tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-75677484198555491772024-03-17T13:11:35.387-05:00Sonic Death Monkey!We're no longer called Sonic Death Monkey. We're on the verge of becoming Kathleen Turner Overdrive, but just for tonight, we are Danny Jive and his Uptown Five.Djs9pdhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02943568496259216137noreply@blogger.comBlogger591125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7567748419855549177.post-28900075199383483932024-03-17T13:11:00.000-05:002024-03-17T13:11:00.592-05:00True/False 2024<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdj99idgpX8aVndY237xvPrLqFoxr2i9BOhPt6SUwzX0j54jJqYplloTdipsf4VFszax4L92wDMwsRGb2n5VLiUt6kAFBNjNT4kVFNFI7vJHp0SJe5O41ykeXB4YDBfj0ZDw7JbNJ_rBpb9230PAcfPdsEMML5x2SR-JQuuTxlhAWxeFnvLw0qBSLkGbZj/s4080/PXL_20240229_221656565.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdj99idgpX8aVndY237xvPrLqFoxr2i9BOhPt6SUwzX0j54jJqYplloTdipsf4VFszax4L92wDMwsRGb2n5VLiUt6kAFBNjNT4kVFNFI7vJHp0SJe5O41ykeXB4YDBfj0ZDw7JbNJ_rBpb9230PAcfPdsEMML5x2SR-JQuuTxlhAWxeFnvLw0qBSLkGbZj/s320/PXL_20240229_221656565.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>True False this year was a real banger. Everything we saw was something special. <p></p><p>Usually Sallie and I are bumping shoulder to shoulder, trying to get a spot at Top 10 Wines or Flatbranch, but the festival admittedly didn't feel as attended as it did in past years, which is great for me, more room at the theater and in the restaurants. But it does make me worry about the future of the festival. </p><p>Weather is always a question at True/False. We've been there for two blizzards. We're talking over a foot of snow. We've been there for tornados. We've been there for the most perfect spring weather. This year was a bit of a mix. It was really warm during the day, sort of cold at night, and rain seemed to be looming constantly. </p><span><a name='more'></a></span><p><b>Girls State</b> was a look into a cult-like ra-ra America conference for Missouri youth, where they theoretically will practice democracy and try coming up with a functional government in a week. The documentary took a swing I didn't expect, but it's worth seeing, if not only to know what high-schoolers are thinking about today. (At least from the girls side, it's mostly bodily autonomy and abortion rights)</p><p>A sibling documentary came out a few years ago called Boys State where it focuses more on the boys side of this program. I found the girls side to be more interesting. </p><p><b>Sperm World</b> is one that is still under embargo. I'm not a professional journalist, but just to keep things under wraps, I won't say much about the movie other than it wasn't what I thought it would be and I really didn't like the subjects. Left this one feeling 7 shades of ick.</p><p><b></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEik0eB_nw_NxVZ7Ef3zj_pYg1rGmo3K6mBRegBkD2Te3NmSANG97gv2MQ9_2ARU8mOvz6CFOs5l9-Qtf68XOZa43DoKuL94Ctd5AzdIznCLbvNP5eftAl7dNDyksh15ppkTt6WW2_OWpvuqH7VdR39gnnWfCuiR1kgaX-j4q_eKF4Y_m2TLeDgeXIZKa5aJ" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEik0eB_nw_NxVZ7Ef3zj_pYg1rGmo3K6mBRegBkD2Te3NmSANG97gv2MQ9_2ARU8mOvz6CFOs5l9-Qtf68XOZa43DoKuL94Ctd5AzdIznCLbvNP5eftAl7dNDyksh15ppkTt6WW2_OWpvuqH7VdR39gnnWfCuiR1kgaX-j4q_eKF4Y_m2TLeDgeXIZKa5aJ" width="320" /></a></b></div><b><br />This is Going to Be Big</b> this is one of the most heartwarming movies I've seen. An Australian school for neurodivergent teens puts on a play about John Farnham and watching these kids traverse difficulties and overcome together is just great. The kids are funny, they are caring, you can't help but root for them. <p></p><p><b>Union</b> reinforces how corrupt of a company Amazon is. This is a film about New York warehouse workers trying to unionize. They are overworked, in dangerous conditions, for little pay. Anytime they report these situations, people are fired for false reasons. </p><p>A group of workers are trying to get the warehouse to unionize so that they have power to push back on Amazon. Amazon brings in strike busters to try and convince those still working at the warehouse that they will lose money and power if they join a union. It's irritating, every step of the way. </p><p>I'll be cancelling my Prime Membership once again. </p><p><b>I Like It Here </b>was a film that I was worried would send me into an existential crisis. It's the story of a film maker coming to terms with the end of his life. He's ultimately not ready to die. He's still having fun. It actually was uplifting because you're seeing someone in their late 80s, living life as if they were still in their 50s. It reinforced how much life I potentially have left. </p><p>Every year at True/False, there's at least one movie that makes me weep openly in the theater. This year <b>Ibelin</b> took that award. Ibelin is about a Norwegian gamer who dies of a muscular degenerative disease by the time he's 25. As his parents prepare for his funeral, they found out Mats had an entire life within World of Warcraft. He had friends, he was a bit of a womanizer, he would run miles in the game daily. And as his friends start appearing in the film in real life, you start to realize the power of these virtual worlds. </p><p><b>Alien Island</b> seemed like an interesting documentary about UFO sightings in Chile. It was radio and cassette tapes stitched together to tell a story about several small villages that were all seeing the strange occurrences. Unfortunately, we were at a venue without arena seating and the subtitles were a little too low to actually read them. On top of that, it was damn near 80 degrees in there. So we left about 20 minutes in. </p><p><b>Seeking Mavis Beacon</b> was a bit of a disappointment. I used Mavis Beacon in school and always had this professional woman of color staring back at me. I had assumed that was Mavis Beacon. Turns out, it was just a model that the software developers found at a department store. The film tracks down the model, but unfortunately you never get the payoff of meeting her. </p><p><b>Boys</b> was a nice slice of life to leave the festival on. It's about a group of 20 year old's in Germany and follows them around to parties, clubs, where they talk about love and video games. </p>Djs9pdhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02943568496259216137noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7567748419855549177.post-88536185298401616012024-01-08T13:55:00.003-06:002024-01-08T13:57:09.991-06:00Top Movies of the Year<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj5p0_ql2cjFqjmmKUfHG9fYq5Bjq7l5GZB2gWveVA2z5nz6-_WGcKr4DbzMSYqgZqwmdv54w1veTy8l5YyyWrxDFo-9IdurblOqblTPSRA-9o_eLBAkE_aKc2f-1trC00Mgd5TIRjdbM_mXULc9YoHiHgS1v8t4WnFNwpQTOLi-q1sG_-PGsa_q6Rc5fYm" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2322" data-original-width="4128" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj5p0_ql2cjFqjmmKUfHG9fYq5Bjq7l5GZB2gWveVA2z5nz6-_WGcKr4DbzMSYqgZqwmdv54w1veTy8l5YyyWrxDFo-9IdurblOqblTPSRA-9o_eLBAkE_aKc2f-1trC00Mgd5TIRjdbM_mXULc9YoHiHgS1v8t4WnFNwpQTOLi-q1sG_-PGsa_q6Rc5fYm" width="320" /></a></div><br />As temperatures are more regularly pushing against 100+ degrees in St. Louis, Sal and I have been looking for ways to be in buildings with air conditioning instead of sitting at home and running ours hard. <p></p><p>We got a movie pass with Alamo Drafthouse this past summer. Every month, we pay about $18 a person to see unlimited movies. If you see two movies, it's paid for itself. </p><p>Separate from Alamo, I had a goal to try and see an average of a movie a day in 2023, and I was able to hit that mark on December 28th. Three days before I had to. I was flipping through the stats and realized that this year was an incredible year for movies. It felt like things finally were back on track post Covid. </p><p>Here are my top movies of 2023. </p><span><a name='more'></a></span><p><b>20. Champions</b>: Woody Harrelson has got to be one of my favorite actors. This is sort of a "Mighty Ducks" situation where a guy is punished by getting put in charge of a bad basketball team and has to work with them. Real heartwarming and uplifting story.</p><p><b>19. The Hunger Games: The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes</b>: Did this one need to happen? No, not really. Did they make a film that stands on it's own and doesn't feel like a cash grab? (Cough, Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, cough) Yes, actually. I think this movie gives some interesting meat to the backstory of the Hunger Games universe. </p><p><b>18. Bad Press:</b> This was one of my favorite documentaries from True/False this year. Small newspaper on a Native American reservation starts looking into shady politics happening in the community. The story on it's own is intriguing, but the protagonist is such a foul mouthed, endearing person, that she really carries you through the entire thing. </p><p><b>17. Dungeons and Dragons: Honor Among Thieves:</b> I didn't expect this to be such a fun film. Lot's of great jokes and they manage to capture the chaos of a tabletop game. </p><p><b>16. Dream Scenario: </b> Mass populations of people start dreaming of Paul Matthews (Nic Cage's character) even if they've never met him. He becomes somewhat famous out of this phenomenon. But soon he starts interacting with people who he's had sex with or tried to murder in their dreams and things get weird. Cage is just given free reign to spread his wings and do Nic Cage things. </p><p><b>15. Hell House Origins:</b> The Hell House series is a fantastic paranormal franchise. They did a trilogy that ended in a way where there's not a clean cut way forward. Instead, they went backward to start giving you information on why there are so many spooks in the area. Terrifying clowns, ghosts, missing friends make this worth a watch.</p><p><b>14. Napoleon:</b> Napoleon was really fun to see in theaters. It's been a long time since I've seen a movie on the big screen with the sprawling battle scenes. Screenplay is funny, pokes fun at Napoleon rather than worship him. Some pizazz was missing. I can't really put my finger on it and it might just be the sheer amount of epics this year that knocked this down the list. </p><p><b>13. The Pope's Exorcist:</b> Russel Crowe is hilarious in what should be a weighty movie about a priest fighting a demon. It's sort of nice to get the levity from the main character not being too serious. It especially made The Exorcist: Believer look like an amateur's possession movie. </p><p><b>12. Bottoms</b>: Bottoms was hilarious. Essentially Fight Club for high-school women trying to date each other. I didn't expect it to go so far into the absurd, but the characters play it like these are all normal things that happen in real life. Marshawn Lynch is fantastic and should be used in film more often. </p><p><b>11. Saltburn:</b> I thought Saltburn was going to be a class war story. A battle between the rich and not. This movie was not that at all and I couldn't predict what was going to happen from one scene to another. Part Talented Mr. Ripley, part Cruel Intentions, and part American Psycho. I don't know that this is for everyone, but I loved it.</p><h3 style="text-align: left;">10. Red Herring</h3><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj4t5pNEW2e2rWJE65Q1kL_OiClFdyDWY2fvGt5zHPGkHANcFLGP7OvQAANcp-0z1gtW8iP9mudvEjlmvoRRXUxZ-5eKMg5ONeWghTYHzfOLpqM916UxzJqgmGhaozqVN9nYWjBPOEfvY9ZOhakt2TJdW2BwrvuaeShyi9-XrbbtOPb0adgoUJ519U9Ae52" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="418" data-original-width="395" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj4t5pNEW2e2rWJE65Q1kL_OiClFdyDWY2fvGt5zHPGkHANcFLGP7OvQAANcp-0z1gtW8iP9mudvEjlmvoRRXUxZ-5eKMg5ONeWghTYHzfOLpqM916UxzJqgmGhaozqVN9nYWjBPOEfvY9ZOhakt2TJdW2BwrvuaeShyi9-XrbbtOPb0adgoUJ519U9Ae52" width="227" /></a></div><br />Red Herring is probably one of the most emotionally charged experiences I've ever had in a movie theater. I laughed, I cried, and I left thinking about life and death. <p></p><p>By the end, you feel like you are friends with this fantastic person and start the grieving process for someone you've never met in real life. And then we had the pleasure of the main subject and director, Kit, being there in person for a Q&A. </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><h3 style="text-align: left;">9. Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny</h3><h3><p style="font-size: medium; font-weight: 400;">There was a time where I liked Indiana Jones more than Star Wars. Unfortunately, Kingdom of the Crystal Skull so thoroughly tempered that love, that I had a real low bar going into the fifth Indiana Jones film. </p><p style="font-size: medium; font-weight: 400;">Folks... they did it. They pulled off a good Indiana Jones movie 15 years after the movie where people said Harrison Ford was already too old for. </p><p style="font-size: medium; font-weight: 400;">This was a love letter to what made Raiders and Last Crusade great. Travel all over the globe, Nazis getting punched, a fun opening scene that doesn't directly have something to do with the McGuffin of the film. </p><p style="font-size: medium; font-weight: 400;">Indy is believable in his age and what he does. The side characters are full of heart and capable. They aren't relying on Indy to get them out of every situation. They even do that weird de-aging thing and it looks good. You get to see a 35 year old Indiana Jones punching Nazis again. </p><p style="font-size: medium; font-weight: 400;">I'm almost scared to watch it again to find that my initial experience wasn't true and was a side effect of having a few beers with a buddy. </p></h3><h3 style="text-align: left;">8. Theater Camp</h3><div><div class="separator" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjjLB0s1z0NMj4_q03po1g_FeTlK09vJN76algYUW30MSKYONDl7JgxDb3TGRzDCPeVg8FecE3iA1-5Kql_6PmE_LYkFD_VrCw_QXwvikTFg3gh8whBUXyF7nvCtjlvAYD3TNh1Iuw5rh-olywfEtjnyMOV8TEIU_ytfGJJ3xMK-k6gdC7B7DIC611Co3rz" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="387" data-original-width="813" height="152" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjjLB0s1z0NMj4_q03po1g_FeTlK09vJN76algYUW30MSKYONDl7JgxDb3TGRzDCPeVg8FecE3iA1-5Kql_6PmE_LYkFD_VrCw_QXwvikTFg3gh8whBUXyF7nvCtjlvAYD3TNh1Iuw5rh-olywfEtjnyMOV8TEIU_ytfGJJ3xMK-k6gdC7B7DIC611Co3rz" width="320" /></a></div><br />Theater Camp starts off as a Christopher Guest style Mockumentary. Soon the characters stop talking to the camera, which makes you forget this is a fake documentary, and you start to think this is real life. </div><div><br /></div><div>The theater camp is struggling financially and something happens to the owner who always manages to pull off funding. It's a story about unlikely people trying to save something they love. It being a theater camp gives free reign for have really out there personalities.</div><div><br /></div><div>I loved how positive the movie was and how everyone came together. </div><div><br /></div><div>And what a hell of a run Ayo Edebiri has having. Give me more Ayo!</div><h3 style="text-align: left;">7. The Holdovers</h3><div>The Holdovers is based on students who have no where to go during the Christmas holidays. It takes place at a boarding school where Paul Giamatti's curmudgeon teacher has to take care of these students. </div><div><br /></div><div>The character development and growth is so perfect in these short two hours. I figured I'd like this, but didn't expect it to become one of my regular holiday watches. This feels like The Family Stone where we'll put it on yearly. </div><h3 style="text-align: left;">6. Barbie</h3><div>Barbie had me feeling weird about being at the theater. (I had to sit alone and was surrounded by mother/daughter combos), but I loved it. </div><div><br /></div><div>The set design and clothes were spot on. I remembered so much from playing Barbie's with the next door neighbors in the early 90s. </div><div><br /></div><div>I loved Ken's ridiculous transition into the patriarchy because it worked in the absurdity already established in Barbie world. I loved that the movie was able to poke fun at the parent company, something a lot of companies don't have the guts to do. </div><div><br /></div><div>And not that everything needs to be a franchise, but the movie leaves open solving other "Barbie" problems. </div><h3 style="text-align: left;">5. Killer's of the Flower Moon</h3><p>I saw this twice in theaters within a couple days. I had to keep reminding myself that this was based off of real people and real events, otherwise you feel unfulfilled by Leonardo DiCaprio's character arc. You keep saying, "There's no way someone would act this way." Yet they did. </p><p>It was also wild seeing so much familiar backdrop as Sal and I were in the Tulsa area just last year. </p><p>Now I put this squarely in the middle of Scorsese's films as far as enjoyment, which sounds like a slight, but it's Scorsese. It's hard to beat things like Taxi Driver, Raging Bull, Good Fellas, Gangs of New York, The Departed, The Wolf of Wallstreet... I mean you get it. Guy puts out mostly bangers. </p><h3 style="text-align: left;">4. Asteroid City</h3><div><div class="separator" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi4QUvqHFhan0zq0EloFwTB00Skur2ogTyTwYNpXyrAJAlj9_wEpcH6RrNAItyF-dh9hC7dVSWbzcxrblASuq9LMH7QjFRKCjfPxUBvGxZkI8kV4zfo4PpnBMamGhNhZ-UnDvAFdV7zxBZci-C8bwK2wcPN-8YBm65DW7DWg_y0rTlXKrzJW91t0jjPOODM" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="416" data-original-width="837" height="159" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi4QUvqHFhan0zq0EloFwTB00Skur2ogTyTwYNpXyrAJAlj9_wEpcH6RrNAItyF-dh9hC7dVSWbzcxrblASuq9LMH7QjFRKCjfPxUBvGxZkI8kV4zfo4PpnBMamGhNhZ-UnDvAFdV7zxBZci-C8bwK2wcPN-8YBm65DW7DWg_y0rTlXKrzJW91t0jjPOODM" width="320" /></a></div><br />I love Wes Andersen. His way of having absurd characters exist in the real world is rich for comedy. His aesthetic pops when everyone else is going with muted Earth tones, Wes goes for bright colors inspired by 60s pop art. Even in this movie, which takes place in the dessert with nothing but muted Earth tones, Andersen pops color. </div><div><br /></div><div>Asteroid City takes place in a fictional Roswell, New Mexico type area. Huge asteroid dots the land and aliens are constantly spotted. What happens when a bunch of people visiting Asteroid City see an alien? What would be the government protocol?</div><div><br /></div><div>And then it gets really meta and the lines between a story and art blur. </div><h3 style="text-align: left;">3. The Iron Claw</h3><div>I intimately know the story of the Von Erich family and their tragedies. I went into this movie knowing it was going to be one of the saddest things ever put to film. Yet, I was not prepared for the amount of tears I'd have in the theater. </div><div><br /></div><div>About 30 minutes into the movie, we get our second tragedy and a girl behind us said, "Oh god." And all I could think of were the half dozen other things she was about to experience. </div><div><br /></div><div>The Iron Claw is mostly a story about a tight knit family that just happen to wrestle. Really, the only thing holding this back from number one is you get a dollar store Ric Flair. If you don't know who Ric Flair is, you might be OK. But I do, and I know the promos being referenced, and they just weren't good. </div><h3 style="text-align: left;">2. Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse</h3><div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjt6detN-7PW5r4cXBXAbxdU9tastnI4x06Ttw4wbf2thq32LcVXZ5qW75xcqJKfR2L4SUrkaKDP8sahSeSgM3VifSJwpc7TDYkw2kcvOslHOSBwV0gObIjID0Z_EUN_ASpAdaWm9SWN_-9TWVhRDJPur_hMZnYT6yphKoBAKxIO_QaH73F8NRstgecxNqN" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="351" data-original-width="559" height="201" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjt6detN-7PW5r4cXBXAbxdU9tastnI4x06Ttw4wbf2thq32LcVXZ5qW75xcqJKfR2L4SUrkaKDP8sahSeSgM3VifSJwpc7TDYkw2kcvOslHOSBwV0gObIjID0Z_EUN_ASpAdaWm9SWN_-9TWVhRDJPur_hMZnYT6yphKoBAKxIO_QaH73F8NRstgecxNqN" width="320" /></a></div><br />Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse came out in 2018 and it was such a beautifully crafted human story. Lot's of tears, lots of laughs, cool animation. It was a superhero movie for people that don't care about superheroes. <p></p><p>Across the Spider-Verse continues that. Being Spider-Man is second fiddle to the trials you face in life. Young love, loss of loved ones, finding your identity. </p><p>It was great. It had all of the charm of the first one. </p><p>Weirdly, the server at Alamo warned everyone that there weren't after credit scenes. I was thankful for the heads up, but I realized why this deserved that warning when other Marvel movies do not. It ends on an all time cliff hanger and very abruptly. I for sure thought the credits were going to wrap the story going on. </p></div><h3 style="text-align: left;">1. Oppenheimer</h3><p>Math nerds doing patriotic stuff. There's nothing about this I should care about, but the entire crew did a fantastic job of making this a very human movie. </p><p>I especially loved the fragility of egos. Everyone that thinks they are the best at some point gets checked. </p><p>This was especially a treat seeing it on an IMAX screen. The atom bomb blast rattled my lungs. It was truly awe inspiring and we didn't even see the real blast. </p><p>It's incredible how much power and resources our government is willing to put behind a weapon race when there are so many other things that would benefit all of American with this same sort of push. I don't know that we will ever see another concerted effort of so many resources and minds again unless there's an asteroid headed our way. </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Djs9pdhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02943568496259216137noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7567748419855549177.post-37394871722260242482023-10-26T16:13:00.001-05:002023-10-26T16:13:23.308-05:00Viva Las Vegas<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhTVWPKhqtCJhuOtFzyzf_ywefgnEs_mjW38LCfvAZSFw1Z4QI8Sy3yDH0xqW1owuhzlo0bwAoPzwF9t5u4PBCFyj9Eny7ipo2v-x743KVaHsFadmQrYQmOsFDUizqSXxam0TjyeZOcgg7IOFjNssxRgM2C-ALhYok4kTHZSZ38OjUYeXzuIe9d___V4sXw" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="931" data-original-width="1236" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhTVWPKhqtCJhuOtFzyzf_ywefgnEs_mjW38LCfvAZSFw1Z4QI8Sy3yDH0xqW1owuhzlo0bwAoPzwF9t5u4PBCFyj9Eny7ipo2v-x743KVaHsFadmQrYQmOsFDUizqSXxam0TjyeZOcgg7IOFjNssxRgM2C-ALhYok4kTHZSZ38OjUYeXzuIe9d___V4sXw" width="319" /></a></div>In the dead center of the American desert, there stands a testament to mans arrogance against God. Hotels compete to reach heaven, blasting your eyes with lights and stimulation. <p></p><p>Where you should only find mountains and scorpions, there's giant fountains spraying water several stories into the air. </p><p>Where there should be cactuses, slot machines. </p><p>We've imported some of the world's most famous monuments, just to have them in one spot.</p><p>The marketing "what happens in Vegas" calls to people's terrible intentions. Everyone wants to live out The Hangover or Bachelor Party. Do a little coke and party with Mike Tyson. </p><span><a name='more'></a></span><p>People come here to destroy themselves, whether from the city never sleeping, or the amount of booze around every corner. You can't take 10 steps without seeing some bleary eyed husk of a human, pressing a button on a virtual slot machine, smoking their 8th cigarette and sipping on a whiskey coke to stay awake. </p><p>This city is meant to hit every synapse in your brain that makes you want to keep going. Keep putting money in the machine. Have another beer. Go eat your 6th steak of the week. </p><p>And in some weird way, I love this abomination... but not in the way most people do. </p><p>Best way I can describe the Vegas I saw, is Star Wars. </p><p>You know how every planet in Star Wars sort of has a theme. Here's your ice planet, your dessert planet, here's the big city planet, etc. Well this is like the casino planet. When you're there, you forget the rest of the world exists. The bright flashing lights, loud sounds, and humanity should trigger your anxiety, but it doesn't. Instead your brain takes it all in and you wander around with a smile on your face. </p><p>This place was built by Mobsters. It's still run by criminals. And it's built to temporarily turn you into another person. </p><p>You pay a tax for this adult playground. Everywhere. I thought to myself, wow, the flight and hotel actually weren't that bad. </p><p>You walk 10 feet through the casino, get a $13 beer, walk another 10 feet, throw $5 in the slot machine, you get hungry, time to eat a $17 sandwich. Dinner comes and expect the bill to land somewhere in the $100-150 a person range. </p><p>We were in Las Vegas for 3 nights and 4 days and spent almost as much as we did when we were in Hawaii for 10 days. </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0 0 0 40px; padding: 0px;"><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhEt2sSqCO33UM3RYCxk5LxfGAZ2XDt2KIuFPcNtu57yIXq2RPt5yBPy2sHt16jGQRbaPU4vU4WSTw1h4RgPM2k_gp6YWT7QfWSPRyCtVXt6VGDuVSwYvh2GpcZCjzw-HuwjFcJMxpeU7Tupcv5d3205qlDPvoKy5G1BMSLHe1tEFiPg73Ss5tE8NFfK4en" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="931" data-original-width="1236" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhEt2sSqCO33UM3RYCxk5LxfGAZ2XDt2KIuFPcNtu57yIXq2RPt5yBPy2sHt16jGQRbaPU4vU4WSTw1h4RgPM2k_gp6YWT7QfWSPRyCtVXt6VGDuVSwYvh2GpcZCjzw-HuwjFcJMxpeU7Tupcv5d3205qlDPvoKy5G1BMSLHe1tEFiPg73Ss5tE8NFfK4en" width="319" /></a></div><p></p></blockquote><p>We went to Vegas to see Lady Gaga's last night doing her jazz piano big band show. Was fantastic. She sang a couple of her songs on the piano but mostly stayed with Vegas classics like Sinatra and Newton. At one point she dedicated "Fly Me To the Moon" to her friend Tony Bennet who passed away a few years ago. He used to do this show with her. </p><p>About two-thirds of the way through she put her microphone down and just sang to the room. Incredible how she commanded everyone to scoot forward on their seat, wanting to take in every breath. Not a single dry face in the room. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/4zqkgp6uBdU" width="320" youtube-src-id="4zqkgp6uBdU"></iframe></div><p></p><p>Other than that, had one of the best meals of my life at the NoMad Library in the MGM Park. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj9MD4VcWOqjVLUCRGpzEahZFUjENSks0fUwg8PSAP64DArgb1JeQic4DO41mnozubbiJwuj1CsRN7E0hBvnpul-B93R3D4t0meqnC6WdvjMeQ3wlZemrApQH5XeBcjRE5RysihTjGar1xMdbj1VbwjvueL74GqkUPG7iEvB7BZZ5_M4_UL2xFLiH4LJCva" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="931" data-original-width="1236" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj9MD4VcWOqjVLUCRGpzEahZFUjENSks0fUwg8PSAP64DArgb1JeQic4DO41mnozubbiJwuj1CsRN7E0hBvnpul-B93R3D4t0meqnC6WdvjMeQ3wlZemrApQH5XeBcjRE5RysihTjGar1xMdbj1VbwjvueL74GqkUPG7iEvB7BZZ5_M4_UL2xFLiH4LJCva" width="319" /></a></div><br /><br /><p></p><p>Went to one of the coolest dive bars I've ever been to in Atomic Liquors. