Happy Halloween! I think I'm going to try and use "spooktacular" to describe my day year-round now. For example, how was my June 9th? Spooktacular! Speaking of spooky, I voted yesterday--early voting is sweet, I was in and out in about 10 minutes. Now that my obvious Obama vote is in place, I almost want to tune out until Wednesday morning and hopefully hear good news when I wake up, though I'm still skeptical of a country that voted George Bush into office. I also think that it's mind-boggling that people are still reporting in as undecided. I would hate to try and pick out a movie to see with these people. "What do you want for dinner?" must be an endlessly complicated process.
By the way, I can't take credit for the cool pumpkin--that's my sister's work. While I have a respectable hand for carving pumpkins, this is way out of my league--good job Amy!
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
A decade of beanie babies? Well not for me, but as of October 25th my eBay account is offically 10 years old! Hard to think the site has been around that long, let alone I found it that early. I actually had a beta account in 1997 (I think) that was purged when they restructured the site. My first purchase was a lot of Sega Master System games on October 27th, 1998. And with National video Game Day a mere month away, I figured an homage to my favorite game acquisition site was worth mentioning.
And from the land of the rising sun, where Paul and Mandy currently reside, is the tail (haha!) of Super Station Master Tama the cat. Apparently, Xanadu's Japanese cousin-kitty has raised over 10 million US dollars for tourists who come to visit her or buy any of her railroad themed merchandise.
I'm thinking of giving Xanadu a climber's helmet and making her the "welcome to Boulder" cat-- we could use the 10 mill! (Note that Tama also has two "assistants" for handling her cap wearing duties).
And from the land of the rising sun, where Paul and Mandy currently reside, is the tail (haha!) of Super Station Master Tama the cat. Apparently, Xanadu's Japanese cousin-kitty has raised over 10 million US dollars for tourists who come to visit her or buy any of her railroad themed merchandise.I'm thinking of giving Xanadu a climber's helmet and making her the "welcome to Boulder" cat-- we could use the 10 mill! (Note that Tama also has two "assistants" for handling her cap wearing duties).
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
As a registered Independent in a battle ground state, I'm getting inundated by massive media efforts to get me to vote Republican. Colorado is a bit of a political anomaly; traditionally "red" states are Bible belted, poorly educated, agricultural with low-income households in contrast to the more highly educated, diverse and progressive "blue" states. A recent article in our local paper noted that Colorado is a boon to red states because the metro areas--who are ironically, rabidly liberal--raise the overall statistics for wealth and education in the red states as a whole. Outside of the Denver/Boulder corridor, the rest of the voting state is comprised mostly of small farming and mining communities, with the exception of the military/religious outpost of Colorado Springs. There's usually just enough bias to turn red, though in recent elections our Governor and most recently elected senator are Democrats.
With Colorado leaning Democratic for the first time in years, the GOP is barraging Indy voters with pleas to give Republicans another 4 years running the show. I've been counting now and everyday I get 3-5 pieces of mail begging for my vote. The first few weeks, the messages were simple: family values (whatever that means), lower taxes, etc. As the desperation increases however, the message is getting downright nasty: Obama is a terrorist, liberal voters are going to hell with Satan, etc.
And the phone calls... ugh! Despite being registered on the no-call list, I get 5-10 calls a day from Republican computers urging me to vote McCain, blah blah. In fairness, I've gotten nothing from the Democrats in the mail and one call from an unaffiliated party urging me to vote early. I've been asked a few poll questions too, and I always hang up-- I wonder if they count that as "undecided" in their results?
The bottom line is that my vote will always go for the candidate that promises the most freedom, equality and opportunity for the most people. I also lean very strongly towards responsible environmental practices, improving domestic education and non-violent global policies. Easy enough.
Only one more week to go... I'm thinking of turning my phone off until November 5th.
Ah, it's good to be king--or at least that how it feels to receive a royalty check. After a great summer of book sales, I finally reaped the first reward from Best Summmit Hikes in Colrado. It was respectable money and it came at a good time, so hurray for the book being officially "in the black". The whole project technically began around September 2005 (when I got the contract and did the first hike of the book, Mount Alice) so I figure the hourly rate is about .00036 cents per hour.
