sequel in the long-running series of dramatic vignettes that play out in a small blue-collar town where a lot of rich people have summer homes. Our scene: grocery store, late afternoon in June. Dramatis personae: summer woman in casual designer chic and a big burly butcher.

Summer woman: “Where are the live lobsters?”

Butcher: “Sorry, we don’t have any.”

Summer woman: “What do you mean, you don’t have any? I’m having a party this weekend and I’m serving lobster.”

Butcher: “We have frozen lobster tails over there.”

Summer woman: “Frozen? FROZEN? Do you really think I’d serve my guests FROZEN lobster?”

Butcher: “I can order some for our next delivery if you like. Truck comes in Tuesdays and Thursdays.”

Summer woman: “Well, it’s Thursday, so get me some.”

Butcher: “The delivery came this morning. Next one is Tuesday.”

Summer woman: “My party is this weekend. I need live lobsters for tomorrow night.”

Butcher: “I can’t get any until Tuesday.”

Summer woman: “You have stores in Kalispell and Missoula, right? So call them, see if they have live lobsters and have them bring me some.”

Butcher: “Sorry ma’am. Best I can do is order some for Tuesday.”

The summer woman kept going on about how she needed them TODAY. A notable characteristic of the summer people species is that they think if they keep repeating how much they need something, it will magically appear. I didn’t stick around for the denouement. I’ve seen how this ends. So sorry about the milk, checkout lines, regular cheese, free-range beef, kobe beef and ice cream cones, doing your own shopping, and other indignities you suffer here. Hope the scenery makes up for it.

Dean Must Be Having Me Followed

I’m convinced Dean is having me followed. The conversation with the private investigator probably went something like this:

PI: “So, you want her followed?” Nodding his head knowingly.

Dean: “Yes, every Friday. She usually leaves around noon.”

PI: “Goes to see her boyfriend, huh?”

Dean: “She’ll probably be going to the hardware store.”

PI: “Oh, that’s where she meets him?”

Dean: “No, we just always need stuff from the hardware store.”

PI: “Right. Then she goes to meet her boyfriend.”

Dean: “Then she goes to the farmer’s market.”

PI: “Okay, she meets him there.”

Dean: “No, she looks for fresh produce.”

PI: “Okay, then what?”

Dean: “Then sometimes she’ll go to the salon.”

PI: “I see. Getting her hair done for the boyfriend.”

Dean: “No, just getting a trim.”

PI: “Okay, then she goes to his place.”

Dean: “No, then she goes to the grocery store.”

PI: “Getting something for a special dinner with her boyfriend?”

Dean: “No, just the usual stocking up. Then she comes home.”

PI: “Home? No boyfriend? So why the hell do you want her followed?”

Dean: “Call me when she turns into the driveway. I always like to get home exactly five minutes after she’s finished putting the groceries away.”

The Easter bunny’s top five complains about his job:

5. Millennials telling him his baskets aren’t “Instagram-worthy.”

4. Trying to deliver to Washington. Congress always blocks him, complains when they don’t get any candy, and blames Obama.

3. Delivering to the Trump household. It’s hard to find a basket that will fit those tiny, tiny hands.

2. Hops his ass off all day but doesn’t even get a trending hashtag.

1. Thought he had enough baskets for the Cruz household, but it turns out he needs five more.