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEizu-T6v8cr3g0HZXEokZRGDJM-ueKvimhKekN4_iZXTGZ5YzMEn-vI5bwy5mPRIbOFjgbHSFRNfqQ8ciMIxMEqC84qjSbnMMKbRx_ZjqKIVFpTUUYYqbbPn5RsshCIi1sZw4bl_0j3suLpRKlzIljTWw36NksD2vmZp1wF5ueQUK-SPWRH7iZqy2XW9M3b" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="931" data-original-width="1236" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEizu-T6v8cr3g0HZXEokZRGDJM-ueKvimhKekN4_iZXTGZ5YzMEn-vI5bwy5mPRIbOFjgbHSFRNfqQ8ciMIxMEqC84qjSbnMMKbRx_ZjqKIVFpTUUYYqbbPn5RsshCIi1sZw4bl_0j3suLpRKlzIljTWw36NksD2vmZp1wF5ueQUK-SPWRH7iZqy2XW9M3b" width="319" /></a></div><br /><br /><p></p><p>Of course hit up several Anthony Bourdain recommendations in eat. (and Atomic Liquors which had a Bourdain shrine). </p><p>And bounced around a few breweries where we were directed to a local's dive bar that was horror themed and in fact, did rule. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgMfol0MazE-5U5CoU8EMgtNPHB8qs48P79MhIxNykWZ7BBR05i5v7KbzFo1IefnJZrh9UjuCSycodIkgvkwHAjsPhQF34ImjFtiJBOB7i70q2sLhEonLLMN3mMhbfx3N1ZBtYjNt96tZW6gQUrexIIowdYW-JqBA_g63bw72KQoaYBRouJdV4qoa_GXNIp" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="931" data-original-width="1236" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgMfol0MazE-5U5CoU8EMgtNPHB8qs48P79MhIxNykWZ7BBR05i5v7KbzFo1IefnJZrh9UjuCSycodIkgvkwHAjsPhQF34ImjFtiJBOB7i70q2sLhEonLLMN3mMhbfx3N1ZBtYjNt96tZW6gQUrexIIowdYW-JqBA_g63bw72KQoaYBRouJdV4qoa_GXNIp" width="319" /></a></div><br /><br /><p></p><p>All in all, would go back. But like a lot of people have said, your brain is sort of drained on that forth day. I don't know that anyone needs to be in Vegas for more than that. </p>Djs9pdhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02943568496259216137noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7567748419855549177.post-55216254584318311182023-09-11T19:28:00.004-05:002023-09-11T19:28:40.523-05:00Problems We Don't Have Anymore<p>I was reading through some of my old writings recently and some of the "daily life" irritations I would add to a story to sort of ground a character in realism don't exist anymore. I couldn't decide if I spend time updating my stories, or if I finish it as is as some sort of nostalgia grab. </p><p>In one story, the titular character is frustrated with the way the day went. He had corded headphones on and somehow catches the cord on a drawer handle in the kitchen and rips the ear buds out of his ears. </p><span><a name='more'></a></span><p>Getting your headphone cord wrapped around a door knob or drawer knob doesn't exist anymore. All the cell phone manufacturers killed dedicated music machines (whether cassette, CD, or MP3) and then killed the 3.5 mm headphone jack. Everything is Bluetooth now. </p><p>The new issue is that cordless earbuds fall out of your ears, so you spend a lot of time crawling around on the floor looking for them under furniture. </p><p><b>MP3 killed the CD Player</b></p><p>And of course, the MP3 player solved the problem of portable CD players. They had this anti-skip protection that never worked. They'd have small little memory stashes in the device and give you "Anti-skip Protection" for 3, 5, 10 seconds. This was a big selling point. Basically would spin the CD, buffer about 10 seconds of music in memory, and start playing at that point. Theoretically this would protect you from skipping music for short periods of time, but it mostly just ate your 2 AA batteries very quickly. </p><p>And the CD solved the problem of not being able to skip to whatever song you wanted to hear on cassette tapes. (And provided much much better quality of music) No longer did you hear that terrible sound of the tape getting jammed up in the guts of the Walkman and having to spend 10 minutes with a pencil winding the tape back into the cassette. </p><p><b>Writing</b></p><p>I remember learning cursive in second grade as a way to write faster. Average person can write about 8 words per minute (WPM) with cursive. </p><p>I remember in 5th grade, having someone come teach us a speed writing style where you essentially eliminated vowels to speed up writing. Your brain was equipped to fill in the missing letters. I can't remember what it was called, but I have to imagine that might have squeeze a couple more words per minute out. I only saw this used once, by a server at Bandanna's when I worked there in 2001. </p><p>Other than signing for things, I don't hand write anything. My penmanship was never great to start with, but with 15 years of rust, it's gotten much worse. But why would I? I can type 90 words per minute on a keyboard and something like 30 words per minute on a phone screen. </p><p><b>Phones</b></p><p>The corded phone... or at least the cordless phone you couldn't take more than 50 feet. </p><p>I kind of miss it actually. There was something free about not being expected to be on call all the time for anything anyone wanted. </p><p>You called someone, you'd have to get the guts up to speak to their parents if they answered. If they didn't answer, you didn't know if they weren't home or just no one heard the phone ring. </p><p>And if you really wanted to get ahold of someone, and you were me, you would call their phone every 15 minutes until someone picked up (Sorry Aunt Laura). </p><p>I remember when people started getting dedicated phone lines for the internet and cell phones and beepers were becoming popular and there was a real fear that we would run out of numbers in the area code. </p><p>And then we used to get two of the thickest books in existence delivered to our house once a year and everyone didn't bat an eye at it. "Yeah, I guess I'll store these 4000 pages worth of phone numbers." The Yellow Pages (businesses) and the White Pages (residential). </p><p>You'd flip to the P's for plumbing. Then, instead of getting to read a bunch of ratings and click the phone number to automatically call them, you had to decide based off how large of an ad space the business bought. </p><p><b>Answering Machines and Away Messages</b></p><p>And in the scenarios where you weren't available, you had to leave some message for people. </p><p>Answering machines would usually use proprietary small cassette tapes, you'd get something like 45 seconds to record a greeting. You messed up, rewind that tape back and record again. </p><p>There was nothing worse than getting your script together for if someone picked up, but then if the answering machine hit, you had 10ish seconds to decide if you duck out or leave a message. And I was the king of leaving terrible, anxious, and unhelpful messages. </p><p>Nowadays... sure, there's voicemail. I don't think I've had mine setup for at least five years now. I just let that Google robot talk to you. I hate talking on the phone and I certainly don't want to listen to your voicemail. Just text me. </p><p>One of the best things the big tech companies did was create that automatic transcript of the voicemail. I don't have to listen, I can just read, and then text you back. </p><p>Similar concept to any Instant Messenger you may have used. You'd just put in your away message where you were going, a little song lyric so people knew you were cool, and you'd come home hours later to messages from a dozen people. </p>Djs9pdhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02943568496259216137noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7567748419855549177.post-11824974390991968942023-08-24T15:23:00.000-05:002023-08-24T15:23:03.939-05:00Neighbor Interactions<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjUiJq_MfGnM_yM__DzFEDgQ85cZbpHmeyrHMavpnl2MISilux3yzx_Lc27Z3GwBhncN6JP4hoLc7skIFVdLsNCnUOhN4ziBfNG3Vs1cxI24NeS28NWFT-C0qkeROUdFW8jSzKzE8R_ONdwJJ3IxdegNt1mhQtB5bJyeHyOTUMbUYvFHcwTt0x-xj_79_rl" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="931" data-original-width="1236" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjUiJq_MfGnM_yM__DzFEDgQ85cZbpHmeyrHMavpnl2MISilux3yzx_Lc27Z3GwBhncN6JP4hoLc7skIFVdLsNCnUOhN4ziBfNG3Vs1cxI24NeS28NWFT-C0qkeROUdFW8jSzKzE8R_ONdwJJ3IxdegNt1mhQtB5bJyeHyOTUMbUYvFHcwTt0x-xj_79_rl" width="319" /></a></div><br />Sal and I had this great neighbor for the past few years named Jeremy. Jeremy was incredibly kind and friendly. Anytime Jeremy and I were both outside, I got a very hefty, "Heeey Dannnyy." <p></p><p>He grew most of his own food. Guys garden made me feel inadequate. But with all gardens, you can only eat so much. So several times every summer we'd find baggies of hot peppers or okra on our porch. </p><p><br /></p><span><a name='more'></a></span><p><br /></p><p>He was Vietnamese, but spoke pretty good English. Our interactions were usually pretty brief, mostly because I had trouble understanding him. (Tinnitus in my ears + his accent and volume level)</p><p>There was one time where he gave me a tour of his garden and then offered to teach me his yoga and healthy eating routine. (I think Jeremy was probably in his 60s, but you would think he was 45.) And I was actually very interested. </p><p>The problem is, Jeremy was always catching me at the worst times. Unloading groceries, getting back from the gym and needing to log into work, after a 3 mile run, when it's super hot/cold outside. I never stopped to chat very long. </p><p>I always said I would go over to his place and just knock on the door at some point or sit in some lawn chairs out front and get to know the neighbors and Jeremy more. And I just never made the time to do it. </p><p>Jeremy had been living in St. Louis by himself for 35 years. He had girlfriends off and on, but no family. Back in June he told me he had made up with his estranged son who lived in Houston and Jeremy wanted to move there to be by his family as he neared retirement. </p><p>He told me I had been a good neighbor and he would miss me. And we never crossed paths again. I briefly caught a glimpse of him loading up a giant people mover van with his belongings and the next thing I know, he's gone, his lawn is overgrown, his plants dying. </p><p>It's weird to miss someone you really only had surface level interactions with. Every time I'm mowing the lawn and I see his wilting garden and overgrown lawn, I get a little sad. </p><p>I've had a few interactions with his property management company and it just let's me know the next neighbors will be temporary. </p><p>It's one of those things that reminds you that the world keeps moving whether you want it to or not. It reminds you not to keep saying, "tomorrow." I think it's an important reminder and I'm glad that this reminder involved my neighbor moving rather than dying. But it's a reminder nonetheless. </p>Djs9pdhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02943568496259216137noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7567748419855549177.post-74273349207482869402023-07-19T13:10:00.001-05:002023-08-22T17:44:45.182-05:00I Hate Driving<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgnw3ZE2Su6dj7CHrLDkCxKHWTFCPbFYUN_MKiU7aBLfqCF4XVKJjCRapCH6qikuNYBz35ST3EL7fwzS7W0ymHbr_qGyow3qg8aW1pYKnEWJ4iPuGhoK99HsuPLRfCbvcul2IvycJHZFQKnCVC2HB5FYN2q0GEDx9hLLIqRqkja20exD04-S7l_QiwIGDNe" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="980" height="196" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgnw3ZE2Su6dj7CHrLDkCxKHWTFCPbFYUN_MKiU7aBLfqCF4XVKJjCRapCH6qikuNYBz35ST3EL7fwzS7W0ymHbr_qGyow3qg8aW1pYKnEWJ4iPuGhoK99HsuPLRfCbvcul2IvycJHZFQKnCVC2HB5FYN2q0GEDx9hLLIqRqkja20exD04-S7l_QiwIGDNe" width="320" /></a></div>It's no secret, I hate driving. <p></p><p>I hate being in a car. I hate dealing with all the other people on the road. If you ride with me, you'll at least hear me dress down another driver for some boneheaded move once during the adventure. </p><p>I also hate being a passenger. I get car sick, so I have to look straight ahead. No phone, no sleeping. And since I'm looking straight on, I get nervous if you're more of a cavalier driver. I'm a phantom brake pedal-er. </p><p>We rode the train in Germany from Hamburg to Osnabrück and Osnabrück to Berlin. It was fantastic. We got there quicker than by car, there was no traffic, I got to read the entire time, and I drank a beer on the way back. Fantastic. Loved it. </p><p>Same riding the train from Chicago to St. Louis. Beer, microwave pizza, tons of Switch, and all of a sudden, I was in Chicago. </p><p>I just want to ride a train or light rail everywhere.</p><span><a name='more'></a></span><p>Car manufacturers have done everything they possibly can to make sure public transportation in America is crap. </p><p></p><ul style="text-align: left;"><li><a href="https://www.cbsnews.com/news/the-gm-trolley-conspiracy-what-really-happened/#:~:text=Back%20in%20the%20dawn%20of,without%20viable%20public%20transportation%20options." target="_blank">GM bought up street car lines</a> and shut them down in the early days. (Granted, there were other things afoot) The conspirators were indicted and charged.... $1 each. Yep, $1. I get charged more for parking on the wrong side of the street for street cleaning day</li><li>There's the <a href="https://www.huffpost.com/entry/what-ever-happened-to-pub_b_633585" target="_blank">car and oil lobbies</a> pushing for the highway system and for the local governments to be in charge of maintenance of those roads. The more the need for cars, the more money they make. The less they have to pay for road ways for those cars, the more money they make.</li><li>There's the decades car manufacturers have been telling us that a car is freedom and part of being an American. Half the Route 66 advertising nowadays is there to make you feel nostalgic for something you probably didn't experience</li><li>There's the <a href="https://www.bbc.com/news/science-environment-64241994" target="_blank">Exxon Mobil</a> lying about climate change and the link to oil and cars</li><li>Even in the present day, <a href="https://time.com/6203815/elon-musk-flaws-billionaire-visions/" target="_blank">Elon Musk admitted</a> he keeps floating the hyperloop idea to keep lawmakers from passing high-speed rail plans so people would buy his Teslas</li></ul><div>So you know, the free market at work. Those with the most money can grease the right hands and lie efficiently enough to make even more money.</div><p></p><p>There's a lot of reasons to hate cars.</p><p>It's <a href="https://www.theatlantic.com/business/archive/2016/04/absurd-primacy-of-the-car-in-american-life/476346/" target="_blank">estimated they prematurely kill 53,000 Americans every year just due to exhaust and remove an average of 10 years from an American life span</a>. </p><p>There's the way <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qr48ZxlYxOs&t=14s" target="_blank">Suburbs have been built around the idea of American's having cars</a>, which makes the burbs completely unsustainable resource monsters. </p><p>There's the traffic deaths, how cars lock you in an infinite cycle of always owing a bank money, you have to pay an insurance company money every month, there's getting screwed by mechanic shops, waiting around for random parts to come in, the death of the town center with the rise of drive-thrus. </p><p>Today though, today I'm going to focus on a much less serious reason I hate cars... the other drivers. </p><p><b>JoyFM and the Danger to Everyone Else</b></p><p>It's a well worn meme that having a JoyFM sticker on the back of your car is an indicator to other cars to leave at least 2 car lengths between you and the JoyFM car. </p><p>These cars are known for jumping 4 lanes to make an exit, driving straight with their right turn signal on, but somehow not using the right turn signal to actually turn. They will drive 10 mph under the speed limit, only speeding up to pass in the right lane. </p><p>If they had a gun, I would think they were premeditated serial killers, but the god honest truth is they are just unaware of anyone else in the world. They sit in that drivers seat, the only see empty road everywhere. </p><p><b>Brentwood SUVs</b></p><p>Brentwood is probably the worst place to drive in St. Louis. Most people would agree that the Target parking lot in Brentwood Commons has the highest chance for an automobile accident in the greater St. Louis area</p><p>There's some reasons for this. </p><p></p><ol><li>Supposedly the highway goes from 5 lanes, to 3 lanes, back to 5 lanes because there are so many municipalities in the area and some of them would not let the highway get expanded. I couldn't find any documentation of this, but it's sort of an oral history told around these parts. So when you're trying to merge onto 40 from 170 and you're sitting in a 3 mile line of cars... that might be why</li><li>Like moths to the flame, Brentwood has everything white people want in one place. It has a mall (The Galleria), it has a Target, Whole Foods, Trader Joes, Total Wine, Container Store, REI, Panera Bread, and the damn Cheesecake Factory. Most of these places share the same 2-3 parking lots. </li></ol>Why do I specifically mention white people?<p></p><p></p><div>Because the next type of driver is the Brentwood mom in the Escalade. She usually has a Starbucks with a reusable straw in her mouth. In the passenger seat is a 13 year old child... also with a giant Starbucks in their hand and usually some sort of soccer / baseball jersey on.</div><div><br /></div><div>Despite owning the largest non-commercial vehicles available, they do not actually know how large the SUV is. You'll see them taking up a minimum of 1.5 parking spaces, usually parked at an angle, with those little stick figure stickers of their giant family with 3 pets on the back window mocking me for having to park much farther away. </div><div><br /></div><div>No time to straighten that parking job out dammit, I gotta get little Timmy to soccer after I pick up my non-fat, vegan, coconut milk based sport drink. </div><div><br /></div><div><b>Big Trucks</b></div><p></p><p>I get it. Construction work of any kind is hard work and six months out of the year you're either working in the coldest weather or the hottest weather. </p><p>But just because you're tired doesn't mean you can run a red light, cut off six other cars, and gun it around the corner flipping off the bike rider as you go by. </p><p>The bigger the truck, the less they give a crap about everyone around them. </p><p>Ask my wife how she feels about these guys, because she has gotten into yelling matches with them while riding her bike. </p><p>They think they know all the laws of the road, because they think they are the law of the road. </p><p><b>Tesla is the new Beamer</b></p><p>Most of my childhood, it was known that anyone in a BMW was a rich jerk, and likely didn't care if you died in your 1995 Ford Escort because their time is worth more than your life. </p><p>Unfortunately, this is a problem that has expanded to include Audis and Teslas. For real though, there's a study the <a href="https://www.carscoops.com/2020/02/science-says-that-if-you-drive-an-expensive-car-youre-probably-a-jerk-on-the-road/" target="_blank">University of Nevada</a> did that found your likelihood of driving like an idiot goes up 3% for every $1000 your car is worth. </p><p>I live near Barnes Jewish hospital where not only are the best and well paid surgeons working, but rich people fly in from all over the world to get treatments. </p><p>Drive down Kingshighway near Barnes at 5 pm, and be ready to be side-swiped by some tinted window asshole in an Audi. </p><p><b>The Cool Bikers</b></p><p>Easy Rider and in general, the 60s and 70s, spent a lot of time selling us on the concept of the biker being the new cowboy / frontiersman. The hard as nails manly man that smokes cigarettes and participates in street justice. </p><p>The Hells Angels for a time were known as the hardest of the hardest guys. Even into the 2000s, we had the Sons of Anarchy doing really well on network television.</p><p>That culture has rubbed off on any dad with a Harley and any teen with a sport bike. </p><p>You've got the dad that gets off work at Boeing, has the goatee, his matching worn leather gloves and jacket, and he rides his giant Harley without a helmet, cause that's what real men do. </p><p>And god help you if you mention helmet laws. "This is about freedom, it's on me if I die, you can't tell me how to live my life." Well Brutus, unfortunately most motorcycle fatalities aren't one vehicle accidents. So yeah, even though you get to feel the wind in your hair, if you slide out on the road and run into my car, I'm the one that has to witness your brains all over the road. </p><p>Will your ghost be paying my therapy bills?</p><p>Or there's the roving gangs of bikers doing wheelies, weaving in and out of traffic, and running every red light. Once a year in St. Louis, they get together for the Ride of the Century where the general local rule is, just don't be on the road that day cause there's going to be a lot of organ donors out there. But we get the added benefit of getting to see the practice up and down Gravois on the weekends. </p>Djs9pdhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02943568496259216137noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7567748419855549177.post-69533022462318149632023-05-10T19:57:00.004-05:002023-05-10T19:57:38.209-05:00The Friends You Meet in the Men's Restroom at the Taylor Swift Concert<p>Sal somehow scored six tickets to Taylor Swift in Nashville. It took her 8 hours of waiting on line, patiently, for everyone else to give up at 5 pm when work was over, but she did it.</p><p>We could've made roughly $3000 selling them on the secondhand market, but Sal's not a monster, and let her friends buy tickets for face value. </p><span><a name='more'></a></span><p><br /></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgA6Z5JSEe76P-bUM7_KF4PWNPMkndPTjumnrhzsrkjgZcJmITa16jrEoKXJ2JFarwcbVXVlIjiUpAiMSly2pBHpECU-wb9MXWIRguoysYROMH96sPZ_jNa5AvC79WENfRT3XFPLTP_pj8XzPnvdkynnnFwxypSxn-Y2srDlm8xIsrvkmbD53vRe2OcAg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="402" data-original-width="430" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgA6Z5JSEe76P-bUM7_KF4PWNPMkndPTjumnrhzsrkjgZcJmITa16jrEoKXJ2JFarwcbVXVlIjiUpAiMSly2pBHpECU-wb9MXWIRguoysYROMH96sPZ_jNa5AvC79WENfRT3XFPLTP_pj8XzPnvdkynnnFwxypSxn-Y2srDlm8xIsrvkmbD53vRe2OcAg" width="257" /></a></div>We spent a long weekend in Nashville, just sort of bouncing around, checking out the Glen Campbell (he rips) museum, Carter's Vintage Guitars, Third Man Records, Tennessee Brewing Company, Centennial Park, Broadway... you know, Nashville things. <p></p><p>It was brutally hot the entire time we were there. One of those heats where the sun somehow just seems directly above you in the sky with nothing to block it, even at midnight. It took a ton out of us, especially when we walked about 9 miles on Saturday. </p><p>So on Sunday, when the concert was scheduled, the incoming rain was welcomed. At least it was in the morning, when the forecast said it would only delay the show by an hour and cool down the city by 15 degrees. </p><p>Monkey paw closes and you get what you ask for. </p><p>This wasn't just a quick Midwest thunderstorm. This was a four hour downpour. This is one of those rains where you are so wet that the only thing that will dry you up with a hot shower and towel off. </p><p>Imagine 80,000 15 year old girls cramming onto the outdoor ramps to the Tennessee Titan's football stadium. Rain coming in sideways, drenching them. Lighting dancing across the sky. The wind whipping fierce and cold. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFSSz26R1LuK9ku0Zym7AC0UewUWFRjlutr133PbyG4OhFTIDOXvw4zRokexe166f_8_Y0ZfES2AWkFrSMSUqiO_Ub0T8OOnqNVtDbdVgnTOwTzCUvCOJXbuqvS6swHvmBFuuW5GxCWvdSD50mzw39uF6tlYUa0DZvEJhH_Hywa7wnpcV0iZ5k0TqcGA/s3648/PXL_20230508_000531490.MP.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3648" data-original-width="2736" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFSSz26R1LuK9ku0Zym7AC0UewUWFRjlutr133PbyG4OhFTIDOXvw4zRokexe166f_8_Y0ZfES2AWkFrSMSUqiO_Ub0T8OOnqNVtDbdVgnTOwTzCUvCOJXbuqvS6swHvmBFuuW5GxCWvdSD50mzw39uF6tlYUa0DZvEJhH_Hywa7wnpcV0iZ5k0TqcGA/s320/PXL_20230508_000531490.MP.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br />Security wouldn't let you leave because there was a shelter in place order, but there wasn't enough room on the concourses for people to stay dry. Luckily, I was one of maybe a few thousand men at this show. Luckier still, the overlap of those few thousand men of drinking age was even smaller. <p></p><p>My buddy Cory and I pushed to the top, found a beer cart that was open, and stood around having a beer while every girl sang Taylor Swift songs at the top of their lungs. Eventually, that beer turned to urine and we needed to use the restroom. </p><p>Because of the demographics I described above, the men's bathroom was empty. Not only was it empty, but it had a heater going. </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>It was unspoken at first, but Cory and I were forming ideas. Namely, get another overpriced beer, and let's go hang out in the bathroom. </p><p>Soon other guys started looking at us in our corner, having a good time, and they started thinking, "hmmm... is this something I need to be a part of?" We'd see them wash their hands and then return a few minutes later with a beer of their own. </p><p>After we had grown to about a dozen men, we decided this was now the Men's Room Social Club. Like the Rat Pack, everyone had a role. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPU-ytbWfzGSgsYv8LHzKtQPmsUQYnofM9NgfJGa8DxbGnDZjDvS3DEJPW2DR38-KhUSEDUEl-y9PqmWu8CiMRfff6dTolJqjBnqBbLjQDsA9XSnxuW6vtl49iJxO9LEOa3qnKRZINpWNq_Txy_uBgjtkjlMHZBkD-DM4wjnPr6XihOmymZTrNQaKFMA/s4080/PXL_20230508_013947581.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4080" data-original-width="3072" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPU-ytbWfzGSgsYv8LHzKtQPmsUQYnofM9NgfJGa8DxbGnDZjDvS3DEJPW2DR38-KhUSEDUEl-y9PqmWu8CiMRfff6dTolJqjBnqBbLjQDsA9XSnxuW6vtl49iJxO9LEOa3qnKRZINpWNq_Txy_uBgjtkjlMHZBkD-DM4wjnPr6XihOmymZTrNQaKFMA/s320/PXL_20230508_013947581.jpg" width="241" /></a></div>Every now and then a girl would be shuffled into the Men's Room with their boyfriend, covering their eyes like horse blinders so they couldn't see the periphery. One guy from Kentucky always made the same joke about how men don't just wander around with their bits out and that you didn't need to cover your eyes. <p></p><p>Another guy, from North Carolina, mentioned Tennessee's anti-trans bill every time a girl entered, saying it was now illegal for them to be in there.</p><p>There was the dad that was chaperoning what looked like half a dozen girls who kept lying to them saying he was in line for pretzels or drinks. He'd leave after getting off the phone, and I'm assuming to buy whatever he lied about, only to return 10 minutes later to keep hanging out. </p><p>There were the two guys arguing over whether they would end up cancelling the show or not. "There's no way, it cost $50 million to put on each show. There's no way they move it." "Dude, she plays like 3 hours, it's almost 10 pm. There's no way they let her play until 1. They are just keeping us here cause the lightning."