Today is a busy work day so I can't dink around much on the blog, but a few quickies. I made it to the top of French Mountain (13,940 ft.)which is a good challenge in the pre-winter conditions (and fun 4x4ing in the 4Runner!) I also ordered a "blast from the past" PC game, Heroes of Might and Magic 3 complete. Even though the game is probably dated by modern standards, the 2000-era of strat-RPGs was a golden time and plus, I've never played any games in the "Heroes" series (and double plus, of course it was dirt cheap).
And also--I get to watch Mystic Weds-Friday this week while Sheila is away at a conference-- woo hoo! It'll be fun to romp around with my canine buddy.
For those of you following Ratchet the dog's story that I posted the other day, great news! Ratchet is movin' to Minnesota! Talk about your lucky dogs, this little guy was abandoned in a garbage heap in Iraq--not the best odds for having a full and fun doggy life. As of today, he's en route to his new home, where the soldier who rescued him will be returning in about a month. Watching the little movie from the BBC on the website I linked above, I can't help but be reminded of Mystic. If you want to read a few more animal tales of dogs and cats who beat the odds, check out Baghdad Pups.
In non-canine news, I got the thrill of three needles pushed through my shoulder for my cortisone injection on Friday. About 40 seconds into the 5 minute procedure, I learned why most people opt for anesthesia--having a needle pressed into the deepest part of your shoulder for any amount of time is not terribly comfortable. At one point I got a little dizzy as the sharp metal end punched through nerve and scar tissue but when all was said and done, I'm glad I saved the $$ by toughing it out. I do have mobility back and now it's just a matter of waiting for the shoulder to "unfreeze".
I had a minor book signing event Friday at the Telluride Film Fest in Golden, which was good times, though I couldn't stay all night thanks to the aforementioned shoulder. Got out n' about over the weekend, now I'm just waiting for the World Series to start--bummed the Sox got thumped but admittedly, I'm amazed they even made it to game 7.
With Colorado leaning Democratic for the first time in years, the GOP is barraging Indy voters with pleas to give Republicans another 4 years running the show. I've been counting now and everyday I get 3-5 pieces of mail begging for my vote. The first few weeks, the messages were simple: family values (whatever that means), lower taxes, etc. As the desperation increases however, the message is getting downright nasty: Obama is a terrorist, liberal voters are going to hell with Satan, etc.
And the phone calls... ugh! Despite being registered on the no-call list, I get 5-10 calls a day from Republican computers urging me to vote McCain, blah blah. In fairness, I've gotten nothing from the Democrats in the mail and one call from an unaffiliated party urging me to vote early. I've been asked a few poll questions too, and I always hang up-- I wonder if they count that as "undecided" in their results?
The bottom line is that my vote will always go for the candidate that promises the most freedom, equality and opportunity for the most people. I also lean very strongly towards responsible environmental practices, improving domestic education and non-violent global policies. Easy enough.
Only one more week to go... I'm thinking of turning my phone off until November 5th.
Monday, October 27, 2008
Ah, it's good to be king--or at least that how it feels to receive a royalty check. After a great summer of book sales, I finally reaped the first reward from Best Summmit Hikes in Colrado. It was respectable money and it came at a good time, so hurray for the book being officially "in the black". The whole project technically began around September 2005 (when I got the contract and did the first hike of the book, Mount Alice) so I figure the hourly rate is about .00036 cents per hour. Today is a busy work day so I can't dink around much on the blog, but a few quickies. I made it to the top of French Mountain (13,940 ft.)which is a good challenge in the pre-winter conditions (and fun 4x4ing in the 4Runner!) I also ordered a "blast from the past" PC game, Heroes of Might and Magic 3 complete. Even though the game is probably dated by modern standards, the 2000-era of strat-RPGs was a golden time and plus, I've never played any games in the "Heroes" series (and double plus, of course it was dirt cheap).
And also--I get to watch Mystic Weds-Friday this week while Sheila is away at a conference-- woo hoo! It'll be fun to romp around with my canine buddy.
