Montana Jones

1969 was a very good year

• In 1969, man first walked on the moon.
• In 1969 the first packet switched router connected two computers on different ends of the country.
• In 1969 Monty Python's Flying Circus first aired in the UK.
• In 1969 the Boeing 747 jumbo jet took its first flight.
• In 1969 the first Automatic Teller Machine was installed.
• In 1969 the first album in the heavy metal genre was released (Led Zepplin I).

Oh yeah, and in 1969 some guy named Jones was born. This blog is no longer the adventures of a thirty-something guy. It is now the adventures of a forty-something guy.

Labels: 1969, age, aircraft, ATM, birthday, first, Montana Jones, Music

Posted by: Montana Jones / 5:16 PM 4 comments

Holy crap do my feet hurt

Makes me wonder if my boots are really all that good.

Makes me wonder if it is the mileage or the elevation gain.

Makes me wonder if I am getting too old for this long dusty trail shit.

Makes me wonder what all of this summers hikes will do to me.

Reminds me that I get to do a heckuvalota hiking in the summer.

Makes me grateful for my blessings and eager for the next time my feet hurt.

Labels: age, boots, grateful, hike, hiking, hurt, summer

Posted by: Montana Jones / 7:29 PM 1 comments

Grab bag

She:

Are you wearing shorts already?

Me:

I've been wearing shorts all winter.

She:

I believe that.

She:

And how are you doing today?

Me:

I'm still kicking and screaming.

She:

That's horrible.

Me:

No, it's a good thing. It means the man hasn't beaten me down yet.

Me:

Definitive proof that I'm not young anymore.

She:

What's that?

Me:

I just tried to send a text message but couldn't.

She:

You couldn't send a text message?

Me:

Yeah, I accidentally sent it to myself. And typing on those phone pads, screw that.

She:

Kids these days love their text messages.

Me:

Yup. I just proved that I'm no kid.

Labels: age, banter, conversation, miscellaneous, random, shorts, text message, the man, youth

Posted by: Montana Jones / 8:52 PM 0 comments

Locked Out

The center beam was artistically slanted inwards between the two vertical supports and it was just wide enough for my boot. It was fairly easy to grasp the outer posts, brace myself and walk the center beam up to my balcony. The visual flashed in my mind that if my grip slipped right now I would fall flat on my back and probably knock my head pretty good. I shooed the thought away and focused on the foot, foot, hand, hand alternations I needed to climb. At the balcony railing I shifted my grip to the bars and tried to pull myself up hand over hand. Action heroes in the movies make this part look easy, I was surprised how difficult it was to pull my own weight up even a few inches. I struggled myself up far enough to awkwardly contort my foot up to a purchase on the balcony ledge. An ungraceful move but it did get me to where I could raise to a stand on the outside of the balcony railing.

Back when I was younger I had gotten pretty good at crossing fences with a combat roll. Throw yourself headfirst over the top, plant a hand while lifting your legs up and over behind you and then a pivot, tumble brings you right side up and usually on your feet. When done well it both looks cool and feels good. This time the gymnastics were more of a face first surge over the rail onto the balcony floor. All the grace a sack of cement would have being manhandled into submission. I wanted to blame the heavy boots and the thick winter clothes on my lack of style, but the truth is that I am not a young man anymore.

I don't recall from my youth putting so much effort into leaving the house. Choosing the right pair of shoes for the snow and wet, the right jacket, the checklist of phone, wallet, checkbook, to-do list, hat, gloves. I can recall being a much more carefree youth. But then again, carefree attitudes will let you forget your keys until you are halfway between locked front door and locked car door.

After coming in from the balcony and collecting my keys, right where I left them on the desk, I set off again on my outing. I was feeling pretty good about myself for having overcome my obstacle, but as I settled into the drivers seat I realized my heart was racing and my hands were shaking. My body was not used to exerting and climbing. The sedentary winter hasn't helped either. A few deep breaths calmed my heart and my muscles steadied themselves. My shoulders would be sore tomorrow, my shin ached from a collision. But mostly I was sad. I was sad for the young man that used to climb trees and cross fences without a second thought. There was a day when I would not have cared about the right shoes or jacket or even a to-do list. I could have climbed a balcony with ease; I would have done it for the fun of it. I was sad that an older, fastidious, less fit person was now living in my place.

Labels: age, balcony, climb, fitness, gymnastics, locked out, youth

Posted by: Montana Jones / 7:45 AM 1 comments

Birthdays don't stop

Mom:

And dad has a birthday coming up in a couple weeks too.

Me:

Oh yeah, that's right.

Mom:

It's his 68th.

Dad:

There won't be a party.

Me:

No worries. I'll do the partying for you.

Mom:

Right on.

Me:

Wait a minute. Did you say 68?

Dad:

Yeah. Want to make something of it?

Me:

What are you doing in your sixties? Weren't you guys just in your fifties the other year?

Mom:

Yeah. 18 years ago.

Me:

Sheesh. I can't keep up.

Labels: age, birthday, conversation, dad, mom

Posted by: Montana Jones / 7:46 AM 0 comments