</p><p>A few of those girlfriends decided none of us cared they were in there and they hung out with the boyfriends. </p><p>OK, so maybe it wasn't Deano and Sinatra, but we were a band of brothers. </p><p>When the announcement that you could return to your seats was finally made, the trashcans in the men's room were filled with Michelob Lite cans. Everyone sort of looked at each other, nodded, and we all parted ways.</p><p>And Taylor put on a hell of a show. I don't know if I've seen a stage show anything like it. She played for four hours, trying to make up for the delay. We wearily walked home, getting there by 2 am. </p><p>This is going to be one of those weird memories that I will look fondly on in my old age as memory starts slipping. It just felt like one of those things that sticks with you the rest of your life. Another memory was likely purged to store it, and I'm actually really happy with that. </p>Djs9pdhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02943568496259216137noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7567748419855549177.post-68109042215924039372023-04-27T13:48:00.005-05:002023-04-27T13:48:46.705-05:00The Early Internet<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi-dOIJ4wsQZtBNCj5iABmsNVWnbO4veZpNQlzzoOQqaXnfGfJrMFePd5aWqflxStYvkow6z4_nJsiB-v9FXYvyePkKi1yWezuZAOHEL7Y0vSCl_OtcKdlmHZG2LsMRs0SH4D34fmVlWNIfU2zzbra5HDMy4Kk69cKfqV9-nTDqmb1vq_xadF51_ibyow" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="550" data-original-width="586" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi-dOIJ4wsQZtBNCj5iABmsNVWnbO4veZpNQlzzoOQqaXnfGfJrMFePd5aWqflxStYvkow6z4_nJsiB-v9FXYvyePkKi1yWezuZAOHEL7Y0vSCl_OtcKdlmHZG2LsMRs0SH4D34fmVlWNIfU2zzbra5HDMy4Kk69cKfqV9-nTDqmb1vq_xadF51_ibyow" width="256" /></a></div></div><br />Twitter, Facebook, the 24 hour news cycle, wanting to be first, algorithms that put you into an echo chamber ... it's all bad folks. I got off Facebook 4 years ago and Twitter last year and I have to say my mental health is so much better. <p></p><p>A lot of these companies hire psychologists who's specialty is gambling addictions. They don't do it to help you stop being addicted, they do it so they know exactly how to make you addicted to checking those sides and feeds all the time. </p><p>And one of the things they found is most successful at getting you to come back is RAGE! It's something Fox News discovered in the early 2000s, it's something Twitter built into their algorithm a decade ago, it's something Facebook introduced the moment they added a news feed. </p><p>If you are pissed off about something, you will engage with the site and posts more often. So the angrier you are, the more money they make off collecting and selling your data and advertising to you. </p><p>I'm of the last generation that knows what is was like before the wide use of the internet. Granted, I was a kid, but I remember being much happier then. I wonder if older generations feel the same? </p><span><a name='more'></a></span><p><br /></p><p>It's sort of a blessing and a curse that you have access to the entire world. </p><p>One the on hand, you get exposed to people and viewpoints you wouldn't in your cul-de-sac. This makes you a more well rounded person, considerate of others, and either strengthen or collapse the beliefs you had as a kid. </p><p>There's a lot of studies and polls that show the access to the internet (and more diversity in the generation in general) is one of the many reasons why Gen Z tends to be much more tolerant of other races, gender, and LGBTQ+ issues. </p><p>They aren't growing up thinking a gay person is a boogie man that might give them AIDs like kids coming out of the 80s did. They just know them as Julie, the person they play Fortnite with. </p><p>The flipside to wide internet access is that you also get to see how incredibly evil most of the world is. And with wide spread camera usage (thanks iPhone), things that were whispered about like police brutality and political corruption are out in the open. All it takes is for one person to pull out their phone and capture it for the event to go viral. </p><p>I have memories, mostly fond, of playing long games of roller hockey at the St. Jerome's Church parking lot. </p><p>I used to ride my Huffy through the cornfield behind the school, jumping dirt ramps and exploring the creek. </p><p>And of course, gathering up whatever loose change was around the house to go to Render's Drugs and buy 20 for a $1 Laffy Taffys. There was even one time, in my infinite wisdom as a child, I purchased an entire container of cake icing... cause I loved cake icing. I ate most of it, then threw up in the hot sun, and couldn't have normal cake icing again for years. </p><p>We played freeze tag, kick the can, games that vaguely resembled soccer and whiffle ball, but ended more like Calvinball. Where the rules were made up as we went.</p><p>And sometimes we'd play Star Wars, where Ryan, Jake, and I would grab whiffle ball bats and smack the living hell out of each other because they were our lightsabers. </p><p>That's some real hop scotch / jump rope / Little Rascals memories. </p><p>And then the internet came. </p><p>I still remember one of the first times my dad connected. We were called around the giant computer monitor to see a low graphic checkers board and a chat window with Chinese characters being typed. The Storys were online and playing chess with someone across the world. </p><p>There was the distinct 90 second garbled tone in those early modems, one that I can still imitate, that was the sound of connecting to the internet. Despite it being an inarguably terrible sound, it still hits my ears like a warm blanket. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/gsNaR6FRuO0" width="320" youtube-src-id="gsNaR6FRuO0"></iframe></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>Unless you were rich and had two phone lines, this sound signaled an uneasy truce in the house. No calls could come in while someone was on the internet, they would get a busy tone. And no one could pick up the phone or else the connection was gone. There was a lot of yelling up and down the stairs, blaming each other. </p><p>There wasn't much to do on the early internet. </p><p>You'd fire up Netscape Navigator and browse categories on Yahoo! instead of searching. So you'd click<br /> music, then see 40 or so bands listed. When you clicked the band, you'd see if there was an official page or fan pages. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiLjdOkMiJF4up8wOudZIH5A9TRaQPx0NmXlMZjglfqq1TiAvzsudJW3bp4bUPf2biMYl0PYyboBdTCyZy_l0fDxeZr8wuytSo_wlGzPBc3wysNnPIb_zZgA7aZkxPxWQ73NrYX1_tK48NUGTNqFU0-mQlhs4fljTpFmEO7EGrNM4UqqTpKsOyJ9wDLYA" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="740" data-original-width="1100" height="215" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiLjdOkMiJF4up8wOudZIH5A9TRaQPx0NmXlMZjglfqq1TiAvzsudJW3bp4bUPf2biMYl0PYyboBdTCyZy_l0fDxeZr8wuytSo_wlGzPBc3wysNnPIb_zZgA7aZkxPxWQ73NrYX1_tK48NUGTNqFU0-mQlhs4fljTpFmEO7EGrNM4UqqTpKsOyJ9wDLYA" width="320" /></a></div>I spent a ton of time on the first Limp Bizkit fan page. One of the first "viral" moments I remember on the internet was when one night Wes Borland (guitarist) signed into the message board and sent a super low res picture with the date and the board name and chatted to the 100 or so people in the message board for hours.<p></p><p>And the connection was so slow, sometimes you couldn't tell if you were disconnected or not. So I spent likely hours of my life watching the Netscape stars in the top corner of the browser. </p><p></p><p>Then there was <a href="https://gamefaqs.gamespot.com/" target="_blank">Gamefaqs</a>, a site that still exists, where users write extensive text heavy video game guides. I probably burned $30 worth of ink printing off the walkthrough to Resident Evil and the fatalities for Mortal Kombat 2. (Where I sold them on the playground for a $1 a character. Sorry mom and dad, that money did not make it back into your pockets)</p><p>Soon we moved to Internet Explorer. We didn't realize it at the time, but Microsoft was doing some shady monopolistic practices to crush our old friends at Netscape. But this was the first time I felt the internet got an "Upgrade." </p><p>The application looked sleeker, but our transition just happened to coincide with other quality of life Internet tools... like searching for a site. Instead of browsing lists of sites, you could search Yahoo! or Ask Jeeves. Gone were the AOL keywords. </p><p>Eventually chat rooms became popular. My buddies and I would get on whatever Yahoo! forum, spend hours chatting while we very very slowly downloaded one song at a time through Napster. A good night would mean you downloaded two songs that were the actual songs you wanted. </p><p>Then there was Battle.net. The future was in our hands. You could play Starcraft over these connections. Gone were the days of the low graphic chess boards. Now you were playing paper, rock, scissors with aliens. </p><p>It was around this time the internet stopped feeling like a magical place. Companies started understanding what a website should look like. They started collecting domain names to buy and sell like stocks. The Dotcom boom made the internet corporate and much less cool.</p><p>I feel like Y2K was the event where we switched from the pirate internet where people were trying interesting things to the Disney internet, where everything was safe or there to make money. </p><p>I don't know what the future looks like. Social media exploded as a sort of offshoot of AOL Instant Messenger. We had My Space and when you went to college, if you were a cool college, you had Facebook. And since then we've burned through more ideas and acquisitions than I can count. </p><p>Anytime there's innovation, a bigger tech company (or private equity firm) buys the smaller company and bastardizes whatever was cool about it. Four Square was snatched up by Snapchat. Instagram and Whatsapp grabbed by Facebook and heavily integrated in their data collecting scheme. My precious Vine was killed by Twitter. My Space has been bought and sold by several big companies. It still exists, but I'm not sure why.</p><p>I don't know what the future holds for the internet, but it sort of feels like there's a backlash against it now. The influencer culture is driving large portions of the internet back offline and into nature. But those still on there, constantly refreshing their feeds, can't put it down and I don't know if they ever will as long as smart phones exist. </p>Djs9pdhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02943568496259216137noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7567748419855549177.post-18485797537401981102023-04-06T16:02:00.003-05:002023-04-06T16:02:33.596-05:00Amusement Parks Make Me Vomit<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinMJAZBfDPrDTQ7hqZomHM2kol63pO8467-DPdVriVLNs9LVfM0cAZ_v0IsO6vEDPIPTURhof0RZMb86auXdNZwGlGVr_apTyBKiQsB9OlvrjMOBfIX-vRpV0MbSy66jireluBTh7Fcm-sDM5kj5bKvByxrTW8n8sxDQF2eliklPFxl9cUuc1tg8S1Gw/s1600/Carnival.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinMJAZBfDPrDTQ7hqZomHM2kol63pO8467-DPdVriVLNs9LVfM0cAZ_v0IsO6vEDPIPTURhof0RZMb86auXdNZwGlGVr_apTyBKiQsB9OlvrjMOBfIX-vRpV0MbSy66jireluBTh7Fcm-sDM5kj5bKvByxrTW8n8sxDQF2eliklPFxl9cUuc1tg8S1Gw/s320/Carnival.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>When I was younger, I used to love the carnivals. I looked forward to the St. Jerome's Catholic School fair in the spring, the Bellefontaine Rec Center carnival in August, and the Our Lady of Good Council Catholic Carnival in the fall. </div><p></p><p>Ryan, Jake, and I would scrap up all of the change and allowance we had, beg our parents for more, to blow it all on ride tickets and winning little choochkies made in China. </p><p>We would run around in the neon lights until midnight, laughing, being daredevils, and winning posters with sexy ladies on them. </p><span><a name='more'></a></span><p><br /></p><p>One of my favorites was the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Scrambler_(ride)" target="_blank">Scrambler</a>. Three people to a car, with a large spinning mechanism and a smaller spinning mechanism throwing all three of us against the side of the car in circles.</p><p><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Zipper_(ride)" target="_blank">The Zipper</a>, a Ferris Wheel but stretched, with cage cars that could spin upside down. There was one time at the Bellefontaine fair that the carny running the ride miscounted how many cars had been let off, and Ryan and I were sent on 3 consecutive rides with us screaming, "Let us off" as the world rotated upside down to downside up. (After reading more about the history of carnivals, I think it was purposeful)</p><p>And the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pendulum_ride" target="_blank">Buccaneer,</a> a giant pirate ship swing that rearranged your stomach to your throat. </p><h2 style="text-align: left;">Six Flags St. Louis</h2><p>At Six Flags, I'd ride the Ninja and Batman over and over again. Thinking it was so cool that you could do the loops and everything. Mr. Freeze was one not many wanted to ride, but I did, and many times. </p><p>And then I had my first brush with a ride too scary for me to enjoy, the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Screamin%27_Eagle" target="_blank">Screaming Eagle</a>. </p><p>I don't remember how old I was, but I doubt I was 10 yet. The commercials were flowing for the Screaming Eagle that year. Thay had just made some changes to the track and replaced some of the cars. </p><p>I didn't get to enjoy the ride at all because my skinny little boy body was sliding everywhere and the metal lap bar did not feel sufficient enough to actually stop me from leaving the car. </p><p>To this day (and I'm nearing 40) I have not been able to get the guts up to ride the coaster. I've stood in the shadows of the sign and I cannot force myself to actually get on it. </p><p>My next run in with "maybe I'm not built for these sort of thrills" was Sal's birthday, June 2014. All she wanted to do was go to Six Flags. </p><p>It was one of those classic summer Six Flags days where you question what you're doing with your life. Whoever made the decision to use blacktop as the main walkway component should be imprisoned. The bottom of your shoes feel a little soft and sticky because they are melting. It got into the 90s that day. Still being relatively broke, we weren't about to spend $10 on drinks. So we tried to ration our Power Aide like camels. </p><p>We got there early and hit Batman assuming that's where the line would be eventually. </p><p>I remember the Batman being the smoothest ride I had ever been on. I would ride front-row and just have the time of my life. NO more. Riding the Batman is like being beat up by Batman. I felt rattled as we left, but ultimately recovered.</p><p>Then we hit the swings, which I remember being very relaxing. No longer. It's not just spinning around, 20 feet in the air at a relatively low speed. The new swings lift you up several hundred feet and spin you much faster. Even Sal, normally brave in the face of heights was like, "I don't think I like this."</p><p>And then we made the mistake everyone eventually does, we rode <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ninja_(Six_Flags_St._Louis)" target="_blank">the Ninja</a>. Another childhood favorite of mine, I learned those shoulder pads were never made for anyone over 5' 8". They are also worn down to just the smallest amount of rubber between your head and the metal. </p><p>The moment we hit the first corkscrew, I knew I had made a mistake. </p><p>I felt concussed getting off of the ninja. The combination of the shoe melting heat coming from the ground, the pounding headache I now had, and the stomach nausea cut the day short. </p><p>We rode the Ferris Wheel to see if it would help anything, but it didn't. </p><p>The kicker on the day... we were rear-ended by someone that very obviously did not have insurance on the way home. He started freaking out. And when I stumbled out of the car and started drive heaving, he freaked out more thinking we were pulling one of those, "Oh my neck hurts, I'm going to sue you" stunts. </p><h2 style="text-align: left;">Universal Studios</h2><p>And then we fast forward to our LA vacation last week. I really wanted to go to Universal Studios. I have fond memories of going in Florida as a kid. Universal Studios didn't have "rides," but they had "experiences." </p><p>Walk into a room and see a Twister touch down from the movie Twister. Ride a tram into a subway scene and see an earthquake tear everything apart. Ride a slow moving gondola while King Kong tore down buildings all around you. </p><p>That's not your Universal Studios today. NOT ONE BIT. </p><p>We got there early to beat the crowds. First thing we did was run to <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Harry_Potter_and_the_Forbidden_Journey" target="_blank">Harry Potter and the Forbidden Journey</a>. It's one of the more popular rides. I thought I was in for a nice easy ride on a broom through Hogwarts. </p><p>WRONG. SO WRONG. This experience had shoulder straps which should've been my first clue things were about to go bad. Hermione puts a spell on our seats, and we lift about 15 feet in the air and off we went. This ride had us upside down while a high def screen projected us flying through dungeons and dragons and Quidditch. By the end of it, I was dry heaving. </p><p>So, our friend that lives in LA, and goes to the park relatively often, said, "Let's ride a much chiller ride. We'll do the Simpsons ride next."<br /></p><p>The Simpsons area was almost as cool as the Harry Potter area. You passed by Moe's Tavern and the Quik E Mart and by the time we walked to the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Simpsons_Ride" target="_blank">Simpsons Ride</a>, I was feeling pretty good again. We entered the ride. It only had a lap bar (I think this used to be the Back to the Future ride) so I thought, "Ok, this is definitely chiller."</p><p>The moment the ride started, our buddy turned to me and said, "Oh yeah, I forgot how this starts." AGAIN, WRONG. Very much a motion sickness ride. It's about a roller coaster that gets knocked off it's tracks and you get pinged all around Springfield. </p><p>What's worse, there's another family sitting in front of us now. So if I vom on this ride, I'm throwing up on strangers. </p><p>And what's even worse than that, there's a running gag that the ride is about to end like 12 times.</p><p>"There's the exit door" screams Lisa as the track falls out from under you. </p><p>"We've got to be almost finished" says Bart as we get shot into the sky. </p><p>And then finally, there's a sign in front of you that says, "The worlds highest fall" and you go tumbling from space back to Earth. </p><p>I had my hat ready to catch any vomit that might come out, but it was a trucker hat and only going to do so good. I did vomit, but I held it in and just ran from the ride as quickly as I could. </p><p>So after that, we sat in Hogsmeade and had some butterbeers, rode the log flume, and I stayed the hell off of the rides the rest of the day. </p><p>These revelations as an adult have me questioning my warm memories of running around the carnivals and tearing through ride tickets. Maybe I always hated rides, but the nostalgia goggles of when things were simpler (and I had two good knees) make me believe I used to be an amusement park rider. </p>Djs9pdhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02943568496259216137noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7567748419855549177.post-63627466884569436132023-03-20T15:29:00.002-05:002023-03-20T15:29:17.865-05:00Mortality and Death<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhzPqBb4vOKq_bcXVn9wRsWK7dPFpbMDMBUhjrgvGZLM654kEXXp-2XBkB4Pk_MIFhiXq7Y6vynxIpnVWJa1oQBs0-nABNhDRPwz310ZT6OyrP1le9wiriMbheDZu-ucsAJY8uhO_uk-FRFBiKHXJgXpPSPfI2eLkTgqwUfcwUoZGZR61slHZ-LVk4DEw" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="562" data-original-width="1000" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhzPqBb4vOKq_bcXVn9wRsWK7dPFpbMDMBUhjrgvGZLM654kEXXp-2XBkB4Pk_MIFhiXq7Y6vynxIpnVWJa1oQBs0-nABNhDRPwz310ZT6OyrP1le9wiriMbheDZu-ucsAJY8uhO_uk-FRFBiKHXJgXpPSPfI2eLkTgqwUfcwUoZGZR61slHZ-LVk4DEw" width="320" /></a></div><blockquote><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #101010; font-family: "helvetica neue", helvetica, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 26.6667px;"></span></p><blockquote><blockquote>"Death does not concern us, because as long as we exist, death is not here. And when it does come, we no longer exist." - Epicurus</blockquote></blockquote><p></p></blockquote>Been thinking about death a lot lately. You know, a real light subject to be dwelling on. <p></p><p>There's a few factors at play. Sal and I just celebrated 15 years together which is a long period of time considering I still feel like our relationship is new. Partly because I'm approaching 40. Partly because it's been so gloomy. Basically, I'm getting older, people around me are getting older, so it's mid-life crisis time. Instead of buying a convertible for my mid-life crisis, I've just been discussing a lot of philosophy.</p><p><span></span></p><a name='more'></a> <p></p><p>The age old question of what happens after death is hard for humans' brains to comprehend. </p><p>Faith based concepts like an afterlife are the most common. </p><p>A rebirth where you come back as another person or animal, also a common concept. </p><p>Both feel like when someone uses a Portkey in Harry Potter. The more I think about it, the more vertigo I get. </p><p>Then there's the case that there's nothing. You just don't exist. Really, shouldn't be scary. It was the way it was before you were born and it is the way it was after you're gone. But the concept of me not existing is incomprehensible. I think it has to do with the, "You're always the star of the movie of your life." How can this planet continue to exist without it's main character?</p><p>I used to ghost hunt. I didn't realize it at the time. I just thought I was getting some cheap thrills and seeing some really cool buildings at night, but it gave me comfort anytime I found any sort of evidence that part of us lingers on. It was the most scientific evidence I could find for what's next. I haven't done that in 15 years. Maybe I need to re-up that. </p><p>True/False happened recently and one film got me more than others, <a href="https://www.kitvincentfilm.com/work/people-plr64" target="_blank">Red Herring</a>. </p><p>It's a film about a 28 year old who is diagnosed with a terminal brain tumor and he's given 4-8 years to live. </p><p>Instead of dwelling on the... you know... dying thing... he wanted to put together a film celebrating all of the good times with his father, mother, and significant other. All of that unimportant, mundane crap that we worry about all the time is thrown aside and he dedicates his life to reconnecting with these people and living on as a great memory in all of these people's lives. </p><p>The film captures these incredible moments of levity and companionship. The tumor becomes the b-plot. His significant other tries to live on as if nothing has changed. You get to see them joking around and generally seem like a great match. </p><p>His mother and him drifted apart, so he starts visiting her and getting into these deep philosophical and medical conversations (she's a nurse) about what is going to happen. She seems to try and keep him at arms length, but there's still a matronly love there. </p><p>And then his father has a crisis of faith and starts looking to religion to have some sort of comfort. Judaism appears to give him the most comfort. </p><p>The film culminates in his father getting Bar Mitzvah as a full grown adult. And everyone the director cares about is in one room, dancing like no one else is there, all with a crushingly emotional monolog over the top of footage of the party.</p><p>I'm glad the room was dark because it gave me permission to ugly cry and let a lot of pent up feelings out. </p><p>Astronauts report this feeling of "profound inspiration, overwhelming emotion, a sense of oneness, even transcendence" coming back from space. Something about seeing the Earth from space elevates you above those day to day problems. It's called the <a href="https://theweek.com/articles/619451/transcendental-revelations-astronauts" target="_blank">Overview Effect</a>. People that work with the astronauts as soon as they land back on Earth describe being infected with this feeling of the Overview Effect. They have this profound change in personality for several days. </p><p>Spoiler, the director of Red Herring, Kit, is still alive. He was there doing a QA. And he seemed like he was in pretty good health overall. </p><p>Kit went to the True/False dance party on Saturday night and I was browsing through comments on social media and I saw so many mentions of how his sort of live like every moment is the last was rubbing off on people in a positive way. A sort of Overview Effect that you get from knowing how limited your time is exactly. </p><p>Then, as if the universe was syncing up, a podcast I casually listen to called "<a href="https://soundcloud.com/letsgethaunted/episode-136-near-death-experiencesnde-all-the-proof-we-have-of-an-afterlife" target="_blank">Let's Get Haunted</a>" did an episode on near death experiences. There were some stories that were very cringe and I don't fully believe them, but there were equal amounts of stories where people talked about having this extreme calm, out of body experiences, seeing old relatives. </p><p>These are the sort of life and death experiences that ground me. There's something comforting hearing that people were seeing older relatives or floating above the room they were in. It tells me one of two things... there is some sort of afterlife... or at the very least our brains are designed well enough to protect us from extreme fear in our final moments. </p><p>I don't know if there's any nice bow to wrap this up in. I haven't come to any conclusions. The thoughts are still rattling around in my brain. But I at least seem to be on a journey of self discovery. I'm not running from the thoughts. I'm facing them. </p>Djs9pdhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02943568496259216137noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7567748419855549177.post-20830280666001055892023-02-08T15:54:00.003-06:002023-02-08T15:54:24.905-06:00Fifteen Years Pt. 2: The Party<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjIaEmq0IG0cqTEYUSd4QYvnxC-LiDW-1R36f6Tu1KW8WCLGPotTExshOodJ0cGLNMLLtTv27hDywceCUaM9sUuq9SMP5mcbE4jj_fiK_UMXs5eoGEmb8xszy6ktzdcSHzulufrc9Ukq8cqjkrIcakBvOF8a98ek0ZDFOJ90AQ2qwF8sokhQYZPBVz3QQ" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="937" data-original-width="1245" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjIaEmq0IG0cqTEYUSd4QYvnxC-LiDW-1R36f6Tu1KW8WCLGPotTExshOodJ0cGLNMLLtTv27hDywceCUaM9sUuq9SMP5mcbE4jj_fiK_UMXs5eoGEmb8xszy6ktzdcSHzulufrc9Ukq8cqjkrIcakBvOF8a98ek0ZDFOJ90AQ2qwF8sokhQYZPBVz3QQ" width="319" /></a></div>I had a whole series lined up to regale you all with stories from our marriage, but I realized it's all stories I've covered here and told you in person. So instead, pt2 is going to be about the party we threw over the weekend and will likely be the last of this series. <p></p><p>Once we approached the 10th anniversary, we thought, maybe we do something special. We've made it much further than a lot of people. </p><p>That was 2018, and Sal and I had planned a trip to Napa for our 10th anniversary. The planet had other plans for our 10th. If you remember 2018, most of California was on fire. Therefore, no wine for us.