Friday, October 24, 2008
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
For those of you following Ratchet the dog's story that I posted the other day, great news! Ratchet is movin' to Minnesota! Talk about your lucky dogs, this little guy was abandoned in a garbage heap in Iraq--not the best odds for having a full and fun doggy life. As of today, he's en route to his new home, where the soldier who rescued him will be returning in about a month. Watching the little movie from the BBC on the website I linked above, I can't help but be reminded of Mystic. If you want to read a few more animal tales of dogs and cats who beat the odds, check out Baghdad Pups. In non-canine news, I got the thrill of three needles pushed through my shoulder for my cortisone injection on Friday. About 40 seconds into the 5 minute procedure, I learned why most people opt for anesthesia--having a needle pressed into the deepest part of your shoulder for any amount of time is not terribly comfortable. At one point I got a little dizzy as the sharp metal end punched through nerve and scar tissue but when all was said and done, I'm glad I saved the $$ by toughing it out. I do have mobility back and now it's just a matter of waiting for the shoulder to "unfreeze".
I had a minor book signing event Friday at the Telluride Film Fest in Golden, which was good times, though I couldn't stay all night thanks to the aforementioned shoulder. Got out n' about over the weekend, now I'm just waiting for the World Series to start--bummed the Sox got thumped but admittedly, I'm amazed they even made it to game 7.
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Well, I got the good news/bad news on my shoulder injury today. The good news is that it isn't a rotator cuff tear and when healed, I should have close to 100% of my shoulder movement back. The bad news is that I have a frozen shoulder, most likely as the result of an ultimate frisbee injury in the summer that I decided to play through. The weird thing is the cause of a "frozen" shoulder is unknown, but the ultra-sucky part is the recovery time--anywhere between 5 month and 26 months! My doctor is optimistic though, I'll be closer to the 5 month period. Until then, no mtn biking (ugggghhh nooooo), volleyball, racquetball, bowling, etc. On the plus side, I can still hike (no climbing though) and probably still snowboard, though I'm taking my chances to some degree. In the years I've been riding, I've never taken a hard fall on the shoulder so I'll just have to be a bit more conservative.
The other big suck factor is that this could have been prevented--I went to a different Dr. in the spring who misdiagnosed it. At that stage, simple rest would have been the cure. Oh well. So the course of action now is to get a guided injection of cortisone (done under an X-ray machine, cool) and then lots of rest for the arm. I can still run and *probably* road bike a little but ping-pong is right out of the question.
The other big suck factor is that this could have been prevented--I went to a different Dr. in the spring who misdiagnosed it. At that stage, simple rest would have been the cure. Oh well. So the course of action now is to get a guided injection of cortisone (done under an X-ray machine, cool) and then lots of rest for the arm. I can still run and *probably* road bike a little but ping-pong is right out of the question.
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
Yup. this one got to me to (especially after writing my piece about the Greekies a while back). Read the story here about Ratchet, a puppy from Iraq that a US servicewoman is trying to adopt, but the government is blocking her from doing so. I signed the petition to save Ratchet, I hope he makes it to Minnesota!
Sunday, October 12, 2008
If you've been following the news, you may have heard that game designer Richard Garriott paid 35 million dollars to go into space as a civilian aboard a Russian Soyuz rocket. In my humble opinion, this is freakin' awesome! I've always been a big fan of Garriott as he created several classic video games of my youth, namely the world-famous Ultima series. My intro to the Ultima games was on the NES with Ultima: Exodus and Ultima: Quest of the Avatar. I later migrated to the PC games and enjoyed most of them as well.
But getting back to Richard, he's always seemed like the quintessential cool nerd (his Dad was astronaut Owen Garriott, which is also a bonus). Yeah, he wore jerkins and galligaskins and went around proclaiming himself Lord British, but he also remained engaged in the real world as well. From what I hear, he's actually a pretty nice dude as well and I wish him the best on his month about the International Space Station.
In other news, my cousin Marc has an interesting post here about the thought-provoking site of out-of-business gas stations. Out here in the west, it's not unusual to come across a remote station that was on the fringe of a long-lost boom town (a lot of mining in Colorado and Utah faded away in the 60's). One right out of the X-Files is the abandoned town of Cicso just over the Colorado border in Utah. One of the gas stations there still has a battered sign proclaimed 33 cents a gallon gasoline. Peeking in one day, I saw a handgun on the dusty, neglected counter of the extinct station--weird, eh? Closer to home, I've seen a lot of ghost gas stations with prices around $1.49, which I think went under sometime in 2001.
Speaking of Colorado, this was the third weekend in a row we've had lousy weather--so bad, I didn't get outside for much of anything other than a quick ride of Hall Ranch on Friday afternoon. Gettin' fat and watching sports isn't THAT bad, but it's not ideal either. And I may be doing more watching/fattening in the upcoming weeks. There's a very good (well, bad) chance that I've torn the rotator cuff on my right arm, evidence by the fact my fastball would probably clock about 18 mph right now. I had previously gone to a Dr. that misdiagnosed it as bursitis, thus my summer of ultimate frisbee, volleyball and other fun stuff may have making a bad situation even worse. Granted, in the scheme of things it's not the worst thing in the world but I really hope I don't need surgery. Having a feeble, old-man arm sucks but hopefully I'll have more news this week...
But getting back to Richard, he's always seemed like the quintessential cool nerd (his Dad was astronaut Owen Garriott, which is also a bonus). Yeah, he wore jerkins and galligaskins and went around proclaiming himself Lord British, but he also remained engaged in the real world as well. From what I hear, he's actually a pretty nice dude as well and I wish him the best on his month about the International Space Station.
In other news, my cousin Marc has an interesting post here about the thought-provoking site of out-of-business gas stations. Out here in the west, it's not unusual to come across a remote station that was on the fringe of a long-lost boom town (a lot of mining in Colorado and Utah faded away in the 60's). One right out of the X-Files is the abandoned town of Cicso just over the Colorado border in Utah. One of the gas stations there still has a battered sign proclaimed 33 cents a gallon gasoline. Peeking in one day, I saw a handgun on the dusty, neglected counter of the extinct station--weird, eh? Closer to home, I've seen a lot of ghost gas stations with prices around $1.49, which I think went under sometime in 2001.
Speaking of Colorado, this was the third weekend in a row we've had lousy weather--so bad, I didn't get outside for much of anything other than a quick ride of Hall Ranch on Friday afternoon. Gettin' fat and watching sports isn't THAT bad, but it's not ideal either. And I may be doing more watching/fattening in the upcoming weeks. There's a very good (well, bad) chance that I've torn the rotator cuff on my right arm, evidence by the fact my fastball would probably clock about 18 mph right now. I had previously gone to a Dr. that misdiagnosed it as bursitis, thus my summer of ultimate frisbee, volleyball and other fun stuff may have making a bad situation even worse. Granted, in the scheme of things it's not the worst thing in the world but I really hope I don't need surgery. Having a feeble, old-man arm sucks but hopefully I'll have more news this week...
Monday, October 06, 2008
Humboldt Peak is considered to be a modest 14er, topping out at 14,064 ft. With a good class 2 trail and amazing views of the Sangre De Cristo Range, it's also quite a good dog-worthy hike. While not technically demanding, the challenge is upped a bit when confronted with sustained winds probably in the 40-60 mph range (and gusts much stronger than that), not to mention the occasional "fog-out" that reduces visibility to a few feet in front of you.
A dog's fur is a great way to measure wind speed!
Despite forecasts projecting doom, gloom and snow in the Colorado mountains, Sheila, Mystic and I decided to stage a coup and try to ascend a 14er despite the weather warnings. The day ended up being cloudy and overcast but cool enough so that thunderstorms were unlikely, so we went for it.
The M-Man ready to roll.
The trailhead for Humboldt is reached via a burly 4x4 road and I'm proud to say my new 4Runner passed with flying colors. The hike from the base of the peak to the summit ridge was uneventful but beautiful, with stunning views of the fabled Crestone group of peaks: Crestone Needle, Crestone Peak and Broken Hand Mountain.
Sheila and Mystic on the lower trail.
As we gained the ridge, great sheets of fog blasted up the mountainside and dissolved into the morning sky. Winds blew strong and hard, occasionally pushing hikers off balance (though amazingly, the 40 lb. Mystic seemed unaffected by the gusts). Of the 8 people (and one dog) on the ridge, 6 of the others turned around (not a bad move) leaving only Sheila, Mystic and I to go for the summit.
Mystic and I on the summit! Note his horizontal ears. Believe it or not, I'm trying to smile but the wind is blowing my lips asunder. A dab of peanut butter on my cheek looks like a cool, tough-guy scar.