</p><p>In 2021, we had talked about throwing a huge 13th anniversary party in honor of the insanely bad luck we've had. But karma looked us in the face and laughed and continued a global pandemic. A lot of the restaurants we wanted to rent out weren't open for dinning yet.</p><p>So fast forward to the 15th, a nice multiple of 5. Feels like an important year. It's the year you're supposed to give something crystal to your significant other. We're halfway to 30 years. 15 feels like a good year to finally celebrate. </p><span><a name='more'></a></span><p>We talked about what we wanted this party to look like. </p><p>Did we want to renew vows? No, not really our style. </p><p>Some sort of dress up formal party? Nah, too big of a barrier to entry. </p><p>So we adjusted the conversation to, "if we were getting married today, what would that look like?" </p><p>Our original plan for starting life together was to move Sal out to Myrtle Beach to start her job. I would stay back in St. Louis and find odd jobs for a couple months while I applied for things out in Myrtle Beach. Then we would get married sometime in late spring/early summer and I would move out there. </p><p>Well, once Steve, Sal, and I were on day 3 of moving Sal into an apartment by herself across the country, the plan quickly changed to getting married at a restaurant less than 2 weeks later so that she wouldn't be alone. </p><p>Wasn't the most romantic wedding, but it did include most of our best friends at the time. It also included the highest person I've ever met, even to this day. He was our waiter and he was fantastic. Very good mood, very good food suggestions, he just couldn't open his eyes very far. But he lightened the mood. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi1MQfzZse4sjHaODVfhLD6mbdqhy0hAWwUI-M1Vcs74DoiPQ0plUMW38mLDRbg1zl_ESM7EL8iDw0RuB9pt366-GA5-iop_eTObWRosd84u46uFwLNxgEWpoVlIvS3Oa3zGDprq8IqFUHD1Dr8SvNzuisMPbqdo_zcRlhc_ID_bbJ0MQxikbsJHVyArg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="651" data-original-width="492" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi1MQfzZse4sjHaODVfhLD6mbdqhy0hAWwUI-M1Vcs74DoiPQ0plUMW38mLDRbg1zl_ESM7EL8iDw0RuB9pt366-GA5-iop_eTObWRosd84u46uFwLNxgEWpoVlIvS3Oa3zGDprq8IqFUHD1Dr8SvNzuisMPbqdo_zcRlhc_ID_bbJ0MQxikbsJHVyArg" width="181" /></a></div>I don't know if you know this about me, but I really don't like dressing up in a classical sense. It's uncomfortable and unless you have a tailored suit, I frankly think it looks kind of dumb. But it was my wedding, and everyone was telling me I needed to dress up. So my thrown together idea of "what would an adult trying to look nice on a budget do," I shaved my beard and purchased an incredibly ill fitting button down shirt from Kohls.<p></p><p>I look sweaty, bloated, and like someone you wouldn't want within 200 feet of your children. </p><p>Sal had to fly in from Myrtle Beach to make the wedding. She got off a plane, slapped on some makeup, and made it to the wedding with barely any time to spare. And she looked fantastic. Which just highlighted how much of a schlub I looked like. </p><p>We got married on a Sunday, and went to the court house on a Monday to make it legit. Having our first meal as a married couple in some dive bar in downtown St. Charles. </p><p>We moved to Myrtle Beach, made a bunch of friends, started feeling like adults, both got laid off, and moved back to St. Louis in less than six months, just in time to have a big ceremony in Cape Girardeau, Missouri. </p><p>It wasn't the wedding we would do now, but I don't know that anyone knows what that is especially when you get married young. Unless you were someone that had been planning their wedding their whole lives, you sort of just throw your hands up at some point and say, "Put a white dress on me and book a venue."</p><p>This time, I was dressed much nicer thanks to the fine people at the nearby mall Saavi. However, my idiot decision making struck again, and I shaved my beard. Now, having lost a little weight from our first wedding, I was looking a little slimmer and a little less creepy. So instead of looking like someone you shouldn't hire to babysit, I now looked like Potato Head. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgSS2eCsdBEVszc5RFKj51NRrR56NXBnfIyUoERosc-JZmhMQmUN2r6JF22hxgpwPLTl0N5m4-zv00asvch6C0JaeJpu2IidDlkKstvxLJnmPTsA5nHdlKiRibLdGu_iatMTeri6f3k-Ft7yNCaQELMnWYqPMpW379vvkc2btrjygZiOMmUjGchfSVDZQ" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="363" data-original-width="682" height="340" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgSS2eCsdBEVszc5RFKj51NRrR56NXBnfIyUoERosc-JZmhMQmUN2r6JF22hxgpwPLTl0N5m4-zv00asvch6C0JaeJpu2IidDlkKstvxLJnmPTsA5nHdlKiRibLdGu_iatMTeri6f3k-Ft7yNCaQELMnWYqPMpW379vvkc2btrjygZiOMmUjGchfSVDZQ=w640-h340" width="640" /></a></div><br /><br /><p></p><p>We had a great time. But since we got married so soon after graduating college a lot of our friends had spread out across the country and couldn't make it. And the mere drive time of 90 minutes kept most of my family from coming. </p><p>The ceremony was a blast and I wouldn't change it, (especially the truck that pulled up in the alleyway during our vows blasting Nickleback's classic "Figured You Out") but it wasn't all the people we would've wanted there. </p><p>And of the people that came, we aren't friends with a 1/3 of them anymore. Things happen. People break up. People have kids. You lose touch. </p><p>So, when we started talking about this party, we had the following requirements. </p><p></p><ol style="text-align: left;"><li>No formal anything. In fact, no dress code. Come naked if you want</li><li>No shaving, male or female. In fact, I was to do the opposite of shaving and not shave for many months. Last trim was October. </li><li>Lunch/Afternoon on a Saturday so that out of towners could join</li></ol><div>We also have made a lot of friends as adults that we wish we knew during our original wedding. A lot of people we wanted to celebrate with that weren't there for the first one. So we wanted a chance to celebrate us because our adult friends and family are such a huge part of what makes us work.</div><div><br /></div><div>So we started the great search across St. Louis. And you know what we found, venues really don't want to take your money. We weren't getting many replies from venues. Then, inspiration hit in a fantastic pizza place our friend Deb found near the brewery. </div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj1ewRk9CIgOUHCgC3h28MXFS1kMMR9Zbv-P1lng-eh2xKVGtk48z52BITyPM1p7LcLpEHdKqL8Eea34tOZDcM6aS99XBdCOS3KhpMYtu561cYc6ATAJ18RIXFpAuPgpbUe4VeadOqjsqYLd3WDywKPJctp_KgqxK1lsgOiHVj5330uiVLt72a-T75CoA" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="937" data-original-width="1245" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj1ewRk9CIgOUHCgC3h28MXFS1kMMR9Zbv-P1lng-eh2xKVGtk48z52BITyPM1p7LcLpEHdKqL8Eea34tOZDcM6aS99XBdCOS3KhpMYtu561cYc6ATAJ18RIXFpAuPgpbUe4VeadOqjsqYLd3WDywKPJctp_KgqxK1lsgOiHVj5330uiVLt72a-T75CoA" width="319" /></a></div><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>They had an arcade, so activities were covered for kids. (And adults)</li><li>They had a big drink list.</li><li>They had fantastic pizza. </li><li>And the decorations... fantastic. </li></ul></div><div><br /><br /></div><div>Basically if you gave me an interest free loan at 14 and told me to design my ultimate business, this would be it. </div><div><br /></div><div>It was a great party. We had about a 50 person cap since we were paying by the head and for drinks. We had to make a couple tough decisions and really shake down some people for their RSVP status to see if we could dip into the rest of our list. </div><div><br /></div><div>3 hours is not enough time when all of your favorite people are in a room and you want to talk to them all. </div><p></p><p>The added bonus was when the 3 hours was up, we had been handed our kitchen back to us, so we were able to host people for the first time in well over a year. It felt great to have people sitting around our table, laughing, drinking, and hanging out. </p>Djs9pdhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02943568496259216137noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7567748419855549177.post-2707707347415728422023-01-16T19:32:00.002-06:002023-01-16T19:32:53.544-06:00The Rona Comes Around<p>Taking a little break from my little jaunt down memory road celebrating 15 years of marriage because we finally have the Corona virus in our house. </p><p>I was feeling proud of us having the nearly 3 year streak of not getting it. The masking up, social distancing, vaccines were proving to be effective. We had even managed to go on long airplane trips without getting it. </p><p>We're pretty sure we know who patient zero was. It was one of those moments where we let our guard down. </p><span><a name='more'></a></span><p>We met up with a friend from out of town for a beer at Amsterdam Tavern. We started outside, it was one of those really nice days we had over new years weekend. Amsterdam is perfect for these sort of situations because they have a huge patio with tons of seating, so you can have fresh air and still social distance, but be comfortable. </p><p>And then the temperature dropped once the sun started going down and we had half a drink still. So we went inside and sat at the bar. </p><p>Unfortunately, the bartender was incredibly drunk and decided it was necessary to sing to us and talk to us and just generally be near us. All the while, he was just spitting in our vicinity. Pretty sure he's the one that got us because we didn't do anything else in public that entire weekend. </p><p>Sal tested positive Saturday the 7th, but may have had it a few days before, which would put her at day 6 from the day we got rained on by our favorite bartender. </p><p>Mine took a little longer. My allergies had been going nuts for the first two weeks of January since it's been weirdly warm and wet. Ever since Sal had a positive, I would wake up in morning feeling like crap. Stuffy nose, feverish eyes, soar throat, thinking, "Well, this is it, I've finally got Covid."</p><p>I took a Covid test every other day and they all were negative. I took my temperature every day and it was normal. I think I just happened to have a sinus infection the same time Sal had Covid. It might actually be the thing that protected me from getting initially. Since I couldn't breath, Covid couldn't get into my head. </p><p>We spent 4-5 days being as careful as we could be living in the same domicile. I slept on the air bed in the TV room, Sal slept in our bedroom. I cooked all the meals, sanitized constantly, and covered myself with a face mask anytime I went near the room.</p><p>We spent our 15th anniversary 20 feet apart, with the bottom half of our faces covered anytime we interacted. Real romance story here. </p><p>The first day I felt like my allergies had subsided was Thursday the 12th. The first day I woke up feeling crappy again with a positive test, was Friday the 13th. So I had a good 12 hour run. </p><p>Sal was hit much harder than I was. Luckily her body has this built in protection where it puts her in a hibernation anytime she's feeling crappy. So she slept for most of the days she was really sick. </p><p>I went a few days without a voice and had a lot of sinus pressure. So much pressure that I had a ringing in my ear for 3 days. </p><p>Friday was the only day I felt winded. I had to sign out of work at 3 and take a nap. </p><p>Saturday was my most uncomfortable day. Every joint in my body hurt a little bit. It was like when you have an itch on the bottom of your foot and you can't scratch it through the callouses. I just felt really squirmy and unsatisfied all day. </p><p>As of the 15th, Sal is testing negative, and generally feels pretty good other than some sinus pressure. </p><p>I feel like I've already worked through most of it as well. I've got some junk in my sinuses but otherwise feel fine. I'm going to test again tomorrow to see if I've kicked the virus yet. </p><p>I can't imagine what Covid would feel like if we didn't get vaccinated a couple months back. This was worse than any cold I've had in recent years, but ultimately I was able to kick it pretty quickly. </p>Djs9pdhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02943568496259216137noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7567748419855549177.post-14696525177025259602023-01-12T07:44:00.002-06:002023-01-12T07:44:19.751-06:00Fifteen Years Pt. 1 Origin Story<p>Fifteen years can really sneak up on a person. I can't believe Sal and I are already at this milestone. In my brain it still feels like we're sitting pretty around year eight or so. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFYmPJqWx0pZ_i15AuTedC-rYmDJGhyK4NfjwXWjye9Zh74-M6TARcgGrgSi-ThwY_EOeUHrv-kYJ9JtbnkE_U-DT7bq21tLOoWLym6cMeW4VCINkmlp67l7jQtFb4o46P8U6JEqkDTT9Jr_cvZOQev3izQ_9VenrrzTiGK3-iseX9mDwAv2bRooRb0Q/s2000/1619986591466-050df67c-8659-44a0-a636-884bfdcfe898.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1333" data-original-width="2000" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFYmPJqWx0pZ_i15AuTedC-rYmDJGhyK4NfjwXWjye9Zh74-M6TARcgGrgSi-ThwY_EOeUHrv-kYJ9JtbnkE_U-DT7bq21tLOoWLym6cMeW4VCINkmlp67l7jQtFb4o46P8U6JEqkDTT9Jr_cvZOQev3izQ_9VenrrzTiGK3-iseX9mDwAv2bRooRb0Q/s320/1619986591466-050df67c-8659-44a0-a636-884bfdcfe898.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Every year older I get, the timeframe of a year feels shorter. And with COVID taking a couple years, I guess what I'm saying is "what is time anyway?"<p></p><p>I was looking for the oldest picture I have of Sal and I together. I know a couple exist when we were dating, but I apparently don't have any of them. Instead, I have this picture from our first wedding, in the back of Willikers in St. Charles, which is permanently closed because of mold. </p><p>Sal looks great for having literally gotten off a plane and getting married. I on the other hand took terrible advice and shaved my beard and look like a potato head. <br /></p><p>It all started innocent enough. AOL Instant Messenger. (AIM) </p><span><a name='more'></a></span><p>Sal and I had a lot of mutual friends. We somehow kept landing in the same Spanish class at Mizzou, but we really didn't interact until Spanish 3. (I was intimidated because she hung with the smart kids and I had some real hard imposter syndrome in Spanish)</p><p>We had this just absolutely insane teacher for Spanish 3. The type of teacher where you would walk in and she would tell you to turn in homework she never assigned or tell you to turn to a chapter you already went over. If you've ever seen the Goonies, she looked and acted like the housekeeper from the opening. Not a great combo for someone that already has no idea what's going on in the class. </p><p>I was one of the last ones to class because I was usually opening the restaraunt beforehand, so I got sat up front in Spanish 3. So when the crazy started coming out, my only move was to turn around and say, "What the hell is going on?" And staring back at me was Sal and another girl, Rachel, who would both shrug and make me feel better and worse. </p><p>After class, Sal, Rachel, and I would all walk downtown because we all worked at restaurants. It was a five minute walk, nothing too deep, but that's how we started talking. </p><p>The week before Thanksgiving break 2006, I was sort of hitting people up on AIM to see who was going to be around the following week. I was generally the only person left in town, so I was looking to see if there was anyone to hang out with, and Sal was that person. </p><p>I suggested that maybe we meet at Flatbranch the Thursday before break, when all finals were finished and have some celebratory beers. (Flatbranch being the only brewery in town at the time) I didn't think anything of it. Literally just wanted to get a couple drinks and have something to do. </p><p>That's when my legendary roommate Adam Hinds asked me if it was a date. Something I hadn't considered. I had technically asked a woman out for drinks, even if a date wasn't my intention. And I thought about it and figured, "Well, if it's a date, that's probably fine. I'm sure we'll have fun and if we don't, I'm done with Spanish now and never have to see her again if I don't want. If it's not a date, then my original intention is still intact." </p><p>But I needed a plan for just in case I showed up and she had friends, so I asked Adam if he would come incognito. He was going to come in a minute after me, look at the table we were at, and see if it was just me and Sal, in which case, he was going to leave. If I was at a table of people, he would join us.</p><p>Well, Sal wasn't sure what it was either. So she brought her two best friends, her brother, and his best friend. Despite not really knowing each other, and the people we brought not knowing each other at all, we actually had a really good time. </p><p>One by one people left to go to work, go to bed, go play Halo, until it was just Sal, Adam, and I watching some weird Claymation cartoon about how the dinosaurs died back at my house. And that's when we setup our next hangout, which slowly evolved into dates. </p><p>We weren't exclusive yet. We both had a full dance card. </p><p>She had a guy she had been seeing a little bit before me. She had an ex-boyfriend that was still very much trying to push his way back into her life. She had a friend that she went on a few dates with. </p><p>I was dating a coworker. Someone I chatted up that was walking by our house one day. And a friend of a friend. </p><p>So we kept it casual, but were having a fantastic time while doing it. And slowly we both started to realize we were seeing those other people less often.</p><p>Sal and I finally had that conversation, you know the, "What are we" conversation. And Sal told me she wanted to keep things casual since she hadn't been out of a relationship that long. </p><p>Then came the thundersnow of 2006. Rob Brown, my English friend, having never seen real snowfall before in the UK, and also not knowing snow and lightning at the same time was a thing, stood on our front stoop and said, "Is this the apocalypse?" Snow came fast and hard, but we were 22 and invincible. So instead of getting groceries and getting ready to bundle up and in, I met up with Sal and Matt at a party around the corner from my house. </p><p>Again, Sal and I were in a lot of the same circles before we started dating. I had actually been to this house a few times for parties and one time even stole a mix cd I found sitting out. This was the friend Sal was hanging around a lot and sort of dating/not dating the summer before we met. Have no idea how we didn't run into each other sooner. </p><p>Eventually, Matt overdid it a bit, and I walked him back to my place. The snow now was too deep for anyone to drive or even walk across campus home. So Sal and Matt crashed in the two lazy-boys we had in our house. </p><p>The next morning, Matt trudged his way through the snow without Sal. She stayed behind, I think partly because I got it in my mind that I wanted Lion's Choice, and I was determined to dig Lindsay Baish's SUV out of the snow to go get some, and Sal was intrigued by this dedication to roast beef sandwiches. </p><p>So I start working on the driveway. Meanwhile, Sal is inside getting grilled by all of my roommates' girlfriends about what we were. And in some cases, threatened if she broke my heart. They were very protective of me.</p><p>We did make it to Lion's Choice to find it closed. So in defeat, I returned home, where Sal was waiting for me, and she sort of said, "I guess we're a thing now."</p><p>That's how official it was. I later found out, Sal was a little reluctant to date me because I was such an alternative guy with all my piercings and tattoos and she didn't want to be that alternative couple. </p><p>And from there, gas was spilled on our relationship and everything burned bright and quickly. </p><p>We got engaged on our one year dating anniversary. </p><p>We graduated college a few weeks after that.</p><p>We moved Sal across the country a week later. </p><p>And we got married a few weeks after that. </p><p>I moved across county a few days after that.</p><p>Lot of life lived in those weeks. </p>Djs9pdhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02943568496259216137noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7567748419855549177.post-14754444940183627482023-01-04T15:02:00.002-06:002023-01-04T15:02:36.537-06:00Memphis, Tennessee (Nov 30 - Dec 1)<p>We didn't want to go home yet, so picked one last destination to round out the week. We wanted to start heading back toward home, so it didn't leave a ton of options. It was basically Branson or Memphis. </p><p>We had both been through Memphis very quickly before, so we didn't necessarily need to stay for a long time, but we did want enough time to actually unpack our bags for once.</p><p>We stayed in a hotel called, "Arrive, Memphis." It was this very cool concept where they built the hotel in an old factory. And instead of the room having hard installed walls, there were walls on rollers everywhere in the room so you could sort of customize your layout. </p><span><a name='more'></a></span><p>We got in around 4 on the first night and didn't really have a plan. So I took a look at my phone, saw there were some points of interest and a brewery across the street and walked that way. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqVI9X9VsB4Lo_oWlMez7Pyr3WPZA_EMdlHTpNcVSFKOj4l-8ubSuI-1ADKq_qpKA99OJKgDm6xud1A4KcjvOXCKFWtj73-hu495PSBm16s89P1vUgtEcBE7aAd9gGicsH_Z8Op5W4-afXl1YwjJtpF8oDdUOLjbgqq-p3RG-92nXmvxmmCDPBk27JhQ/s4032/PXL_20221130_213706015.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqVI9X9VsB4Lo_oWlMez7Pyr3WPZA_EMdlHTpNcVSFKOj4l-8ubSuI-1ADKq_qpKA99OJKgDm6xud1A4KcjvOXCKFWtj73-hu495PSBm16s89P1vUgtEcBE7aAd9gGicsH_Z8Op5W4-afXl1YwjJtpF8oDdUOLjbgqq-p3RG-92nXmvxmmCDPBk27JhQ/s320/PXL_20221130_213706015.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Over a small hill, I was slapped in the face by history books. The hotel where Martin Luther King Jr. was assassinated stood in it's original glory. They've kept the same colors of paint and maintained the hotel, turning it into a Civil Rights museum. I was a somber place. There was a vortex of energy that made everything feel heavy. Staring at the wreath where the good Doctor fell and the famous picture of his entourage pointing toward the shooter. <p></p><p>We wandered on, stopping at the park where the 1866 Memphis Massacre happened. Unintended theme of our trip was America's racist history. </p><p>To lighten the mood, we stopped in at Wise Acre Brewery which had a spectacular vibe. Everything felt personally chosen by the owners. Art covered every surface. Bright colors covered every wall and floor. Great beers and very cool gear. We bought what was probably a 5th brewery's shirt for the trip.</p><p>We ate at B.B. Kings on Beale street which turned out to be delicious and the random Thursday night live music was very good. </p><p>The next day, we did the ultimate tourist thing to do in Memphis... Graceland. </p><p>I understand the Graceland visiting Elvis fans now. Graceland is magical. It's a time capsule. It's a lived in home captured in a moment. </p><p>Sal hit the nail on the head, a lot of times when you go to a mansion, it feels empty, lacking personality. Graceland feels like a place people lived. A place where every decision was made with love. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIKZr0rbj3eD-A8gP9OZknU56PPGEX_rSws8nDnr_KySu25jrlzG0TKE6n5xT1LUOf5MVoPqsh-dcN35XZcgfUBfHuSzBjp-0j8yEXhsN9k_KYhvtck13z8_iFsELshKgXu2mVusiQDTmZp12zj-TRcokyLcYUpLjunQ_KJ2fp84-1PfVnC-cQw7LV-A/s4032/PXL_20221201_172029316.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIKZr0rbj3eD-A8gP9OZknU56PPGEX_rSws8nDnr_KySu25jrlzG0TKE6n5xT1LUOf5MVoPqsh-dcN35XZcgfUBfHuSzBjp-0j8yEXhsN9k_KYhvtck13z8_iFsELshKgXu2mVusiQDTmZp12zj-TRcokyLcYUpLjunQ_KJ2fp84-1PfVnC-cQw7LV-A/w320-h240/PXL_20221201_172029316.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>The estate kept all of Elvis's Christmas decorations and Sal happened to be visiting a few days after they put them up. <p></p><p>There was the piano / tv room when you first entered, with this gorgeous white and red tree, highlighted by peacock stained glass. This is one of those pristine rooms that grandma would have and no one would be allowed in there except for Christmas. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq4X3WDjeUPfMvvI6dNbxmyqYpG2XmuwcXdV0AorOWcGdpkguCCnct8-flVIQZRUdc_z4Re8S1bZfO-HOYFNkfhESYMv7kHWylYDFeYzWrECh5CntpuGBzg8WBAeD87V2Yl75--XRau3I7rrG58YjhxFxedbYvNtQG3LbPXWDpvfsW5YphCciJRaOIRw/s4032/PXL_20221201_172254694.MP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq4X3WDjeUPfMvvI6dNbxmyqYpG2XmuwcXdV0AorOWcGdpkguCCnct8-flVIQZRUdc_z4Re8S1bZfO-HOYFNkfhESYMv7kHWylYDFeYzWrECh5CntpuGBzg8WBAeD87V2Yl75--XRau3I7rrG58YjhxFxedbYvNtQG3LbPXWDpvfsW5YphCciJRaOIRw/s320/PXL_20221201_172254694.MP.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Then behind you, a large dinner table with yet another tree at the head of it. <p></p><p>You go to the basement, which contained everything I think about when I think about the 60s. Huge couches that lined the room, mirrors, basement bars. Elvis had a wall of TVs so he could see multiple things at once. Then leaving that room, you enter the billiards room with the pulled cloth wallpaper and ceiling. </p><p>And then you emerged from the basement to see the famous Jungle Room, decked out with presents similar to the ones given to Lisa Marie. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0DpXyVCYE0UWN4xNlh7QzNOqRmz4O_STjwlNUPMplY0oWwSgw8VtRnOoabfJE7FKWkXJ7NYOc15r_w10l6ahAYUghFRZIxGrw-bont55RD3N5a2xNQzFt9opGtRzn_CwN3iiXDCBWIKAKgvXdry06dLzWl1buEqAwoq4yXksga3GiI_ym2G44iQ7_UQ/s4032/PXL_20221201_172358526.MP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0DpXyVCYE0UWN4xNlh7QzNOqRmz4O_STjwlNUPMplY0oWwSgw8VtRnOoabfJE7FKWkXJ7NYOc15r_w10l6ahAYUghFRZIxGrw-bont55RD3N5a2xNQzFt9opGtRzn_CwN3iiXDCBWIKAKgvXdry06dLzWl1buEqAwoq4yXksga3GiI_ym2G44iQ7_UQ/s320/PXL_20221201_172358526.MP.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />At this point, I thought maybe the tour was coming to an end and I was little miffed at the price. But soon found out we still had the trophy room and Vernon's office, and the smoke shack, and then the horse stables, and then the racket ball gym/pinball hangout building, and then the meditation garden where most of the Presley family is buried. <p></p><p>And then we got on a bus and found out we still had the jumpsuit museum, his car museum, the TV set museum, a museum dedicated to artists inspired by Elvis, the Lisa Marie museum, and finally a tour of his plane. </p><p>Was well worth the money. I never started to feel bored. I wanted more to be quite honest. </p><p>That night, we returned to Beale Street to have some beers and BBQ, a proper Memphis sendoff. We met up with Beth and Dylan (not planned, we just happen to be there at the same time) and just had a really nice relaxing night to finish out the trip. </p>Djs9pdhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02943568496259216137noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7567748419855549177.post-58144528509507286022022-12-26T16:03:00.001-06:002022-12-26T16:03:31.774-06:00Hot Springs, Arkansas (Nov 27-30)<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFGVKzkFm0gyAq_l5LOrNEfERUpp_vJG-qIvtm8nXlyV8SIYtFtAnAJlRQ-SCQJZt5OkeJxgGvjyuKVJ-tK7C7WU2wuT52_uBAL2AXSRlQ30jCjlRljcq3_W0P7XoHWqpwFcWVolvWFF5MeDb_EaCbuGMsrAsfOsP7PsrZZEb2VoQeL25gTxIWwKPAwg/s4032/PXL_20221127_220633391.MP.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFGVKzkFm0gyAq_l5LOrNEfERUpp_vJG-qIvtm8nXlyV8SIYtFtAnAJlRQ-SCQJZt5OkeJxgGvjyuKVJ-tK7C7WU2wuT52_uBAL2AXSRlQ30jCjlRljcq3_W0P7XoHWqpwFcWVolvWFF5MeDb_EaCbuGMsrAsfOsP7PsrZZEb2VoQeL25gTxIWwKPAwg/s320/PXL_20221127_220633391.MP.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Hot Springs Arkansas may seem like a weird place to travel to, but we actually based the trip around it.<div><br /></div><div>We want to hit every national park eventually. Seeing as how this was the closest one to St. Louis (other than the Arch), it seemed like a good idea. <div><p></p><p></p><p>We stayed in what was advertised as an adult treehouse. It wasn't. It was just an A-frame lake house that happened to be on stilts. But it was still incredibly nice. </p><p>We had this view from the kitchen, not too shabby. </p><p><br /></p><span><a name='more'></a></span><p>Hot Springs ended up being the highlight of the trip. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEUkvQeo1Gvv6ApeK28uyUd2Trbx6q7HUe4Bjj1d2s0aHOVWn54eA6AF7yAbWeLGELssRbrzbOoIBQSadGlruGgPU7rzLGeDxtvKHqYClVuxItBSkA4OrCLSievOAgPH459LLpmqnQyBC7KSSBQQAhw9u2f7HhI0QAXM3Q6GIcTvQ8nxprWvvmnTwziA/s4032/PXL_20221128_180716261.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEUkvQeo1Gvv6ApeK28uyUd2Trbx6q7HUe4Bjj1d2s0aHOVWn54eA6AF7yAbWeLGELssRbrzbOoIBQSadGlruGgPU7rzLGeDxtvKHqYClVuxItBSkA4OrCLSievOAgPH459LLpmqnQyBC7KSSBQQAhw9u2f7HhI0QAXM3Q6GIcTvQ8nxprWvvmnTwziA/s320/PXL_20221128_180716261.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>The main strip feels like a time capsule. One side of the road lined with bath houses from around the<br /> 1900s. The other side lined with small mom and pop shops. <p></p><p>The area seems untouched by Wal Mart and Amazon. Every shop thriving, even outside of tourist season. </p><p>The first night, we were beat. We stayed in and watched HBO. It was needed. It was a reset after a drive through the winding mountain roads. </p><p>The next morning, we parked, had some lunch, and walked the strip. At the end of the street is an active hot spring in a park. It was weird, the weather was slightly cool and then there was this like 80 degree spring just covering the park in steam. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dw0WQPE56G6RNBAM6fV65aE9IlBrFGYoEm37uaopVbGqntFlR5UrvqdcYH0znYEQ8Wfo-oS01dNPhEm7HbLUw' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>Now, something you might not know about me, is that since puberty, I've been very self conscious of my torso cause I got body hair a lot earlier than a lot of people. The group of people that have seen me without a shirt is less than 20 at this point. </p><p>Sal has always wanted to do a couples massage. I've never had a professional massage before because of this deep rooted childhood trauma. So I figured, "hell, none of these people will ever see me again, this will be the time to do it." </p><p>There are two bathhouses that are still in operation in Hot Springs. We booked a package at the Qaupaw. </p><p>Sal said typically you get as undressed as you want to be in a massage. So I was going to keep some boxers on. </p><p>WRONG! Not correct at this place. We're handed a robe, pointed to a dressing room, and told to get naked. </p><p>In all honesty, it didn't bug me too much. It was more the anticipation, sitting in the waiting room, waiting to be taken to the first part of our package, which was a personal bath in the hot spring water. </p><p>Basically a really nice hot tub, 102 degree water, inside a tent where Sal and I just got to soak for 20 minutes. The amount of minerals in the water was making all of my skin feel like tiny little bubbles were washing across the surface. </p><p>After our bath, we sat in a room with a bunch of other people (robes covering birthday suits) and cooled off with some mineral water and a very cold wet towel. </p><p>After that, it was massage time. And you know, the masseuse saw everything. She was good. She recognized that my left shoulder and my right knee were both in pain and she worked them so hard. But the way she was stretching me, my butt was out in the open the entire time. </p><p>I left feeling loose baby. </p><p>We spent the rest of the day sort of hopping into random places and grabbing appetizers and shopping at all of these awesome vintage shops. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWQb_AlSAhU0TNpvKkJ-grN3mxAUaTMF_1qtmpwSzdG7rYu-jJeQHuLFdeOPOY0slSfdK1i89jjJwjhRPZXxWkVs_sAnltQGw0a2oD7eFzCVfyCuqHhlRbvu3GpdVqwJK2vJ0KQZkoGNwuga3JAPrQUhKLQmfRtXiOFhEMZXmUFbXsoX13gabrO1BbWw/s3264/PXL_20221129_163344046.MP.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWQb_AlSAhU0TNpvKkJ-grN3mxAUaTMF_1qtmpwSzdG7rYu-jJeQHuLFdeOPOY0slSfdK1i89jjJwjhRPZXxWkVs_sAnltQGw0a2oD7eFzCVfyCuqHhlRbvu3GpdVqwJK2vJ0KQZkoGNwuga3JAPrQUhKLQmfRtXiOFhEMZXmUFbXsoX13gabrO1BbWw/s320/PXL_20221129_163344046.MP.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p>The next day, fog and rain rolled in as is tradition for our 2022 trips. Unfortunately, this was the day we had planned on hiking up the mountain. We still did the hike, but all of the views we had expected to see, looked like this. </p><p>There are two parts of the mountain you can sort of a do a "build a hike" on. A dozen trails all between half mile to a mile that all intersect. Many of them carved out during the health boom of the early 1900s. The prevailing and correct theory was that leaving the city full of polluted air and getting out into nature was good for you. </p><p>There's some great history along the trail. Plaques setup every couple hundred steps. And at the top of the mountain is a tower you can pay to go up into that's like another 300 feet up. </p><p>If not for the fog, we could've seen for miles of the mountain range. We covered 5.5 miles. </p><p>I'm going to list off all the various places we ate and drank as some quick hits. </p><p></p><ul style="text-align: left;"><li><a href="https://www.diablostacosandmezcal.com/" target="_blank">Diablos Tacos and Mezcal</a>: Fantastic bartender that gave us the rundown of local joints. Really good food. They closed early because a cat was stuck in a storm drain and they wanted to help rescue it. I would've done the same. </li><li><a href="https://www.thebrickhousegrill.com/" target="_blank">Brickhouse Grill</a>: Nothing special, just a really solid American Grill. In a cool spot. </li><li><a href="https://sqzbx.com/" target="_blank">SQZBX Brewery and Pizza</a>: Little off the main drag. Was quiet. Great pizza and I really liked the beer. (Sal was OK on it)</li><li><a href="https://www.gratefulheadpizza.com/" target="_blank">Grateful Head Pizza Over and Beer Garden</a>: Probably better pizza. I never trust Grateful Dead inspired places cause you never know when a jam band will break out and the food will take forever, but this place was great. </li><li><a href="https://theavenuehs.com/" target="_blank">The Avenue restaurant at the Waters Hotel</a>: Very laid back cocktail bar. If we go back to Hot Springs, we will likely stay in this hotel as it was in the middle of the downtown strip. </li><li><a href="https://www.superiorbathhouse.com/" target="_blank">Superior Bathhouse Brewery</a>: The only brewery in a national park, Superior Bathhouse Brewery is in the old Superior Bathhouse. Sal loved their beers, I was 50/50 on them. They had a Jalapeno beer that was fantastic. </li><li><a href="https://www.vault723.com/" target="_blank">VAULT</a>: This was our fancy dinner and it was magnificent. Perfectly cooked lamb steak, great wine list, quiet, love it.</li></ul><p></p><p>One last thing to mention is that the entire town was decked out in Christmas decorations. At night, it was like Garden Glow. Everywhere lit up. Was really happy to have gone off season. I feel like we got to experience Hot Springs at it's best and without any other tourist. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzsqfS8ShosrnbeiI0YujtUINHsk9a_V2ivQrNR94lfL0khSMpkMvw5svS0tBrbKup2c58wcGr0XIB1zNpgHg' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p></div></div>Djs9pdhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02943568496259216137noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7567748419855549177.post-77923493014146845232022-12-19T13:07:00.001-06:002022-12-19T13:07:08.185-06:00Tulsa, Oklahoma (Nov 25-27)<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEisHvUwR_j9r_ghfIjn3_6DPC4eJ6cERVSeAY94YTrxO2T-NQf8jAs4rYAXvkROJWHW6amuNQI2Mw2vWZxk6Hj_4ZhnvTb-OC8YhyBMEnxN8FY8SAGvdX0N1I7Jv79NnotcbHsIMrugm5-mZRUe3LWHraonJ-iVnaRSn5gPBwtqjRFe7OU-CibhbdwrHw" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="937" data-original-width="1249" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEisHvUwR_j9r_ghfIjn3_6DPC4eJ6cERVSeAY94YTrxO2T-NQf8jAs4rYAXvkROJWHW6amuNQI2Mw2vWZxk6Hj_4ZhnvTb-OC8YhyBMEnxN8FY8SAGvdX0N1I7Jv79NnotcbHsIMrugm5-mZRUe3LWHraonJ-iVnaRSn5gPBwtqjRFe7OU-CibhbdwrHw" width="320" /></a></div>Sal and I found ourselves with a excess of PTO, but not a ton of money at the end of this year. Our house is still chaos. We can only relax by leaving. So we engineered a "cheap" vacation. <p></p><p>We had so much fun driving from Seattle to Portland last year that we planned a casual road trip. One where we don't have to actually be anywhere at a certain time so that if we wanted to pull off the road to see the worlds largest ball of yarn, we could. </p><p>We left Friday morning after Thanksgiving, getting on the road somewhere around 8-8:30 AM. Sometimes I forget not every highway is like 70/170/270. 44 outside of St. Louis is an easy ride. Rarely was I finding both lanes plugged up with slow moving trucks. I didn't see any cops. It was a nice ride in the sunshine, listening to podcasts. </p><span><a name='more'></a></span><p>We stopped in Springfield Missouri for lunch. It was the first audible. "Hey Sal, find us a place to get lunch." </p><p>We landed on <a href="https://springfieldbrewingco.com/" target="_blank">Springfield Brewing Company</a>. I hadn't been to downtown Springfield in almost a decade. Sal and I made the trip to see Rosie's final art show and meet her family in 2014. </p><p>I was surprised to see this vibrant downtown at the time. All my other times in Springfield were to see concerts. In and out quickly. Seemed like there was one road in and one road out with those metal roofed strip malls everywhere. </p><p>But no, there's this adorable little downtown area and Springfield Brewing Company had a prime spot. Here's what I can say about Springfield brewing, the spot is cool, very Schlafly like. The beers are fine. I've made better in my backyard. The food was decent. Overall, I would not go out of my way to go there again but wouldn't say no if someone was set on it. </p><p>We continued on the road to Tulsa. One mile before you hit Oklahoma, you're warned that there are tolls. It's $5 to drive from Missouri to Tulsa. And they don't have a website to pay your toll. They don't have credit card machines at the tollbooth. You have to pay cash. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_3UmayRok_-pHPJRaCsK0H2GfH_-NpPLHzJe2JaeMDW-d7Ro_osQoNhc750z9k2qqM84FChN7EeNXGRFn_rhAZOCoDRnAHvtE_2pUpUQ1tm-Nyr03cbnBGHrEX6Dkk305X9NCtMX32UR1rBypNQ1LkxE8ytQImJP99w7PQ1O3XKEa-Wvh6I6WXWgvGw/s3264/PXL_20221126_033758560.MP.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_3UmayRok_-pHPJRaCsK0H2GfH_-NpPLHzJe2JaeMDW-d7Ro_osQoNhc750z9k2qqM84FChN7EeNXGRFn_rhAZOCoDRnAHvtE_2pUpUQ1tm-Nyr03cbnBGHrEX6Dkk305X9NCtMX32UR1rBypNQ1LkxE8ytQImJP99w7PQ1O3XKEa-Wvh6I6WXWgvGw/s320/PXL_20221126_033758560.MP.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>We didn't have the cash, so instead we got an envelope with what we owed on it and were told to hand that to the clerk on the way out to pay our toll. Literally got an IOU for a toll. <p></p><p>I don't know what I expected of Oklahoma. I guess I always picture it as the dustbowl with ranchers working their land and protecting against bandits. Eastern Oklahoma just looks like Missouri. </p><p>Sal and I stayed in "<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mayo_Hotel" target="_blank">The Mayo</a>." A gorgeous hotel from 1925. It's been recently renovated and returned closer to what it looked like when it first opened. Huge open lobby, big chandeliers, and carpet that looked haunted. </p>We started the night walking down 5th street until we found an open door, which happened to be <a href="https://www.eerieabbeyales.com/" target="_blank">Eerie Abbey Ales</a>, a small brewery specializing in Belgian beers. The brewery almost seemed unfinished. Lot's of open space where tables could be. It had several TVs, all turned to college football games. <div><br /></div><div>The beers were good. I don't know that I would tell people to go here unless they are into that style, but it nailed the taste. </div><div><br /></div><div>As is tradition on our travels, we interacted with the other person at the bar. Rather, the other person interacted with us. She was watching the Arkansas / Mizzou football game and at one point screamed something like, "Screw Missouri, who even likes that team. It's a stupid place. Sorry if there's any Mizzou fans."</div><div><br /></div><div>She looked down the bar at us, expecting us to go, "Hell no, Arkansas all the way." Unfortunately, I was decked out in gold and black flannel and she found out she was currently outnumbered at the bar. </div><div><br /></div><div>We wanted to walk down Main Street because it was decorated for Christmas, so we just headed that way until we found another spot to sit down for a drink or two. We found <a href="https://www.welltownbrewing.com/" target="_blank">Welltown Brewing</a>. </div><div><br /></div><div>Welltown was a very rustic, small brewery with the exposed brick walls and a fried chicken place in the back corner, but the vibe was weird. It was Friday night and Sal and I were at the bar alone. We had a weird and quirky bartender who we soon found out from, that the brewery had a bunch of igloos on the roof that you could rent with your friends and stay warm. So apparently there were a ton of people on the roof. We didn't get the memo. </div><div><br /></div><div>We then got this amazing dinner at a place called <a href="https://www.junipertulsa.com/" target="_blank">Juniper</a>. It's one of those farm to table steakhouses. I just kept eating until I couldn't fit anything else in me. We then went back to the hotel, hung out on the roof for a little bit, and then went to bed early. </div><div><br /></div><div>Tulsa is known for it's Art Deco influence. We love that stuff. Sort of comic bookey turn of the century. There was an advertised Art Deco museum, so we had planned our Saturday around going there. </div><div><br /></div><div>We started at <a href="https://janesdelicatessen.com/" target="_blank">Jane's Delicatessen</a> for brunch. Everyone there was so incredibly nice. As soon as they found out we were out of towners, every 3 minutes someone would come by and give us a tip on things to do and places to eat. The food was fantastic. If you ever find yourself in Tulsa, definitely stop by Janes. </div><div><br /></div><div>When we mentioned we were going to the Art Deco museum, we got a little bit of a weird look. You mean <a href="https://decopolis.net/pages/decopolis-tulsa-art-deco-museum" target="_blank">DECOPOLIS</a>? </div><div><br /></div><div>Yeah, that's it.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyg8ntojrfCENUHq-v0eU_d0dY1s8cyGgtXDI9wm20jidszXmlcoq8FBGQ98zaLjerxfwM3upM64IaSnuOreZn3ZixbBWLywarO9BJ3fI8tvB7FuTwpoJ6FS51D-cy6oK-DixwGdsmFn2qAad3p_hLI3TRxEtoc81Ov8W3xFLBq_Pae-ZStEQtpxmmbg/s3264/PXL_20221126_180546640.MP.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyg8ntojrfCENUHq-v0eU_d0dY1s8cyGgtXDI9wm20jidszXmlcoq8FBGQ98zaLjerxfwM3upM64IaSnuOreZn3ZixbBWLywarO9BJ3fI8tvB7FuTwpoJ6FS51D-cy6oK-DixwGdsmFn2qAad3p_hLI3TRxEtoc81Ov8W3xFLBq_Pae-ZStEQtpxmmbg/s320/PXL_20221126_180546640.MP.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Well make sure you have other plans. <br /><div><p>What DECOPOLIS actually is, is a kind of cool gift shop. We were super disappointed in that. After we blasted through there, we went to a gift shop I actually wanted to go to, <a href="https://buckatomson66.com/" target="_blank">Buck Atom's Cosmic Curios</a>. I wanted to buy everything. It was all inspired by 1950s retrofuturism. I wanted ray guns and bobble heads, but alas, I held back. </p><p>We decided since the thing we thought would take a couple hours took 15 minutes, we needed to stop somewhere and figure out a game plan. </p><p>The rest of the day it rained non-stop. So it turned into bar hopping slowly from place to place until we made it to Black Wall Street and the Bob Dylan museum, which was the only other plans we had. </p><p></p><ul style="text-align: left;"><li><a href="https://www.nothingsleftbrewingco.com/" target="_blank">Nothing Left Brewing</a>: Loved this place. It was super collaborative and you could tell. Whether you were talking to the bartender or the brewer, everyone was bought in. They had great gear which we later found out was all designed by employees. We ended up stuck here for roughly 2 hours. There weren't many ride shares and it was pouring. So we buckled up and watched World Cup</li><li><a href="https://www.dabrewery.com/" target="_blank">Dead Armadillo Craft Brewing</a>: The vibe was a bit off here. Really dark. Not as much activity. Everyone was sort of drinking quietly. But I loved the design of their gear and the beers were good. </li></ul><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh9ExizgjdQ-hTip0hBSjj4mt4s8HDzC60FRnro3JCeTih8O5Vqbgb25f_HYujk5Si-AJqtho5Z9MoVs0FrMo3fmBzAzL1cMTNEve9AdYiGay8UlFzKwYtylSHyKGrKPKIOLUOf6jbwX5me0J4Y4hP4doKEXNXcLHEaTtVCH_ggn6INg5FO9F-LvYcWGA" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="937" data-original-width="1249" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh9ExizgjdQ-hTip0hBSjj4mt4s8HDzC60FRnro3JCeTih8O5Vqbgb25f_HYujk5Si-AJqtho5Z9MoVs0FrMo3fmBzAzL1cMTNEve9AdYiGay8UlFzKwYtylSHyKGrKPKIOLUOf6jbwX5me0J4Y4hP4doKEXNXcLHEaTtVCH_ggn6INg5FO9F-LvYcWGA" width="320" /></a></div>The rain slowed down a bit, so we made our way to Black Wall Street. <p></p><p>For those of you that don't know, <a href="https://daily.jstor.org/the-devastation-of-black-wall-street/" target="_blank">Black Wall Street</a> was the most prosperous black community in the country. And thanks to the Tulsa Tribune fanny the flames, it was also home to the largest race war in our history. 35 city blocks burned, 300 people died, 800 were injured, and 9,000 were left homeless. This is one of the few times where bombs were dropped on American soil when white farmers took to their crop dusters and started dropping explosives. </p><p>The Greenwood district today houses the minor league baseball team in Tulsa, but is still a largely black community with black owned shops. There's a reverence there. We saw tour groups walking around in the rain. </p><p>It felt a lot like when we were in Berlin going to museums that had been bombed to the ground only a century before. It was hard to believe the chaos and violence that had happened on these quiet streets in the middle of Tulsa. </p><p>We then moved onto the Bob Dylan Museum. We're not the biggest Bob Dylan fans, but we have a lot of friends that are huge fans. We thought maybe we could find some great Christmas gift ideas. </p><p>This museum ended up being a really cool concept. You were handed an iPod with a specialized case on it. And as you walked to each exibit you could scan the iPod and hear a song or interview related to what you were looking at. </p><p>I did find a weird connection to Bob Dylan, hearing his music right next the history. You could sense that this guy that millions of people adore, has just been trying to find himself his entire life. Never really sure about who he was, but continually exploring. </p><p>We finished the night at a Hawaiian cocktail bar that was full of the freaks and geeks we feel most comfortable around. There were only a few of us, but for the hour we ate, we were family. </p><p>We left Tulsa the next morning to Hot Springs Arkansas. And yes, we paid our IOU on the way out. </p><p><br /></p></div></div>Djs9pdhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02943568496259216137noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7567748419855549177.post-32910925028903855412022-10-16T16:59:00.001-05:002022-10-16T16:59:00.642-05:00Seattle to Portland Pt. 2 (Aug 1st - Aug 3rd, 2021)<p>It's very rare that I find myself with almost unlimited time on a trip. Usually we're trying to catch a train, plane, dinner reservation, or check in at a hotel. </p><p>We wanted to check out a few locations while we were in the northwest. So we rented a car for two days to get out to the suburbs of Seattle and to drive to Portland which is only 90 minutes away. </p><p>We were kicked out of our Seattle hotel at 11 am and couldn't check into our Portland Air BNB until 4 pm. So we had time to kill. </p><span><a name='more'></a></span><p>We kicked around the idea of hanging out in Seattle for a little longer and getting lunch somewhere. </p><p>We kicked around the idea of going to Portland early. But we didn't want our luggage sitting in a car while we had some beers waiting to get into our Air BNB. </p><p>So in a very rare instance, we made up a road trip as we went. </p><p>We thought about going to Aberdeen and seeing the birthplace of Kurt Cobain, but other than the bridge that "Something In the Way" is inspired by and maybe a statue, there's not much else to do there. </p><p>So I started looking around the map, I put a pin on a sleepy fishing town called Astoria. </p><p>"Well Dan," you might ask, "why Astoria?"</p><p>Well, that's a very simple answer, the Goonies. The Goonies took place there. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEfdNfWZxojwpM7TeYJrdQ6Sw9J3ykBSQLXuNC65bs4jFFc1gH31iEqUZ69C-_OexfKS3KrJ6QxrAxuGXNQZKH0lWnc-KgDiQiNbHzi4xKWYq9bC4t_u7TvU3CR_TDdnExTkWv3G7D5ulfyzL03ToEWB_ALlY3Ihdgc-FJjJ9uVA2rnd3u3zYLhNdCNg/s4032/PXL_20210801_225529668.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEfdNfWZxojwpM7TeYJrdQ6Sw9J3ykBSQLXuNC65bs4jFFc1gH31iEqUZ69C-_OexfKS3KrJ6QxrAxuGXNQZKH0lWnc-KgDiQiNbHzi4xKWYq9bC4t_u7TvU3CR_TDdnExTkWv3G7D5ulfyzL03ToEWB_ALlY3Ihdgc-FJjJ9uVA2rnd3u3zYLhNdCNg/s320/PXL_20210801_225529668.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br />So we started driving that way. We were going to make it to the area well before we were going to be hungry. That's the best part of a road trip, make up stops as you go. <p></p><p>I think it was Sal that found our first stop, which is the Wreck of Peter Iredale in Fort Stevens State Park. This was a 100+ year-old ship wreck that still sits on the beach, slowly rusting away. </p><p>The beach was gorgeous. The day was very gray, so it's not your typical sunny beach hang. But we had been in a car for two hours at this point, the fresh ocean air was incredible and revitalizing. </p><p>Our stomachs started growling, so we headed back into Astoria proper and stopped at <a href="https://astoriabrewingcompany.com/" target="_blank">Astoria Brewing Company</a> for a beer and some appetizers. It was fine. Just fine. But the doors were wide open, it was on the Columbia River. And we got to smell the ocean and watch ships come and go. </p><p>But what came next was some of the most fun I've ever had. Everyone in a great mood, the soundtrack was perfect, and we just cruised through some of the most beautiful nature I've seen in my life. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfHTQeJIHA8bBhI-dsH3BqdyRA1qlDBOGdm8D9_sF-voh1wL-PGMv2pAj2cCNC-jWvmNhHguev1rFjj7mYzU2QVCq4pn-cjpHUevmPCxkziFlL5QxsOJtj00yPYjDiEI8Kx_VYOPqPpXoyAehO0PYvcntcttxIEyc87Tn1pQbiZbeRsSIsyskfo65QtA/s3264/PXL_20210802_013232783.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfHTQeJIHA8bBhI-dsH3BqdyRA1qlDBOGdm8D9_sF-voh1wL-PGMv2pAj2cCNC-jWvmNhHguev1rFjj7mYzU2QVCq4pn-cjpHUevmPCxkziFlL5QxsOJtj00yPYjDiEI8Kx_VYOPqPpXoyAehO0PYvcntcttxIEyc87Tn1pQbiZbeRsSIsyskfo65QtA/s320/PXL_20210802_013232783.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>We stopped at Young's River Falls Park because why not? Waterfalls rule. I will always stop to see one. </p><p>And from there, Nick and Mariah got to cruise through the mountain side on all sorts of curvy and fun roads. (While I sat in the passenger seat, white knuckling, and trying not to throw up)</p><p>This was the most free I had felt in years. There weren't any calendar entries popping up or birthdays or errands. It was just us, on the road, with no real plan. </p><p>I loved it so much that Sal and I are doing a road trip later this year. (2022)</p><p>The tank was running near empty as we made it to the outskirts of Portland. We found a gas station with likely 30 miles or less of gas left. </p><p>We entered Portland with a full tank, ready to see what this Air BNB situation was.</p><p>Sal had found a really cool part of Portland. It's about a 10 minute train ride from downtown and is where people actually live and eat and drink. Lot of artists in the area. </p><p>The problem is, we arrived in Portland on Sunday night around 6. Options were limited. Luckily, we found this great spot called <a href="https://www.ramblerbar.com/" target="_blank">The Rambler</a> that server food until 10 only a few blocks from our Air BNB.</p><p>One of the big things Sal and I agree make good travel partners is realizing you don't have to do everything together. We're grown ass adults and we can go our separate ways if we want to. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPTX4bMGKfXybp7gzIp5aaKvygpgxa-QBDBkLWV98geuDS9pT6Ae97_7bfDmsiI885Shu0fXwsnYst_bwPmwulK-GJwp32_v-BkPbZhr1u30FmkGP8k9oWmRPsQew_IqpFSkDDLfqszhTTpkRIgbfkUOjrF4vy_ufkKes5wz8Nv83b1r3S4iG5PDcHdg/s3264/PXL_20210802_184320070.