Mystic and I got to summit just a few minutes before Sheila, though neither of us could stay on top very long (thank goodness for the wind shelter).
Sheila leaning into the wind as she closes in on the summit.
Warming up in the wind shelter on the top of Humboldt Peak!
The descent was equally burly, with the unrelenting wind constantly bullying us as we tried to make good time before the big storms hit the area (snow and rain started to fall about an hour after we completed the hike). All in all it was an invigorating adventure and the elements turned a rather tame 14er into an exciting theater of fast-moving wisps of fog, ethereal light and enormous mountains that would vanish into the beltway of clouds, only to emerge for scant seconds in gaps of clarity.
Battling the wind on the descent.
I've said it before and I'll say it again: all weather is good weather!
Despite forecasts projecting doom, gloom and snow in the Colorado mountains, Sheila, Mystic and I decided to stage a coup and try to ascend a 14er despite the weather warnings. The day ended up being cloudy and overcast but cool enough so that thunderstorms were unlikely, so we went for it.
The trailhead for Humboldt is reached via a burly 4x4 road and I'm proud to say my new 4Runner passed with flying colors. The hike from the base of the peak to the summit ridge was uneventful but beautiful, with stunning views of the fabled Crestone group of peaks: Crestone Needle, Crestone Peak and Broken Hand Mountain.
As we gained the ridge, great sheets of fog blasted up the mountainside and dissolved into the morning sky. Winds blew strong and hard, occasionally pushing hikers off balance (though amazingly, the 40 lb. Mystic seemed unaffected by the gusts). Of the 8 people (and one dog) on the ridge, 6 of the others turned around (not a bad move) leaving only Sheila, Mystic and I to go for the summit.
Mystic and I got to summit just a few minutes before Sheila, though neither of us could stay on top very long (thank goodness for the wind shelter).
The descent was equally burly, with the unrelenting wind constantly bullying us as we tried to make good time before the big storms hit the area (snow and rain started to fall about an hour after we completed the hike). All in all it was an invigorating adventure and the elements turned a rather tame 14er into an exciting theater of fast-moving wisps of fog, ethereal light and enormous mountains that would vanish into the beltway of clouds, only to emerge for scant seconds in gaps of clarity.
I've said it before and I'll say it again: all weather is good weather!
Friday, October 03, 2008
Those of you who remember original party animal Spuds MacKenzie may recall one particular commercial where Spuds is dressed in ski gear while hanging out near a hot tub in Aspen, Vail or a studio lot in Van Nuys, California. Eventually, Spuds' owner comes along and slips right into the aforementioned hot tub with nary a hesitation, most likely because the alcohol in his system prevents him from feeling the full impact of 30,000 blood vessels exploding just under the surface of his skin. I must admit, I am amazed and perhaps a bit envious how people can just get into hot tubs like that. Perhaps I'm wired specifically for cold water immersion, since that never bothers me, but the bigger picture is this: I stink at relaxing.
Or at least conventional relaxing. Hot tubs top the list; the steamy 104-degree cauldrons of sebaceous human run-off might as well be the giant black pot in which natives regularly try to boil Bugs Bunny. If I'm lucky, I can stick around for upwards of 2 minutes in one sitting (my personal world record) before my internal core temperature reaches 275 degrees Fahrenheit and the silver fillings start melting out of my teeth. Even when sitting in mere swim trunks with only ankles submerged in the water, even on a snowy night, I'm doomed to be more concerned with stuffing snow down my shorts to cool off than the hip conversation within the tub about the ski day, the latest sports teams or whatever the heck people talk about in hot tubs (I never last long enough to find out).
Massages are yet another area where I suck. It always starts off with the masseuse advising me to undress "as much as I feel comfortable" as she slips out of the room. I often wonder if I should take this literally and put MORE clothes on. I also never know where to put my discarded clothes, which makes me wonder if I'm committing a major faux-pas. I decide to just keep them under the covers with me.
The next phase is pressing your face into the droolproof donut-shaped face pillow thing and waiting for the masseuse to creep back into the room. I've had several massages where my face was pressed so tightly into the donut, I had double vision for upwards of one hour (note that I often have a mandatory massage for my work trips). While trying to focus on not drooling, I'm alerted to the return of my poor massager by the slurpy symphony of lotion and hands and the "transcendent" sounds of CDs with names like Oxygene, Gentle Rain, The Passion of Yanni, Nitrogene, Carbone Dioxide, Ground Penetrating Hail, and so on.