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPTX4bMGKfXybp7gzIp5aaKvygpgxa-QBDBkLWV98geuDS9pT6Ae97_7bfDmsiI885Shu0fXwsnYst_bwPmwulK-GJwp32_v-BkPbZhr1u30FmkGP8k9oWmRPsQew_IqpFSkDDLfqszhTTpkRIgbfkUOjrF4vy_ufkKes5wz8Nv83b1r3S4iG5PDcHdg/s320/PXL_20210802_184320070.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Mariah wanted to sleep in and that's fantastic. Get at it girl. <p></p><p>The rest of us drove out to <a href="https://www.fs.usda.gov/recarea/crgnsa/recarea/?recid=30026" target="_blank">Multnomah Falls</a> before we had to return the rental car. (And to beat the<br /> crowds)</p><p>Until I went to Hawaii this year, this was the most impressive force of nature I'd ever seen. The falls are 620' high and spray an area of about a half mile in mist. </p><p>And you can hike to the top of it, which we did. Nick peeled off about halfway because the path up was about one person wide. So vertigo was a real thing. If you happened to glance off the side of the path, you started feeling dizzy. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2Jjwl6G0RpyNJ6_DFT5NB8tUePtZF2GdkTcpa6K-fhuaRhVbL1eaPoMvNUuwbFgbra3uY8cO4Umn8h5Ge-vBkGymW0wAmsPA3kIHgKAN9S6oMHyS_VUM5KOH1MrPMi4rdcMKliQCpV13Gygs9PTWA7zCV1Zvwt8VFDAe3q7faRNqE9XGuAiupeQdImA/s3264/PXL_20210802_191915897.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2Jjwl6G0RpyNJ6_DFT5NB8tUePtZF2GdkTcpa6K-fhuaRhVbL1eaPoMvNUuwbFgbra3uY8cO4Umn8h5Ge-vBkGymW0wAmsPA3kIHgKAN9S6oMHyS_VUM5KOH1MrPMi4rdcMKliQCpV13Gygs9PTWA7zCV1Zvwt8VFDAe3q7faRNqE9XGuAiupeQdImA/s320/PXL_20210802_191915897.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />Sal and I made it to the top. We were exhausted. Our muscles hurt. But it was worth it to stand in the ice cold river that feeds the fall and look over the edge. <p></p><p>The three of us dropped the rental car off and went to a world famous brewery (<a href="https://www.deschutesbrewery.com/" target="_blank">Deschutes</a>) for a quick bite to eat before catching the train back to our Air BNB. </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYXHi9B4oj32JU1pXq5iM7CWk9Rs67oU5H8o88VICd7SddBLboppJbVQikcxkab728HGOf2AyOIXJhLtGKh1J7LZ26KdZtUU81V2WOKbnNSZOMsrPwPglbjTm49BO39BnTP-Y-DKYclHhzMtsEc_gLUFIZ1nVjlDHT7pBVW7oSjZmpCaalsU3MVOnZWg/s4032/PXL_20210803_023849469.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYXHi9B4oj32JU1pXq5iM7CWk9Rs67oU5H8o88VICd7SddBLboppJbVQikcxkab728HGOf2AyOIXJhLtGKh1J7LZ26KdZtUU81V2WOKbnNSZOMsrPwPglbjTm49BO39BnTP-Y-DKYclHhzMtsEc_gLUFIZ1nVjlDHT7pBVW7oSjZmpCaalsU3MVOnZWg/s320/PXL_20210803_023849469.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>We started for Predinner Cocktails at a place called the <a href="http://hereafterpdx.com/" target="_blank">Sweet Hereafter</a>. It was a cool bar where everything was made of wood and have a very fortune teller/carny vibe to it. They had vending machines where you could buy mystery party bundles. It was Sal's birthday, so I bought her one, and it just so happened that it was a birthday themed bundle. <br /><p></p><p>Sal and I try to make it a point to have a really leisurely nice dinner anytime we travel. Nick is not a huge foodie. Mariah is a bit more. So we wanted to keep that in mind when looking. </p><p>Sal nailed it. She found this incredible place called Laurelhurst Market. It's a butcher shop and restaurant. So every cut of meat was butchered by them. Just incredible steaks. </p><p>I think Nick said something like, "this is the best meal I've ever had in my life."</p><p><br /></p><p>We had a quiet evening in that night. We had been hitting it hard for the past week and the next day was our last. </p><p>Our agenda was to visit the large Japanese Garden and maybe zoo. But this Monday (August 3rd, 2021), for some reason, everything in Portland was shut down. </p><p>So losing an entire day worth of itinerary, we found ourselves with time and no agenda. </p><p>If you can't go to the giant Japanese garden... why not try a much smaller Chinese Garden. It was gorgeous, but all four of us agreed, it was very expensive for what it was. </p><p>We tried to go shopping and bounce around to various museums, but everything was closed. </p><p>While trying to come up with a better idea, we stopped at <a href="https://www.backwoodsbrewingcompany.com/" target="_blank">Backwoods Brewing</a> (my favorite stop in Portland) and <a href="https://www.vonebertbrewing.com/" target="_blank">Von Ebert Brewing</a>. </p><p>We didn't really come up with any better ideas, but the area by our Air BNB was largely unexplored, so we decided to just walk down the street. And to our surprise, we ended up actually finding some local shops open. We found another brewery, <a href="https://www.stormbreakerbrewing.com/" target="_blank">Stormbreaker Brewing</a>. And we found this fantastic pizza place where we got to listen to live Jazz called <a href="https://the1905.org/" target="_blank">The 1905</a>.</p><p>We ended the night early at <a href="https://the1905.org/" target="_blank">The Victoria</a>, a cocktail bar. </p><p>The next day was an early flight out. The ride home was boring, which when flying, is exactly what you want. We got home, all feeling like the trip was the perfect length. We could maybe squeeze out another full fun day, but we had covered something like 60 miles by foot in 6 days. </p>Djs9pdhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02943568496259216137noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7567748419855549177.post-45819421667536724622022-10-12T09:19:00.003-05:002022-10-20T09:53:12.394-05:00Seattle to Portland Pt. 1 (July 28th - Aug 1st, 2021)<p>My sweet sweet brother doesn't really know how to travel and relax. My sweet sweet sis-in-common-law loves to travel and loses her mind trying to travel with Nick. </p><p>So one night in spring 2021, we were having ramen together and talking about how it would be great to take a quick trip somewhere. </p><p>COVID vaccines were out, planes were back in the air, and we were all feeling like the walls were closing in on us. </p><p>So after brainstorming where to go, mostly weighing the sweatiness of summer Dan, we landed on the north west. </p><span><a name='more'></a></span><p>We arrived in Seattle on July 28th to quite possibly the best weather we could've asked for. No real humidity, a nice breeze flowing through the buildings, and plenty of shade to hide from the sun. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeldps1lY6-3LSojMlvPEjC9iVzQgXkFD6RljDd3DGXVJ0ysPWTH9Ajs85alM8GI3b-CQYM55DBmJXIRQ8vCUPc4jdB2RXEEi6P2Xa1VW8GJGgqBdPsRUFPpNMfrkKvhrMdEvaq92s1blhoQoRzAyYPPhIFozsUKVrdST9VAIUGFHBwRsF8gDDEX8dxg/s4032/PXL_20210729_181148433.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeldps1lY6-3LSojMlvPEjC9iVzQgXkFD6RljDd3DGXVJ0ysPWTH9Ajs85alM8GI3b-CQYM55DBmJXIRQ8vCUPc4jdB2RXEEi6P2Xa1VW8GJGgqBdPsRUFPpNMfrkKvhrMdEvaq92s1blhoQoRzAyYPPhIFozsUKVrdST9VAIUGFHBwRsF8gDDEX8dxg/s320/PXL_20210729_181148433.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>My mom had some extreme FOMO and asked for pictures while we were still on the trip. Being the annoying little turds that we are, we decided to share terrible photos with her while on vacation because she is notorious for capturing you at your most unattractive in photos. Here is <a href="https://zeekspizza.com/" target="_blank">Zeeks Pizza</a> for lunch on the 29th. <p></p>This is my art. You'll notice Nick took the time to rub his eyes, Mariah focusing on her phone, and half of my finger covering large portions of the frame. <br /><p>We went to the Seattle Center and Museum of Pop Culture for activities. </p><p>Like holy crap, if I became a tech billionaire, I would try to buy the Pop Culture Museum. This place is filled with guitars and clothes from some of my favorite bands like Nirvana and Pearl Jam. It had movie props from Ghostbusters, Star Wars, Indiana Jones, X-Files, Alien... just everything. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj73CrQIJ2tRSmUc-iQbtzzx7uDpSHkvgbvjfsfIlrXb72y3-XTlH6Gl3NXDGaIkC51axWyATK1NAYkEGKHo0iY64DaY4NZxV6sHWLPtdScv1W3F_ui8k3lkzNO-HUILz3zkC3Fst3eenceDNfAxcIwC8MqS9CORxZaRO6kaa6CLTYe7KWUQa0ujwD7hA/s3264/PXL_20210729_212250333.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="2448" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj73CrQIJ2tRSmUc-iQbtzzx7uDpSHkvgbvjfsfIlrXb72y3-XTlH6Gl3NXDGaIkC51axWyATK1NAYkEGKHo0iY64DaY4NZxV6sHWLPtdScv1W3F_ui8k3lkzNO-HUILz3zkC3Fst3eenceDNfAxcIwC8MqS9CORxZaRO6kaa6CLTYe7KWUQa0ujwD7hA/s320/PXL_20210729_212250333.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>There was a horror movie and sci-fi section. There was a fantasy section. Went spent like 4 hours there and I still felt like there was stuff to see. <br /><p></p><p>Here's me with the Jason (Edit: Posted the wrong picture with the wrong caption), movie worn, costume. </p><p>After we left the Pop Museum we probably bit off more than we should've. We walked back to the area where the Pier was to get a drink at the <a href="https://www.locustcider.com/taprooms/seattle-marketplace/" target="_blank">Locust Cider Market Place</a>. </p><p>Nick and Mariah, in one of the smartest moves, went back to the hotel to get a nap and hang in the air conditioning for a bit. </p><p>Sal and I, making a terrible decision, wandered down to Old Stove Brewing to burn time until we met up with some college friends that had moved to Seattle. </p><p>We walked to the other side of town to meet Pete at <a href="https://optimismbrewing.com/" target="_blank">Optimism Brewing Company</a> and then moved to <a href="https://www.elysianbrewing.com/locations/capitol-hill">Elysian Brewing</a> to meet his wife. </p><p>I think we weren't sure if things would be awkward. It had been a solid 15 years since the last time I saw him. But we picked up right where we left off, able to riff off of each other's jokes and not do that annoying, "Remember in college when..." thing to his wife. </p><p>They then came to dinner with us, Nick, and Mariah for some incredible Ramen at <a href="https://www.kizuki.com/" target="_blank">Kizuki Ramen & Izakaya</a>. </p><p>According to Fitbit, we covered 9.6 miles on foot that day.</p><p>The next day we did some real tourist stuff. </p><p>Stopped by the gum wall. Took some pictures at the pier. Walked through the market. And then took a tour of the Seattle Underground. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl2Pvn-BuE_imlDN1q_7s_7voy0Ezi6WU5eR_Uefbw0maefJ9Wuq4myMUbke4210fVrEqWCoKtVDTMbteV7wcxOmgSkvSJVXA4L94tldVax1Bs5J4FkmU6QFYqXAMez16jyUI34mmm-375PXYP8TO3fp7qs8iShGLnhF3yMivMeAlEECmMCzqI5s8_lg/s3264/PXL_20210730_204847435.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl2Pvn-BuE_imlDN1q_7s_7voy0Ezi6WU5eR_Uefbw0maefJ9Wuq4myMUbke4210fVrEqWCoKtVDTMbteV7wcxOmgSkvSJVXA4L94tldVax1Bs5J4FkmU6QFYqXAMez16jyUI34mmm-375PXYP8TO3fp7qs8iShGLnhF3yMivMeAlEECmMCzqI5s8_lg/s320/PXL_20210730_204847435.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />Essentially, there was Seattle 1. It was a nightmare without any sewage and people were constantly getting sick because the sewage just hung out in the streets and water supply. <p></p><p>Instead of digging down and installing sewers, they just built a city on top of the city. So you can tour this underground area which still has a ton of buildings in tact. </p><p>Here's Sal and I by a toilet. Because why not. </p><p>We hit a couple breweries on the way back toward the hotel, but learning a lesson from the day before, went back to the hotel and took a nap. </p><p>That night we met up with some friends we know through good friends in St. Louis, via Texas. Confusing I know, but basically a lot of our friends moved to the Seattle area. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5x8kEwZchQpCVaykvTuAh9PSYdNPPclCaa3bZszZR9Wo9e5wuCWz-cKZ9eP6_738yCI6Lm1cWPvnIHFY_2HVqCJtiS4TdUSZWg7lNKRtzaiIu7U50-_ATwRtqyjwYYh8Di7ygffpBU-5Huj0sSKpIrzU32D3lqBo7bl0rIyabuSzE0PuymTw5qjxmdQ/s3264/PXL_20210731_044822614.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5x8kEwZchQpCVaykvTuAh9PSYdNPPclCaa3bZszZR9Wo9e5wuCWz-cKZ9eP6_738yCI6Lm1cWPvnIHFY_2HVqCJtiS4TdUSZWg7lNKRtzaiIu7U50-_ATwRtqyjwYYh8Di7ygffpBU-5Huj0sSKpIrzU32D3lqBo7bl0rIyabuSzE0PuymTw5qjxmdQ/s320/PXL_20210731_044822614.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>We had sushi. Lot's of it at the <a href="https://www.umisakehouse.com/" target="_blank">Umi Sake House.</a> Again, not sure of what the vibe would be since we don't see these friends often, we ended up hitting it off and getting invited back to their badass apartment where we had too many cocktails and seltzers. <p></p><p>You can see the view to the right. Below us (and I didn't get a picture of it) is a building Seattle residents lovingly call "<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Amazon_Spheres#:~:text=The%20spheres%2C%20which%20range%20from,access%20on%20January%2030%2C%202018." target="_blank">Jeff Bezos' Balls</a>" because it's a very phallic looking building. </p><p>At the end of the night, really feeling ourselves, the day, the trip, we ended the hangout by everyone hugging lovingly and awkwardly. </p>The final full day was a bit lighter. We had covered over 20 miles on foot the first three days, so we wanted something a little laid back. <div><br /></div><div>We got a rental car and drove to my Uncle Jon's house. It had been at least a decade since the last time I saw him and I was the only family member that hadn't taken a trip out to his house yet. </div><div><br /></div><div>It's a gorgeous place. Tons of plant life, vegetables. Various places to hang out and catch up. Just a really pleasant afternoon. </div><div><br /></div><div>Then we did the one thing Nick asked us to do. We went and saw a drift race. </div><div><br /></div><div>I have since become a fan of certain motorsports, but this is what opened my eyes to what racing could be when it's not just right turns for 3 hours. </div><div><br /></div><div>Drifting is insane. There's a lead driver who is supposed to stay on this line on the track as close as possible and complete things are fast as possible. Then there's a follower who's job is to drift as close to the lead as possible. And when I say as close as possible, these guys are going insanely fast and just missing each other by inches around the turns. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dxxocpC6WD1Jflhq8TfQK5F59ebklPIN5YLEoiU4Uk27WrU2rzVwH5a5p42hRdkkY7AjYFMYBzg2o3lHMFXXA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>We got home and went to bed semi-early. The next day we had a road trip to Portland. <br /><p><br /></p></div>Djs9pdhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02943568496259216137noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7567748419855549177.post-32078452392241427252022-09-25T21:56:00.006-05:002022-10-12T09:19:34.791-05:00Colorado Springs: The Top of the World and Other Earthly Wonders (Sept 9-12, 2021)<p>Remember when I said I found myself being really depressed and sort of brain dead last year? Well, I've had a draft of this blog for exactly a year sitting around. Started on 9/25/2021, finished, I guess tonight. </p><p>I always like to get my vacations written down soon after I get back so I don't forget some of the smaller details of where we went and what we saw. Luckily, I wrote a lot of bullet points, but let me fill you in on the vacation I took a year ago. From now on, it will be from the perspective of me, in 2021. </p><p>I went to Colorado Springs a few weeks ago. </p><p>I didn't know what to expect, but I didn't expect it to be so much of a desert. Just 90 minutes north is Denver, a city with gray mountains and cloud coverage. 90 minutes south, a desert, with strange natural wonders scattered throughout the dusty landscape. </p><span><a name='more'></a></span><p>When you're driving east and west on highway 70 in Missouri, you can sort of forget that these beautiful natural wonders exist all over the country. When you're used to the flattest of flat lands lined on either side with billboards both telling you to get right with Jesus and stop at this 24 hour adult store, seeing any sort of mountain, or hell, large hill is a treat. </p><p>Colorado Springs sits at a convergence of desert, mountains, and forest, which gives you an incredibly unique landscape. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9zRiqwGwsbFc4QyZ-dou7jutCL8qQpyc3kzy140S5XOZ4pE5ZY5I1s9tWb9368dOwHrStRm49zcwvwFS1K5zS0YOxsd6W5x7yX_5akJT0T4qG_Z0vuxDQKqjHeD768L03g3hoCUsdo_LUg7hijFgH4-PqKaP2xuT3OEG7BRBgAt91Ed7NJ8zl2tf9HA/s4032/PXL_20210909_231405835.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9zRiqwGwsbFc4QyZ-dou7jutCL8qQpyc3kzy140S5XOZ4pE5ZY5I1s9tWb9368dOwHrStRm49zcwvwFS1K5zS0YOxsd6W5x7yX_5akJT0T4qG_Z0vuxDQKqjHeD768L03g3hoCUsdo_LUg7hijFgH4-PqKaP2xuT3OEG7BRBgAt91Ed7NJ8zl2tf9HA/s320/PXL_20210909_231405835.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Garden of the Gods is indescribable. Dozens of rock formations scattered among an area. Each rock formation doesn't seem possible. An alien surface right here on Earth. <p></p>It's technically in the desert, so the shift between temperatures in the exposed sun and the shadow of the rock is enough to give you whiplash. <p>My only regret is not having enough time to do a true hike. We only had a few days, so I had to settle for bouncing around the park for a few hours.</p><p>Mom, Steve, Nick, Mariah, Sal, and I just constantly calling for the attention of everyone else to see the awe inspiring thing we just found.</p><p>The city of Colorado Springs is carved between so many mountain ranges, which gives it a unique layout. It's almost shaped like a really narrow L. We stayed in what I guess I would call the suburbs, only about 10 minutes from downtown on one side and 10 minutes from Pike's Peak on the other. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixNHAEK8hkKCJ5JLSc3zlFIWv1FxhOi-FuZUdAlQ1mTJDQwx4b4NWqVyzlJDKk5lZdUbe7jvSlyWuDMJh2noZqL_6KNWjoTMNnUeaUh-Esu6pVfwc03uT6Q1f8pZUcNbWxIQn9WSJS0TGwA2sRFsEMfy_qlJRemZiFFNP7TUTvRHK_ZW98OtzdHcHjiQ/s4032/PXL_20210910_020514936.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixNHAEK8hkKCJ5JLSc3zlFIWv1FxhOi-FuZUdAlQ1mTJDQwx4b4NWqVyzlJDKk5lZdUbe7jvSlyWuDMJh2noZqL_6KNWjoTMNnUeaUh-Esu6pVfwc03uT6Q1f8pZUcNbWxIQn9WSJS0TGwA2sRFsEMfy_qlJRemZiFFNP7TUTvRHK_ZW98OtzdHcHjiQ/s320/PXL_20210910_020514936.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>I turned my notoriously picky brother onto ramen not long before this trip. Mariah, Nick, Sal, and I were on our own for dinner the first night and I found a random Sushi and Ramen place downtown called <a href="https://yoomae.com/">Yoo Mae</a>. This place was incredibly unassuming, and almost had that pizzeria look to it, where everything was pleather or dirty tile, so you knew the food would be good. <p></p><p>Folks, the food was incredible. Sal and I shared a few sushi rolls. Some of the best sushi I've ever had. </p><p>Next door was a bar, that somehow was unaffiliated with Yoo Mae, but was a Japanese inspired cocktail bar called Chiba bar. There was anime on every wall of the room. </p><p>Nick and Mariah called it early, it had been a long travel day. Sal and I weren't quite finished so we found this Irish pub called Alchemy. It was fine. Totally just OK. Sort of you run of the mill, dungy Irish pub. The thing that was awesome is that there wasn't a single person in the bar from Colorado Springs. Everyone wanted to trade stories of their travels and where they live. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpUzsV691Hg0zfyooTU5E79HWLqOq7njBy1GD4Q9p1aG3GOTbD00LIWga4M-x4m6_Geoh0YIWTDa62F5qPfvHzo6BT06fvbtYl803TXcuUtj0MIkgb_3hPrM5p_Hb0UuN0XQjJUuJHhDnWhdoaGH-mdVXN86ik3k00446fQ_TWjKqbKUk4yN_qDWB-mQ/s3264/PXL_20210910_161642473.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpUzsV691Hg0zfyooTU5E79HWLqOq7njBy1GD4Q9p1aG3GOTbD00LIWga4M-x4m6_Geoh0YIWTDa62F5qPfvHzo6BT06fvbtYl803TXcuUtj0MIkgb_3hPrM5p_Hb0UuN0XQjJUuJHhDnWhdoaGH-mdVXN86ik3k00446fQ_TWjKqbKUk4yN_qDWB-mQ/s320/PXL_20210910_161642473.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>We had an early night for us, 10 pm or something like that because the next day everyone but me had an early morning appointment for riding horses. <p></p><p>I stayed behind. Having a bad knee doesn't exactly lend itself to riding giant animals. Instead, there was this hooky "Ghost Town Museum" near where we were staying. I went there. It was just me the entire time in this giant warehouse with all these weird little displays that I don't necessarily think screamed "Ghost Town" rather just sort of "Western." But I had fun at how stupid it was. </p><br /><p>I did my own hike waiting for everyone to come back in Red Rock Canyon. It was no where near as cool as Garden of the Gods, was super dusty, and had no shade. 5/10 hike, but I did get to listen to a ton of podcasts. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt0e5NbP4EmrEDuioMyzYLrgb7kHOUxuPiTk12XKd37Qh3WS6YpWbc1jymusB_YAfks6C6FHLhMwShN6K9fHeX_h2VRAOq4RqCY6MzE_iu48ewr_ys5L_2wRoEwkPxvYhshZTKnh80P1ShaSflndhbJ7LSbDHTIpC7pTzioDqXLdXIQRG4rvU7PZZDIA/s4032/PXL_20210911_004513782.MP.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt0e5NbP4EmrEDuioMyzYLrgb7kHOUxuPiTk12XKd37Qh3WS6YpWbc1jymusB_YAfks6C6FHLhMwShN6K9fHeX_h2VRAOq4RqCY6MzE_iu48ewr_ys5L_2wRoEwkPxvYhshZTKnh80P1ShaSflndhbJ7LSbDHTIpC7pTzioDqXLdXIQRG4rvU7PZZDIA/s320/PXL_20210911_004513782.MP.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>That night we had all been looking forward to going to The Rabbit Hole. Like weeks and weeks we had all been texting about all the food we wanted to order off the menu. <p></p><p>We were all having a beer at <a href="https://phantomcanyon.com/">Phantom Canyon Brewing</a> when we got a call 20 minutes before dinner saying there had been a kitchen fire and all reservations were cancelled. Panic set in as we were all trying not to show how hungry we were and now we found ourselves in downtown Colorado Springs, all dolled up, with no where to go. </p><p>Sal and I did some quick detective work, finding a steak house, imaginatively called, "Famous Steak<br /> House." Somehow they had someone cancel and could fit our group of six in, with no notice, on a Friday night. And you know what... it was unbelievable. Just one of the most solid old style steak houses I've ever been to. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwRejovn-NtTh8AI7LQtd3FpzFzhTHgq5oiB3aAUBOi0XCAru7UYYcMJj09SsdQU46zoL_ZxCC0hs1Kg9w06txxw3Vq7fRPY3-nlYszlvjh7U6hHB6uznuifPS-KuEodY_zzyIp87AS4hApR5grVVNui8dzDwkG8qakS0YIDS6jMKGIc3oO3z3J5Fkaw/s3264/PXL_20210911_020337112.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwRejovn-NtTh8AI7LQtd3FpzFzhTHgq5oiB3aAUBOi0XCAru7UYYcMJj09SsdQU46zoL_ZxCC0hs1Kg9w06txxw3Vq7fRPY3-nlYszlvjh7U6hHB6uznuifPS-KuEodY_zzyIp87AS4hApR5grVVNui8dzDwkG8qakS0YIDS6jMKGIc3oO3z3J5Fkaw/s320/PXL_20210911_020337112.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />After dinner, we met some of Mariah's family who took us to some really cool cocktail bars, <a href="https://www.shameandregret.com/">Shame and Regret</a> and <a href="https://leespirits.com/locations/">Lee's Spirit Company</a>. Lee's was particularly interesting as it was setup like an old prohibition speak easy. You walked into what looks like a men's formal wear store and have to knock on a wall to be let into the bar. <p></p><p>It was a late night. A fun one. But we might have had a little too much to drink as the four of us had to wake up the next morning early to catch a train to the top of Pike's Peak. </p><p><br /></p><p>We were all feeling maybe a little groggy in the morning. I wouldn't say I was hungover, but I also wouldn't say I wasn't hungover. </p><p>There's almost no parking around Pike's Peak, but driving around for 30 minutes looking for a spot was much more appealing than trying to drive up to Pike's Peak. The road was long, winding, and in some areas, just wide enough for one and a half cars. </p><p>I've learned as I've gotten older, trains are my preferred mode of transportation. I don't get motion sick, I can wander around and do whatever I want, and in a few hours I magically appear where I need to be. The train to the top of Pike's Peak was an hour ride through beautiful mountains, where we saw all sorts of mountain goats, waterfalls, </p><p>Pike's Peak gives you a perspective. To think that humans summitted this 100 years ago without the help of machines. Truly inspirational. The 30 minutes you got at the peak was not enough to have the existential crisis you should have standing at the top of the world. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4VGbSkXaV8sPLYTP_y9FrIR6HpVGaD7ERYDvzHK4TM45LZHppDCxl6UJhcmDUUb3hatNm8mEjrk9h_ZYkiFZ_W-tOkXhKiubopRjHYr8u3QlUhIuOW4y_4R4ihzlE1vyZqHxmoRxd6Y855Dx65ubb5C04eDA3hbZK3RDIbrdEqJhiQ1CnIYBukdwLpA/s9418/PXL_20210911_170835213.PANO.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1616" data-original-width="9418" height="103" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4VGbSkXaV8sPLYTP_y9FrIR6HpVGaD7ERYDvzHK4TM45LZHppDCxl6UJhcmDUUb3hatNm8mEjrk9h_ZYkiFZ_W-tOkXhKiubopRjHYr8u3QlUhIuOW4y_4R4ihzlE1vyZqHxmoRxd6Y855Dx65ubb5C04eDA3hbZK3RDIbrdEqJhiQ1CnIYBukdwLpA/w598-h103/PXL_20210911_170835213.PANO.jpg" width="598" /></a></div><br /><p>The four of us stopped at <a href="https://www.cerberusbrewingco.com/">Cerberus Brewing</a> on the way home to grab lunch and a beer. Was great beer. I wish we had more time to try some more. </p><p><a href="https://www.facebook.com/franklycoffee.co">Frankly Coffee</a> became the group of sixes go to coffee shop. We lived off of their incredible brews. I'd go as far to say that our trip was sponsored by their go-go juice. </p><p>We all managed to get back to the Air BNB around lunch, took naps, and then back to downtown to have some pizza. Mariah, Nick, Sal, and I sort of wandered the town square. The weather was perfect. Everyone was out. There was live music on every corner. It was the most alive we saw Colorado Springs. </p><p>That night, Sal and I went to a wine bar, again, cleverly called <a href="https://labaguette-co.com/upstairs-wine-bar/">Upstairs Wine Bar.</a>.. because it's upstairs... and a wine bar. It was sort of a nice, low key way to end the trip. Sal and I tend to chat up the locals whenever we travel, it's one of my favorite parts of being somewhere else. We met Zach, the bartender. </p><p>Zach was born in Colorado Springs, had moved to Utah and Arizona briefly, but made his way back home. It was interesting hearing stories from Zach because I got the feeling that not many people in Colorado Springs were born in Colorado Springs. </p><p>Zach told us a tale of a city with an identity crisis. The people that actually live in Colorado Springs tend to be environmentalist. People that love climbing rocks and running rapids in kayaks. People that both want to be left alone, but welcome you into their house for a beer. </p><p>And then there's the military bases that surround the city, bringing in thousands of "patriotic dipshits" (his word, not mine) that like to start fights and puff their chest forcing the locals to "respect the troops." He said over the past 30 years, the vibe has completely changed as 24 hour news cycles and the internet have collectively broke the brains of everyone in America. The type of people that generally run around town on military leave, expect to be treated like kings. </p><p>It was a pleasant conversation over a bottle of a delicious French Pinot. </p><p>The next morning was Nick, Mariah, Sal, and my last in Colorado Springs. Mom and Steve were staying for one more day of relaxation. We decided to all get a nice breakfast on the way out of town and that's exactly what we did. </p><p>The weather was perfect. The town was still asleep. <a href="https://bontonscafe.com/">Bon Ton's Cafe</a> was ran by an immigrant with Communist Leanings. (At least the books for sale would suggest it) And damn, just the best send off meal I could've asked for. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimk1BV6xHBNCeJyr_4s3d1LONOjhtD7HBbmGYpa_Nonv4-EnpuAa6Bciox3wSJh18JacescB2FKO5v2od7v7NkN5OypALy3XNYxfX_aQ9o4SgveWSq30O2wowxvvyuWVwckgkJim7JC3hwfG6ijsXwrUG3HEQV6HsE20R_6ucRo9kd1UNY2PqE9pDPzg/s4032/PXL_20210912_180655649_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimk1BV6xHBNCeJyr_4s3d1LONOjhtD7HBbmGYpa_Nonv4-EnpuAa6Bciox3wSJh18JacescB2FKO5v2od7v7NkN5OypALy3XNYxfX_aQ9o4SgveWSq30O2wowxvvyuWVwckgkJim7JC3hwfG6ijsXwrUG3HEQV6HsE20R_6ucRo9kd1UNY2PqE9pDPzg/s320/PXL_20210912_180655649_2.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>We took our time, we talked, phones were away, and we just had a very slow and casual breakfast. Perfect ending to a quick trip. <p></p><p>This was during the height of Covid 19, but right when we were trying to pretend like things were normal again. So the airport was wild. Everyone had to wear masks. I was impressed with how many people angrily wore their masks around their chin, not really covering their nose, or like this comically angry man, bought a mask that said, "Government Mandated Muzzle."<br /></p><p>Finally getting this blog over the finish line has me thinking there might yet be hope to get the Seattle and Portland blogs finished. </p>Djs9pdhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02943568496259216137noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7567748419855549177.post-57579523690864429982022-08-30T10:46:00.006-05:002022-08-30T10:48:36.683-05:00Sir James Buffet<p>I've learned over the years that an artist you like can completely break your heart by being a scumbag. Warning, the intro to this does mention pedophilia, but it gets light hearted after the break. Just down to the sentence that starts with "I'm not a huge Jimmy Buffett fan" if you want to skip the bad stuff. </p><p>My favorite band through most of college and well into my adulthood was Brand New. The music was interesting, it was perfectly balanced between yearning and loneliness, the isolation that comes from a world that seems to be spinning out of control, and anger that no one in power wants to change it. </p><p>And then it turned out that Jesse Lacey, the singer, had been <a href="https://www.npr.org/sections/therecord/2017/11/13/563807010/brand-new-frontman-jesse-lacey-apologizes-for-sexual-misconduct-postpones-tour" target="_blank">soliciting pictures</a> from underaged girls for years. </p><p>One of my recent favorites, the Arcade Fire, now has their own lead singer issues who is being accused of being<a href="https://pitchfork.com/news/arcade-fires-win-butler-accused-of-sexual-misconduct-by-multiple-women-frontman-responds/"> a sex pest.</a> (At the very least to of age women for now)</p><p>And it's not just a "now" issue. There's stories of David Bowie in weird situations with underaged women. Bill Cosby, Michael Jackson, Don Henley, Elvis, the list keeps going. Ranker has a whole list of <a href="https://www.ranker.com/list/famous-people-charged-with-sex-crimes/celebrity-lists">sex pest celebrities</a>. </p><p>So this is where the blog changes direction. Like 90 degree, complete deflection into another topic. </p><span><a name='more'></a></span><p>I'm not a huge Jimmy Buffett fan. His music is background music to me. You won't see my bobbing my head to Cheeseburger in Paradise. There's a time and place for Jimmy Buffet... and that is on a boat, which is where I was when we were listening to him. </p><p>I don't remember how the conversation started, but the boat was generally grooving to Dr. Sir. James Buffet. </p><p>We talked about Margaritaville, both the resort and restaurant. </p><p>We discussed how impressive it is a man has had a 60 year career writing songs specifically about vibing on or near beaches. </p><p>And then I had this sinking feeling, maybe behind those good beach vibes, there was a dark character. Maybe he's murdered someone. Maybe he's a sex pest. Because anyone that has been this popular for this long has to have some skeletons out in the open.</p><p>So, in the middle of this lake, while drinking an ice cold beer, I had one of the passengers on the boat pull up the dreaded <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jimmy_Buffett#Controversies">Wikipedia Controversy</a> section on Jimmy. </p><p>Well, what I found out was, Jimmy Buffet might be one of the COOLEST PEOPLE TO EVER LIVE. </p><p><b>Controversy 1: "God's Own Drunk"</b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/i_3yfyhmNc8" width="320" youtube-src-id="i_3yfyhmNc8"></iframe></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>The son of comedian Lord Buckley brought a $11 million lawsuit against Buffett, claiming he not only stole parts of the monologue from Buckley's "A Tribute to Buckley" and then alleged that Buffett's "blasphemous" rendition presented a distorted impression of Lord Buckley. </p><p>Buffett was barred from playing the song live until the lawsuit was settled. So he would get to the part in his set where he would normally play this and would instead play a song he wrote especially for Buckley called "The Lawyer and the Asshole."</p><p><b>Controversy 2: Drug Smuggling and Bullet Dodging</b></p><p>In 1996, Jimmy Buffett's private plane was shot at by <a href="https://buffettworld.com/incidents/jamaica-mistaica/">Jamaican authorities</a> because they thought he was a drug smuggler. </p><p>That on it's own, is a story worthy of telling. But to make it more crazy, he had Bono from U2, Bono's entire family, and Chris Blackwell founder of Island records and person who made Reggae music available to the world. </p><p>Other than a few bullet holes, not much damage was sustained. Jimmy Buffett, in what I'm starting to see as a theme, wrote a song about it called "Jamaica Mistaica."</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/4ov6E19_plA" width="320" youtube-src-id="4ov6E19_plA"></iframe></div><br /><p><b>Controversy 3: Math Suks</b></p><p>This is barely a controversy. Buffett wrote a song about struggling as a student to understand math and a bunch of math nerds got mad. </p><p>The real controversy here is how boring the song is. It sounds likes something an off brand Muppet show would sing. </p><p><b>Controversy 4: A Sailor Mouthed Ejection</b></p><p>In 2001, Jimmy was <a href="https://abcnews.go.com/US/story?id=94188&page=1">kicked out of a basketball game</a> between the Miami Heat and the New York Knicks. Pat Riley, the coach for the Miami Heat, asked the ref if "he has ever been a Parrothead in his life" and the ref took that as an insult... because he did not know Parrothead is a term of endearment for Buffett fans. </p><p>Jimmy used the ejection (wasn't a true ejection since he watched the rest of the game from the tunnel) to rile up the Miami fans for the final 2 minute push of the game. </p><p><b>Controversy 5: B-Vitamins</b></p><p>Jimmy Buffett is not known as a party guy. /s</p><p>In 2006, French authorities detained Jimmy believing his private jet was carrying over 100 pills of the party drug ecstasy</p><p>A spokesperson for Buffett said the pills were an unnamed prescription drug with Buffett saying they were B-Vitamins. </p><p>He paid $300 and was released. </p><p>Ultimately what I'm saying is, on this random August day, out on a boat, I sort of became a Parrothead, not because of the music, but because of the stories. And I will be purchasing a Jimmy Buffet autobiography and reading it while drinking a margarita. </p><p><br /></p>Djs9pdhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02943568496259216137noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7567748419855549177.post-79313580166353213292022-07-20T13:28:00.001-05:002022-07-20T13:28:26.621-05:00Batman... no Catman... no Batcat<p> Hi! It's me again. It's been a long time. </p><p>Honestly, I have about two dozen drafts written up about various topics, but almost all of them dig deep into the history of the anti-vax movement and where the dark money to continue to push it via media comes from, why banning abortions is a terrible idea, how we have failed at being stewards of the planet, etc. </p><p>Lot of things that got me fired up, depressed, and generally unfocused. And honestly, you probably don't want to hear most of these rants anyway. Maybe someday in person, we can talk about them, but via a blog, I don't know that it helps much. (Maybe I'll circle back, never know)</p><p>I also started writing up my Hawaii travel blog. I will return to that and finish it someday soon, but the post vacation insanity has kept me from having the focus to really do it justice. </p><p>So today, I instead naturally want to talk about bats. </p><span><a name='more'></a></span><p>We bought an old house because we love the beauty of buildings before aluminum siding became the norm. We like the layouts. We like the weird modernizations that are retrofitted into this old house like air conditioning. </p><p>One feature our old house has is coal burning fireplaces that apparently are still in good enough shape to use if we wanted to burn coal. (We don't). The chimneys can be seen from the roof of our house. Three stacks, with large enough holes for critters to sometimes get lost in. </p><p>Maybe every 3 or 4 years, we would get a random bat that got lost in our chimney and we would find them hanging out inside the house. </p><p>Usually I would open a door or window to the outside, put on a sweatshirt, helmet, mask, gloves, grab a broom, and give the bat a couple of pokes until they wake up, take flight, and find their way out. (I, of course, scream the entire time there's a scared bat freaking out in a small room that I am also locked in)</p><p>This usually works and our problem is solved within 10-15 minutes. </p><p>Well, it's obvious that climate change is happening. Every summer we're consistently breaking record highs, days over 100 degrees, how many tornados we see, the severity of tornado we see. Talking to our pest control guy, this means that all of those critters we want to keep out or our houses (mice, bats, snakes, bugs) are trying to get into our houses to get some relief. Bats specifically like to find cool airstreams at the end of the night to find a suitable cave. You know, cool airstreams like an air conditioner.</p><p>This means, instead of seeing one bat every few years, we're seeing a few bats, every year. </p><p>About six weeks ago, our sweet little calico Maestro, caught herself a bat. I was on the phone with my dad, I saw her playing with something on the stairs, I thought it was a sock. I bent over to pet her head and grab my sock only to find out... she straight murdered a bat and was just poking the body. </p><p>I snagged the scruff of her neck, tossed her into Sal's office, grabbed a shovel, put the bat into a zip lock bag, and Sal took both kittens and the bat to the vet for a rabies shot. </p><p>We sort of thought, great, bat for the year is done. Should be good until at least next year. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2pFTgbQLdtbj5yPZ3rri3fJafsTnZkiCg2OCx5hBSS05BZH19cYnLLxphgdfZAMuUrLOamgJC2TNWrnUt0874RcBTrPX-6sxheeX-r6lHMDTY1jXVn_yo2VOwR8CV-XEiEwzyOWeQEOosZDL4Op1wE-B-_wJKeCoNj2eGIN1ezz6VSOTFaPXI1aSeJw/s4032/PXL_20220719_000032771.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2pFTgbQLdtbj5yPZ3rri3fJafsTnZkiCg2OCx5hBSS05BZH19cYnLLxphgdfZAMuUrLOamgJC2TNWrnUt0874RcBTrPX-6sxheeX-r6lHMDTY1jXVn_yo2VOwR8CV-XEiEwzyOWeQEOosZDL4Op1wE-B-_wJKeCoNj2eGIN1ezz6VSOTFaPXI1aSeJw/s320/PXL_20220719_000032771.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>Wrong. WRONG. So WRONG. <p></p><p>Sal caught Moxie trying to basically climb our window Monday morning. When she looked up, she saw this guy barely hanging between our curtain and window frame. </p>Unfortunately, we found this first thing in the morning. We like bats. They eat a ton of mosquitos around us. But I don't like bats inside my house.<div><br /></div><div>Also, most bats are protected animals, so you can't really go around killing them or sending them out during the middle of the day in the heat where a predator will definitely get them. </div><div><br /></div><div>So for a full work day, we just had to hang out and pretend like there wasn't a bat that a cat could get at any moment or start flying around panicked, creating more chaos. </div><div><br /></div><div>Situation sounds setup for fun right? You don't even know the half of it. </div><div><br /></div><div>A few hours after our bat was discovered, our kitchen was delivered. So we now were going to be trying to shoe a bat outside, while dealing with this. </div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirffD-WKlAkBEpMi138Jbfa9ayG5HygYsPWwe6ufQ19PMpRSSK-NSHShUO1Ue76R-Raz6ytsjf7D7J_1dEde9c0zUDLWk-7xIaLIarMCJSj5Nt3CSCDLIfdinudlgU5j412Hfvu5oDhCLszn_2A7QgTxBK_EkOcKmNQt7tsYdpnq-P4FgBxDIvmrUKLA/s4032/PXL_20220718_172051631.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirffD-WKlAkBEpMi138Jbfa9ayG5HygYsPWwe6ufQ19PMpRSSK-NSHShUO1Ue76R-Raz6ytsjf7D7J_1dEde9c0zUDLWk-7xIaLIarMCJSj5Nt3CSCDLIfdinudlgU5j412Hfvu5oDhCLszn_2A7QgTxBK_EkOcKmNQt7tsYdpnq-P4FgBxDIvmrUKLA/s320/PXL_20220718_172051631.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>Sal and I spent about an hour re-arranging these boxes to give ourselves a few hallways, but it was still a very crowded room with tons of places to hide. <div><br /></div><div>We spent most the day reading up on bats and how to get rid of them and when you can safely send them out of the house. We found out that most bats wake up and hour or two before they go hunting. They usually like to fly around their cave and sort of wake up until dusk when they go outside and start eating bugs. </div><div><br /></div><div>We sat down to dinner, cautiously watching the window knowing we had a timebomb on our hand. When was this bat going to start flying around it's temporary cave?</div><div><br /></div><div>Luckily, he was not an early riser. </div><div><br /></div><div>As tradition dictates, Sal and I put on all of our gear. We opened the front and back doors and put the cats in the TV room. We closed all other doors, trying to make an environment where the bat could easily echo-locate an exit. </div><div><br /></div><div>I pulled the curtain down. The bat didn't stir. I was starting to fear that this one was dead as well. </div><div><br /></div><div>I gave it a couple pokes with the broom. He moved one wing and sort of dug in deeper, but ultimately did not want to wake up. </div><div><br /></div><div>I poked him a few more times and finally, like Batman, the wings went straight out and the bat defied gravity and went from sleep to full on speed. He did about a dozen circles, I'm on the floor in the kitchen near the back door, Sal is in the middle of the room, trying to track him. </div><div><br /></div><div>I don't know if you've ever seen a bat fly, but they are hard to track. There's some sort of visual mirage that happens where certain angles they sort of disappear. </div><div><br /></div><div>We lost him... but I heard a light thump. I didn't think he made it out. So we start patrolling the house and I find him upstairs, laying in the middle of the hallway. I'm not sure if it's dead or stunned, but I know I need something to scoop it up. </div><div><br /></div><div>I go to the garage, my normal bat scooping shovel is covered in mud from gardening. I find an old flattened box, but am unable to get the bat onto it. I start digging around the basement and find a snow shovel. I think this might be the perfect scooping device... but I never get to test that theory. </div><div><br /></div><div>As I come through the basement door, Sal screams as if we're under sniper fire. The bat is up and he's freaked out and flying around. He immediately heads toward me and my survival instincts kick in and I hit the ground hard. </div><div><br /></div><div>We lost track of him. We don't know if he made it out the front or back door and now there's an added variable of the basement door being open. </div><div><br /></div><div>Sal and I spent the next 90 minutes searching every corner of the basement, main floor, and second floor with flashlights. We can't find him. We feel uneasy, but we decide it's time to give up the search and assume he got out. </div><div><br /></div><div>We watched some dumb reality TV to sort of calm down again. We were both finally feeling like, "OK, maybe we will be able to sleep" when we heard the absolute worst screeching noise we've ever heard. </div><div><br /></div><div>That little murderer Maestro had the bat by it's wing and the bat was fighting like hell to get away. </div><div><br /></div><div>Sal immediately goes into protective mom mode and sort of corrals Maestro toward our open bedroom, the nearest door that goes outside. She screams at Maestro and eventually the bat is released. Sal jumps out of the bedroom with Maestro, both freaked out and breathing hard. </div><div><br /></div><div>There's an issue. The bat is still in our room. Crash is laying right next to the bat. The ceiling fan is running (not good for bat's sense of flight) and our window unit air conditioner is running (the noise, also not good for the bat's sense of flight.) And even though the balcony door leads outside, it is currently closed. </div><div><br /></div><div>I put on all my gear again. I sort of cracked the door and I see the bat laying on the ground maybe a foot from Crash. I reach in to grab the cat and the bat jumps up and starts freaking out. I grab Crash by her neck and drag her out and shut the door. </div><div><br /></div><div>I gather myself. Army crawl into the room and turn off the ceiling fan. I start looking around and finally spot the bat laying on my wrist brace next to our bed. I continue my army crawling to turn off the AC. I crawl over to the balcony door and open it. I make myself as small as possible across the room where I can still see the bat. </div><div><br /></div><div>I see him twitching. His ears are perked up. I can tell he's sort of mapping the room and seeing if there's danger anywhere. I'm hoping he just flies out, but instead he snuggles as hard as possible to my wrist brace. </div><div><br /></div><div>After a few minutes when I realize he's not leaving on his own, I army crawl back over to him, pick up my wrist guard. He just hangs out on it as I move him across the room. I set it on the balcony and shut the door. The adventure is over. The bat was gone the next morning. </div><div><br /></div><div>We sanitized everything in the house with bleach. </div><div><div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p></div></div>Djs9pdhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02943568496259216137noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7567748419855549177.post-61324645957046756042021-10-10T18:27:00.001-05:002021-10-10T18:27:23.182-05:00The Observer<p>I write like I'm a camera in any situation. Hovering above the characters in the room, I'm above the drama, just observing. (When I say "above the drama," I don't mean I'm better than the drama, just that I witness it from far away) When I think back on memories, my eye sight is from the corner of the room, near the ceiling. I'm in a tree, the unseen observer. I'm in the back seat of the car, watching the driver and I have a conversation. </p><span><a name='more'></a></span><p>I've always been told the way I write is very movie scene like, and I think this is largely because of how I re-see my life. When I'm trying to write a fictional scene, I'm usually pulling from something I witnessed. The weird details I notice make it in. Things like:</p><p></p><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>There was a third of a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon, laying on it's side, behind the nightstand. </li><li>The wallpaper matched the lining of his suit jacket. </li><li>The spirited child had dog poop on his right shoe, and every third step he sort of dragged his foot as if trying to clear the poop off onto the linoleum floor in the kitchen. </li></ul><p></p><p>I'll hang back, sort of observe everyone in the room, take notice of body language, find the most interesting stories. </p><p>I was talking to my therapist about this because she had noticed I describe every situation as if I wasn't a participant. She's trying to get me to understand what I was actually feeling rather than tell her the story of the events. It's been tough. There are situations where I honestly can't remember what I was feeling if anything. </p><p>My therapist tries her hardest to force me to re-evaluate what I observed and zero in on myself. </p><p>It was during one of these scenarios where I brought up home movies. We had a bunch digitized a few years ago and every few times I head over to my mom's house, we put them on. </p><p>There's one other writer in the family and that's my grandpa Dobyns. And as we move through Easter, July 4th, family reunions, Christmas, I noticed something about grandpa, he was almost always in the back of the room with a real camera, as an observer, an overseer. </p><p>Watch any of the family movies, he's either the one behind the camera, or appears on other people's videos while holding a camera. </p><p>I would be interested to know if other writers saw the world this way. I have to imagine it depends on your writing style. Some people like big ideas and lose focus on the details. Some like to focus on the dialogue, and I bet they are people that engage deeply in conversation. </p>Djs9pdhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02943568496259216137noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7567748419855549177.post-35836080317193516212021-10-04T21:02:00.002-05:002021-10-04T21:02:38.420-05:00Live Music Will Save the World<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3ufLOr4exylHErmcSp24Cch6bY9Kav0e_DmGQrqvtf579iDauHYFi_6QUkL4GOOCZ28R66OoA4z-4iEP9dv-ECr9DsIQJeSw_VDeY5vSmcb6jJia2Bx65l9oTPLsDbHvXvDDW1jaiho9l/s4032/PXL_20210919_030221794.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3ufLOr4exylHErmcSp24Cch6bY9Kav0e_DmGQrqvtf579iDauHYFi_6QUkL4GOOCZ28R66OoA4z-4iEP9dv-ECr9DsIQJeSw_VDeY5vSmcb6jJia2Bx65l9oTPLsDbHvXvDDW1jaiho9l/s320/PXL_20210919_030221794.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />A few weekends ago, we took a giant risk with some of our friends and went to a music festival in Chicago. It felt like a trip that took about 9 years from start to finish. <p></p><p>It was June 2020, we were having our first socially distanced outside hangout with some of our best friends. It was already a very exciting day. The pandemic was raging on, it seemed like half the country was determined to keep it going, and we were losing hope while watching movies over Zoom with our friends. </p><p>But on this day, we got together on a deck, sitting 10 feet apart, yelling toward each other as we drank White Claws. We were seeing real people in real life. Ryan broached the topic first. </p><p>Riot Fest was offering incredibly discounted tickets for the 2020 Riot Fest with a disclaimer that it may get cancelled or moved depending on </p><p></p><ol style="text-align: left;"><li>If we had a vaccine</li><li>If enough of the country got the vaccine to actually create herd immunity</li><li>If we got close enough to herd immunity for the virus to not mutate</li></ol><div>Only number 1 happened, so Riot Fest was pushed to 2021. And based on how things were going in 2021, I was expecting Riot Fest to not happen this year. But Ryan sort of said, it would be nice to have a little hope and it was low risk. So we bought tickets. </div><span><a name='more'></a></span><div><br /></div><div>Well, Riot Fest happened despite about half the bands I wanted to see dropping for safety reasons. It was still so needed. </div><div><br /></div><div>We traveled to Chicago by train. I would highly recommend it. It took maybe 30 minutes longer than driving, but you were able to read or play Switch, while sipping a beer. </div><div><br /></div><div>Douglas Park is off of the pink line in Chicago. It's one of the least popular lines. It took a bit to travel the 5 or so miles to the concert venue. Douglas Park is huge, Riot Fest managed to fit 5 stages and a carnival within. </div><div><br /></div><div>It was beautiful except for two things. First, there wasn't a lick of shade anywhere. The sun burned many people. Luckily, I married a red head who is always prepared. SPF 70 was out and applied to the skin constantly.</div><div><br /></div><div>Second, having a stage setup in front of a baseball field while thousands of people kick up dust and dirt wasn't exactly fun. I was covered in dust, head to toe, every day. </div><div><br /></div><div>But people... we saw live music!</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Friday bands I saw</b></div><div><div>Meg Meyers</div><div>Circa Survive</div><div>Anti-Flag</div><div>Thrice</div><div>Lawrence Arms</div><div>Sublime with Rome</div><div>Coheed and Cambria</div><div>Circle Jerks</div><div>Dirty Heads (for Medusa)</div><div>Smashing Pumpkins</div><div><br /></div><div>I'm not a huge Meg Meyers or Circa Survive fan, but the first chord was played and I lifted 35 feet from the ground. I felt like all of the anxiety and depression from the past year was being ripped from my body while my soul was being healed. </div><div><br /></div><div>This was the most normal thing I had done since March 2020. </div><div><br /></div><div>Anti-Flag was an early highlight. They blasted through the hits while interspersing discussions about what it means to be an empathetic person in the internet angry world. They played One Trillion Dollars while the entire crowd sang along. It was the most connected I'd felt to people in... well, 18 months. </div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/YD3RNouwvOU" width="320" youtube-src-id="YD3RNouwvOU"></iframe></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Thrice had released an album that day and just tore it apart. They sounded tight, like they had been locked in a cargo container just practicing for this day.