The absolute worst part of any massage is when the masseuse demandingly tells me to relax. Instantly I feel like massage loser and there's really nothing I can do about it--someone berating me to relax makes me tense. She might as well have said "make your fingers longer" or "rapidly turn into a seagull" and gotten the same results. And of course, now it's MY fault pressing into the knotty bundles of nerve and muscle hurts and every time I wince, I'm chastised with another "relax". Soon tears of pain are blending in with the puddle of drool on the floor through the face pillow.
Equally as bad is when the poor woman must confront my feet. Thousands of hiking miles have rendered them to resemble armadillos more than walking appendages; the twisted and oft-broken toes slightly resemble smaller versions of alleged bigfoot prints captured in plaster of paris. Oftentimes the massage progresses beyond the feet and I get freaked out tjhat hands that had to overcome the ordeal of feet are now rubbing more tender parts of my body, such as each individual high-strung wire in my hamstrings.
Eventually the whole nightmare ends and I have to find something relaxing to shake off the tension, like playing Super Mario Bros 3 while eating an onion and anchovy pizza. Maybe I should take a cue from Spuds and sport a Hawaiian shirt, throw on a pair of Oakleys and watch people much cooler than myself cavort in hot tubs.
Or at least conventional relaxing. Hot tubs top the list; the steamy 104-degree cauldrons of sebaceous human run-off might as well be the giant black pot in which natives regularly try to boil Bugs Bunny. If I'm lucky, I can stick around for upwards of 2 minutes in one sitting (my personal world record) before my internal core temperature reaches 275 degrees Fahrenheit and the silver fillings start melting out of my teeth. Even when sitting in mere swim trunks with only ankles submerged in the water, even on a snowy night, I'm doomed to be more concerned with stuffing snow down my shorts to cool off than the hip conversation within the tub about the ski day, the latest sports teams or whatever the heck people talk about in hot tubs (I never last long enough to find out).
Massages are yet another area where I suck. It always starts off with the masseuse advising me to undress "as much as I feel comfortable" as she slips out of the room. I often wonder if I should take this literally and put MORE clothes on. I also never know where to put my discarded clothes, which makes me wonder if I'm committing a major faux-pas. I decide to just keep them under the covers with me.
The next phase is pressing your face into the droolproof donut-shaped face pillow thing and waiting for the masseuse to creep back into the room. I've had several massages where my face was pressed so tightly into the donut, I had double vision for upwards of one hour (note that I often have a mandatory massage for my work trips). While trying to focus on not drooling, I'm alerted to the return of my poor massager by the slurpy symphony of lotion and hands and the "transcendent" sounds of CDs with names like Oxygene, Gentle Rain, The Passion of Yanni, Nitrogene, Carbone Dioxide, Ground Penetrating Hail, and so on.
The absolute worst part of any massage is when the masseuse demandingly tells me to relax. Instantly I feel like massage loser and there's really nothing I can do about it--someone berating me to relax makes me tense. She might as well have said "make your fingers longer" or "rapidly turn into a seagull" and gotten the same results. And of course, now it's MY fault pressing into the knotty bundles of nerve and muscle hurts and every time I wince, I'm chastised with another "relax". Soon tears of pain are blending in with the puddle of drool on the floor through the face pillow.
Equally as bad is when the poor woman must confront my feet. Thousands of hiking miles have rendered them to resemble armadillos more than walking appendages; the twisted and oft-broken toes slightly resemble smaller versions of alleged bigfoot prints captured in plaster of paris. Oftentimes the massage progresses beyond the feet and I get freaked out tjhat hands that had to overcome the ordeal of feet are now rubbing more tender parts of my body, such as each individual high-strung wire in my hamstrings.
Eventually the whole nightmare ends and I have to find something relaxing to shake off the tension, like playing Super Mario Bros 3 while eating an onion and anchovy pizza. Maybe I should take a cue from Spuds and sport a Hawaiian shirt, throw on a pair of Oakleys and watch people much cooler than myself cavort in hot tubs.
Wednesday, October 01, 2008
Courtesy of Eric, both are from "The Ribbon" trail.