</div><div><br /></div><div>Sublime was a band that was featured heavily in my high school days, but sadly the original lead singer died of a heroin overdose before I was able to see them. Rome is the replacement singer, and I couldn't tell you the difference. His voice was spot on, the energy was right, and hearing them sing Santeria and Bad Fish just about brought a tear to my eye. </div><div><br /></div><div>And then Coheed and Cambria played their brand of emo metal while the sky opened up. Lightning seemed to be part of the stage show, flashing at all the right moments. </div><div><br /></div><div>We attempted to get home by the designated train line for the festival. Several hundred people crowded on the platform. Train after train was coming by, filled to the max, skipping our stop. People were riding the west bound train two stops, then turning around and getting on the east bound train that went downtown. </div><div><br /></div><div>It was getting scary, so we ditched out, walked for 30 minutes, and got an $80 Lyft. </div><div><br /></div><div>We found out the next morning, we missed someone falling on the track getting electrocuted by about 30 minutes. The witnesses all wrote of their traumatic event in the Reddit thread. I'm thankful we didn't have to see it.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Saturday</b></div><div>Bayside</div><div>Rancid</div><div>Andrew WK</div><div>Taking Back Sunday</div><div>Run the Jewels</div><div><br /></div><div>Saturday, we lazily made our way back to the festival. We met up with my friend Lindsay for her birthday, road the line for a few stops, and then there was an announcement that they were working on the tracks and we would be stopped for an indeterminant amount of time. We jumped off the train and had a couple beers and played a card game at one of those places where you pay by the ounce and pour your own drinks. </div><div><br /></div><div>It was relaxing to sort of just slowly make our way to the event.</div><div><br /></div><div>We made it to the festival about 90 minutes after we wanted to. But the lineup Saturday night was incredible. Rancid just played a non-stop 45 minute block of bangers. Taking Back Sunday featured heavily on the older albums. And as always, Run the Jewels unified tens of thousands of people. </div><div><br /></div><div>We skipped the pink line on Saturday and instead walked 25 minutes to a blue line. It was still packed, but we managed to get on the first train that came by. </div><div><br /></div><div><b>Sunday</b></div><div>Thursday</div><div>Anthrax</div><div>Simple Plan</div><div>Anthrax</div><div>Knuckle Puck</div><div>Devo</div><div>Flaming Lips</div><div>The Weak Days</div><div>New Found Glory</div><div>Slipknot</div></div><div><br /></div><div>Sunday turned into our marathon day. We had an early brunch and headed straight for the park. The weather couldn't have been better. When I was looking at the schedule, Sunday had the least amount of bands I absolutely had to see, but it turned out to be a great day.</div><div><br /></div><div>Thursday played a heartfelt set where the singer openly talked about his heroin addiction, what it meant to be four years sober, and how the fans that have stuck by them for two decades are what keeps him going. </div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTG5T9OGdgql3288cl8qtFUiqXYQtdoYTGdz_OfrEw9YWGQno8VUrNaxLvl-zh2F9Lhc2K7lShvTdzPmzyQbQjgvFMkVUMkaU9fhGIaFcpMloIyOqkfPOuRqVaflZ-g4J1w73bik_43-oD/s4032/PXL_20210920_013654875.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTG5T9OGdgql3288cl8qtFUiqXYQtdoYTGdz_OfrEw9YWGQno8VUrNaxLvl-zh2F9Lhc2K7lShvTdzPmzyQbQjgvFMkVUMkaU9fhGIaFcpMloIyOqkfPOuRqVaflZ-g4J1w73bik_43-oD/s320/PXL_20210920_013654875.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /></div><div>Simple Plan was the complete opposite vibe. Just a happy-go-lucky party. </div><div><br /></div><div>The Flaming Lips were always a band I wanted to see, but wouldn't probably pay to see them headline. The singer came out in a giant inflatable ball and it muffled his mic. </div><div><br /></div><div>And unbelievably, Slipknot was incredible. Not a band I wouldn't ever thought of seeing before. For those of you that don't know, Slipknot is a 9 piece metal band that all wear scary masks on stage. They have three drummers. It was stimulating. </div><div><br /></div>I'm thankful we were able to do this. It was a risk, but one we felt was necessary. We were vaccinated. We wore masks. We distanced when possible. And we isolated when we got back. We did all the things you're supposed to do and managed to stay Covid free. <br /><div><br /></div><p></p>Djs9pdhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02943568496259216137noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7567748419855549177.post-1346339630953535732021-08-30T20:14:00.000-05:002021-08-30T20:14:15.082-05:00Better Life Through Science<p>After a very brutal six months on acne medication when I was 15 and after seeing the effects of one of my high-school buddies being overly medicated, I sort of went through life trying to avoid medications when I felt it wasn't necessary. </p><p>After I broke my leg, I had to detox from painkillers and muscle relaxers. It was one of the worst things I've ever gone through. Even worst than the surgery. Cold sweats, phantom pains my body would produce so I would want to take more, crying for no reason, nausea. I can see why people move on from pain killers to heroin. Once the dosage doesn't do it for you anymore, you will do anything not to feel the way detoxing from them feels.</p><p>I found a local south city doctor through an old friend of mine at Wells Fargo. My old doctor was fine. I liked him, he tended to tell me to do Yoga to fix most things. I liked that he didn't immediately jump to pills. And that worked for me when I was in my mid-20s. I felt like everything was still in front of me, so no matter how hard things were, I would bounce back. I was invincible!</p><span><a name='more'></a></span><p>Well, as I got older, I realized sometimes you can't yoga your way out of things. Sometimes you need enough pills to justify having a weekly pill container. And I could not get my doctor on board. "No no no, what you need to do... actually, hold on" starts writing on what I think is a prescription pad, hands me a piece of paper, "this Yoga you can find on YouTube for free. Do this three times a week."</p><p>There were times where I also felt like he did un-necessary tests because I had good insurance. I know he saw a lot of people that couldn't really afford a doctor, so I thought maybe he was using my insurance to offset some of their costs. But our incredibly messed up medical industrial complex is too big a topic to take on right now.</p><p>Been searching for a new doctor for a couple years now. Insurance changed once or twice and generally just couldn't find anyone that looked promising. </p><p>There's been something in the back of my mind that hasn't felt right in five years. In all honesty, it was when I was laid off at Wells Fargo. There was some sort of betrayal by a mega-corporation. One that while I worked there I knew was against everything I believed in. But when you have student loans the size I did and medical bills the size we did, it's very easy to justify selling out for a steady paycheck to barely pay the bills.</p><p>I won one of Wells Fargo's most prestigious awards. Roughly 50 people out of 88,000 employees get this award, and I did it by working overtime, rebuilding their entire documentation library.</p><p>In the back of my mind though, I knew thanks to the Wells Fargo 2020 initiative, there would be layoffs. It was marketed as if we were going to build the strongest team possible, but everyone knew it meant that they were going to cut and slash staff from the several companies they gobbled up during the 2008 financial crisis. </p><p>But I thought I could outwork the layoffs. I would be a survivor. </p><p>And then one faithful Tuesday, we all called in for our team call. When an HR rep was introduced on our call, we knew what was happening, but not to the severity it happened. They shit canned the entire department. All 12 of us out of a job because we trained up our replacements in the Philippines so well, that the wheels of capitalism saw a way to save the company a couple hundred of thousand of dollars in salary and benefits by getting rid of us. </p><p>I never recovered from that. I've carried this sense of anxiety and betrayal with me for the past five years. It's been a tightness in my chest and shoulders. And it's shown itself in full blown anxiety attacks where I think I'm having a heart attack. </p><p>I started with therapy back in November. That's when I started realizing how depressed and stressed and burned out I've been. I've been able to trace it to events in my life that I sort of survived through, but never dealt with. </p><p>I found a new doctor and she's great. She talked to me for 45 minutes. She had most of my family history memorized from the questionnaire I filled out. We talked about my top concerns, discussed my day to day life, all while she poked, prodded, and wrote various numbers down.</p><p>Her immediate assessment is I have Anxiety, Depression, or ADHD. Maybe all three, maybe one of them is causing the other two. We don't know, but luckily there is a wonder drug which is prescribed for all three and doesn't have any side effects. </p><p>She took my blood and sent me on my way with my new prescription. </p><p>Smash cut to a week later, I get an email saying, "Yo, we called in a prescription. You need to go pick it up and chuck a handful of them into your mouth on the way home. You've got high cholesterol and you may have a heart attack if you keep these levels up."</p><p>It's been a few months on this cholesterol drug, I've been generally eating healthy, working out like crazy, I've lost 12 lbs since my last doctors appointment. </p><p>I have my follow-up blood work this week. I'm feeling pretty good about it. My chest is generally less tight. I haven't had an anxiety attack since January. </p><p>The doc says most of my cholesterol is likely related to genetics based on my weight, how I eat, and how much I work out. So I'm sort of hoping science can win against my DNA. </p>Djs9pdhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02943568496259216137noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7567748419855549177.post-62650291499283659722021-07-01T20:15:00.004-05:002021-07-01T22:14:07.986-05:00Newbie, a "Story"<div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj667OXuk4PgFKvADgkIjenDzoRvF8O0kAP9JXouWr0QcxvbewMW_KLkvN5boLC2gx2h_h-yrjOKNcbhAqgvQvUjMpsLqtvfDqPbtzlJsfW91T9KoHbXS40E9pXLVn8_hNNQaFQ08_8rO9w/s2048/PXL_20210628_225428023.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj667OXuk4PgFKvADgkIjenDzoRvF8O0kAP9JXouWr0QcxvbewMW_KLkvN5boLC2gx2h_h-yrjOKNcbhAqgvQvUjMpsLqtvfDqPbtzlJsfW91T9KoHbXS40E9pXLVn8_hNNQaFQ08_8rO9w/s320/PXL_20210628_225428023.jpg" /></a></div><br />Tragedy seems to come in waves. You can have years of happiness and luck, your grief receptors get dull, and then when the wave hits, you don't expect it. Every time something happens, you feel a cosmic fist punch you right in the throat and while you're recovering from being stunned, your brain has time to think, "well god dammit."</div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>For the second time in 3 months, I'm doing the incredibly sad and confusing ride for the final vet visit.</div><div><br /></div><span><a name='more'></a></span><div><br /></div><div><b>June 23rd (Wednesday)</b></div><div><b><br /></b></div><div>Sal got off the phone with the vet only 90 minutes ago.</div><div><br /></div><div>Newbie has lost 6-7 lbs since Slider passed away in March. At first, we thought he was losing weight because he wasn't running all over the house eating everyone's prescription food. </div><div><br /></div><div>Then after 3-4 lbs we thought, maybe he was depressed. </div><div><br /></div><div>His blood work thought there was something else going on and Slider's death was just bad timing. </div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>Newbie wouldn't do anything without Slider. Slider always showed him what was OK. Where the best places to lay were. The best places to go after birds in the yard. When to interrupt a normal work day by hopping into an unsuspecting lap.</div><div><br /></div><div>It would be only cruel poetic justice that Slider jumped into the afterlife first so that his little brother wasn't as scared. Such a hacky writing 101 easy emotional reaction that any creative writing student would've gotten a note to "do better." But here we are. Life mocking good storytelling.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbXMJe3OMxNqqI8PU4dWFlh_8ZX2bIMLd95MLozZHuznHFnbRb7uXsMevGKouOEjACH4tFmS0tZF_mnsw3YLNnOEAy3HWvwjqZnw0sRxnSV4ze-3WT1GTIwr4LY4i1I2jdf7vTwtdEgKNk/s2048/IMG_20140506_073343.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="2048" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbXMJe3OMxNqqI8PU4dWFlh_8ZX2bIMLd95MLozZHuznHFnbRb7uXsMevGKouOEjACH4tFmS0tZF_mnsw3YLNnOEAy3HWvwjqZnw0sRxnSV4ze-3WT1GTIwr4LY4i1I2jdf7vTwtdEgKNk/s320/IMG_20140506_073343.jpg" /></a></div><br />We don't know if Newbie has cancer yet. We have to take him in for more tests. But the blind optimism we tried to have about Slider isn't there. This year has just taken it from us. Three human funerals and a pet passing will do that to you. </div><div><br /></div><div>So we're currently having a night where we quietly low hum sob in different rooms. </div><div><br /></div><div>Newbie was a little harder to figure out something was wrong on. He already liked sleeping most the day and only had the stamina to play for a few minutes at a time. We liked to joke about interrupting 5th and 6th nap. So we didn't think anything was wrong until he wasn't eating every meal like it's his last.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><b>June 24th (Thursday)</b></div><div><br /></div><div>There was still a giant hole in my life. Slider took up a lot of space. The noises of his nails clacking on the floor or how he'd come up to you in the middle of the day and scream in your face because you hadn't given him attention. </div><div><br /></div><div>I always called Newbie "Sweet Boy" as a nickname. Where Slider filled a room with his bravado and forced his aggressive love, Newbie was a passive ball of positivity. He would enter the room, say something, sort of do this hunch hop against your shins on his way to take a nap or eat some food. It always made you feel comforted. He just generally changes the vibe in a room to positive. </div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPRkxdcenRSTD4MxNT47ay9uoDzjasOEYt65aU_i4oMGFkjZG1qYVE4XjTOssDlvlikBKIjTzL5WUDIf6Jt72tcRwjYsC_brDFEG4sw-ksajpGwfa19enCy_8zQClNcZiRy9pRPONwwlou/s2048/IMG_20110706_213526.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPRkxdcenRSTD4MxNT47ay9uoDzjasOEYt65aU_i4oMGFkjZG1qYVE4XjTOssDlvlikBKIjTzL5WUDIf6Jt72tcRwjYsC_brDFEG4sw-ksajpGwfa19enCy_8zQClNcZiRy9pRPONwwlou/s320/IMG_20110706_213526.jpg" /></a></div>Newbie and I were just starting to reset boundaries. He was being a bit louder. He was jumping into my lap while I worked. He was letting me pick him up for short distances. He was filling as much of Slider's role as he could and I did the same by giving him extra attention.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div>We've had Newbie since he was a super small kitten. July 4th, 2011. He was an early birthday present for Sal. We raised him when his barn mom could not. </div><div><br /></div><div>I don't know what I'm going to do if the house becomes even emptier. </div><div><br /></div><div>We haven't washed the blanket Slider slept on in his final weeks yet because every day Newbie would snuggle up against it and have a nap in the sunlight. I thought maybe it was just because it was soft, but as soon as I moved it to the hard floor, he took his nap down there. Newbie really misses Slider. Anyone that tells you animals don't have personalities or souls are just plain wrong. </div><div><br /></div><div>If animals don't go to heaven, then I don't want to go either. </div><div><br /></div><div>Slider was hard to make the ultimate decision because he was my best friend. But Newbie was a package deal. He too was my best friend, so not only is it hard to make the decision, but he's such an anxious cat that I just can't imagine putting him through it. I don't know how to make him feel at ease when he was all these weird people poking and prodding him. I don't know how I'm going to handle it if I have to take him for a final trip to the vet. </div><div><br /></div><div>Dammit, we could use Slider right now to calm Newbie down. He's so anxious and has no idea what's going on or why the people around him are constantly crying. As long as Slider was around, Newbie would just look to him on how to react. </div><div><br /></div><div>We're currently sitting on the couch watching the Canadiens vs the Knights, game 6. We've always joked that Newbie is Canadian all based on one Sunday there was an NBC game that was the Senators vs the Rangers. Erik Karlson scored and Newbie just went completely insane and started running around the house. It's looking like the Habs could win. I bet Newbie would've accepted this. He wasn't one to hold grudges. Unless you're from Boston. The Bruins can go cup less for another century.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>June 25th (Friday)</b></div><div><b><br /></b></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrXo4ZYidTFsNBgaSbx7XLbcPhIwAswwXB5s7eVNxZh2xab-TdnW0nCE2WJpK8hkINP8qpfmYVkqtWWEImwZ11ixIwevzEqRatyZrkRLrnE4j3LODSD_xdxeE0JdX5DH_G0YjJmDv6lNv_/s2048/PXL_20210625_133359788.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrXo4ZYidTFsNBgaSbx7XLbcPhIwAswwXB5s7eVNxZh2xab-TdnW0nCE2WJpK8hkINP8qpfmYVkqtWWEImwZ11ixIwevzEqRatyZrkRLrnE4j3LODSD_xdxeE0JdX5DH_G0YjJmDv6lNv_/w150-h200/PXL_20210625_133359788.jpg" width="150" /></a></div><br />Cats know. All animals do. Some intuition. Newbie typically sleeps on top of Sallie all night long.Then, when she wakes up, he comes downstairs, gets fed by me, and immediately takes a nap. </div><div><br /></div><div>Today, he stayed in bed a little longer with Sallie. I started my work day. He came down to my office and crawled into my lap. He laid on my desk like Slider used to. Newbie never did this before today, mostly because he's such a large cat, it couldn't be comfortable for him.</div><div><br /></div><div>But today, he's laying on my desk, purring like a madman and I don't want to get up and refill my water or coffee cause I don't want him to leave. </div><div><br /></div><div><b>Friday afternoon</b></div><div><br /></div><div>We just took our sweet boy to get an ultrasound by a specialist. There's some sort of stomach mass that's very large. Something like typical cat has a stomach lining of 3 mm. Newbie's is 30 mm. </div><div><br /></div><div>It's cancer. We won't know what kind or how treatable until next week. There's a low functioning kind that can be treated and we may have another 1-3 years with him. </div><div><br /></div><div>If it's high functioning, we likely have less than 90 days. </div><div><br /></div><div><b>June 28th (Monday)</b></div><div><b><br /></b></div><div>I haven't gotten a good night of sleep in about a week. You're constantly bouncing back and forth between the smallest signs that probably mean nothing. </div><div><br /></div><div>"Oh, he got an energy boost and jumped into my lap, I bet this is the low functioning cancer and we'll have him for another 3 years." </div><div><br /></div><div>"He's crying near his food dish, but not touching his food. Am I putting him through pain right now?"</div><div><br /></div><div>These labs should have to stay open 24 hours a day. People shouldn't have to wait days for information like this. </div><div><br /></div><div>We know a call is coming today or tomorrow. In the mean time, I'm staring at my phone, waiting to see a 314 number popup on the screen. Every time I catch the phone out of the corner of my eye, my anxiety grows.</div><div><br /></div><div>Newbie hopped into my lap as he normally does. My absolute favorite thing he used to do all the time was the headbutts. He'd haul his 20lb body into your lap, make some biscuits on your stomach, and then as you rubbed his neck, he'd hit you as hard as he could, right in the jaw with his head. Letting you know he loved you so much, he could give you a concussion. </div><div><br /></div><div>Newbie gave my arm a headbutt, but it was weak. The will was there, but the strength was not.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>June 29th (Tuesday)</b></div><div><br /></div><div>We still had not heard the results. I got the guts up to call the vet. It's Lymphoma, worst case scenario. </div><div><br /></div><div>We were essentially presented with 3 options</div><div><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>Do nothing: 1-2 months before the cancer starts presenting itself and causing pain</li><li>Steroids: 2-4 months before the cancer starts presenting itself and causing pain</li><li>Chemo: Maybe 2 years, best case, but only if he responds well. This will require weekly vet visits and cost a lot. </li></ul>I don't know if I can put him through any of it. I wish I could just talk to him for 10 minutes. Before Slider, I had never had to make this sort of decision. And here we are, twice in a quarter of a year.</div><div><br /></div><div>We keep our family history written on Christmas tree logs. All of the mundane stuff like who lived with you, where did you live, where did you work, goes on the front of it. </div><div><br /></div><div>The back is the memorial portion. I couldn't stop thinking about how hard it's going to be to write all of the names we need to on the back this year. Three human funerals and two pets and it's not even July.</div><div><br /></div><div>2021 is giving 2020 a run for it's money as far as hardest year ever.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>June 30th (Wednesday)</b></div><div><br /></div><div>Chemo isn't an option. The cancer is too advanced. They gave it a 30% chance it would extend his life a year. </div><div><br /></div><div>We've said we would do steroids and manage his symptoms. But we're noticing things like his breathing is getting harder and faster. He's having trouble getting comfortable. He's opting to lay on pillows. He's not leaving the second floor. He's not eating even half the calories he's supposed to. </div><div><br /></div><div>It's going to take one of Sal or I to say it out loud that it's time. But he's still so much there that it just doesn't feel right. But I know it is. </div><div><br /></div><div><div>He's so scared. He's always scared. I want him to stay at home, comfortable with us as long as he's happy, but more and more, I'm realizing he's in pain. I don't think we're going to get the 2-4 months. I think we're looking at a week tops. </div><div><br /></div><div>With Slider, we knew. He was weak, he was quiet. With Newbie, he still looks up at you like, "What's happening to me? This doesn't feel right." I'm trying not to cry around him. I don't want him to spend his limited time with us in shambles. </div></div><div><br /></div><div><b>June 30th (Evening)</b></div><div><b><br /></b></div><div>I made my second call, in complete shambles to the vet this year. We made all of the decisions and booked time with them tomorrow. </div><div><br /></div><div>A parade of friends came through to say goodbye. I couldn't face them. I had just gotten out of a really intense therapy session. One thing we learned is that I don't let myself grieve properly around people. It's something I will work on later. Tonight is for me.</div><div><br /></div><div>Eventually Newbie felt overwhelmed and came down to my office, climbed his cat tree one last time, and laid in the window. </div><div><br /></div><div>I opened it. </div><div><br /></div><div><br />I checked in on him later. He gives me a raspy meow and let's me pet his head. I'm able to keep it together, but just barely and tell him how good of a friend he was to me and how much I was going to miss him. He interrupted each sentence with a meow. And when he knows I'm done, he turns his head toward the window and lays down on his front paw.</div><div><br /></div><div>He's pulled the blanket exactly how he wants it. He's sitting in front of the window, feeling a nice warm breeze, listening to the birds chirp. The flowers on our bushes came in. It's so intensely peaceful, I just want him to pass like this. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dxPurn9vyRTUre9xtSec3q3GGG-xs4n30qz9MpxLfpTc8qJUmo4_820qOpe6sd3qw0x__a2k0q5h12Kx0aoWA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div></div><div><br /></div><div>I don't want to have to load him into the cat carrier tomorrow and take him to the vet. I can't think of a more perfect and calm way for my boy to pass and I just wish it would happen. I turn the lights out, hoping when I come down to check on him later, he's passed on. </div><div><br /></div><div>We checked on him after the sun went down. He was still in the window. We sat with him in my office for hours. Eventually the birds faded to crickets, you could head soft drops of rain hitting the leaves on our bushes. It was peaceful. There were several times where we thought we had hit the end. His breathing would slow, his eyes would close, and then some noise would wake up him. </div><div><br /></div><div>We brought him up to our bed where he quickly took his spot on top of Sal and her body pillow. I stared at his silhouette, trying to cry as quietly as I could, hoping to let him have the peace he needed.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>July 1</b></div><div><br /></div><div>We laid in bed with him this morning. He didn't pass in the night. The room was lighter and there was a sense of peace. He climbed on top of my chest one last time and gave me a headbutt and I absolutely lost my shit. It's one of those moments that I want to burn into my brain and remember on my death bed when my life flashes before my eyes. </div><div><br /></div><div>We left him to get comfortable, hoping against hope that he might pass if he's given time. We signed into work, empty shells of people, trying to pretend to care about anything else. </div><div><br /></div><div>He didn't pass. We ended up taking him to the vet. I couldn't stay in the room for Slider. I had to stay this time. Newbie needed all the comfort he could get. </div><div><br /></div><div>His eyes became suddenly very aware of his surroundings. He looked me right in the eyes and tried to console us. He was a therapy cat. Always there when we needed him.</div><div><br /></div><div>It was both the most traumatic thing to witness and relieving thing to see him actually pass.</div><div><br /></div><div>I'm just now realizing he won't meet me at the door tonight when I get home. I won't get to wear him like a weighted blanket as he stretched from my chest down to legs while I scratch his neck. I'm realizing how empty my office is now. The world is very gray and empty all of a sudden.</div><div><br /></div><div>It's Canada Day.</div><div>Cause of course it is. My dumb joke just circling around. That the day he dies on.</div><div><br /></div><div>Goodbye my Sweet Boy. Rest well. You were a very good friend. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Djs9pdhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02943568496259216137noreply@blogger.com0