The cure for the common cold

Tonight's low temprature in Flagstaff: 3 degrees F. Tonight's low temprature in Fairbanks Alaska: 10 degrees F. It is chilly to say the least. But if all I said was the least, well that wouldn't make for a very entertaining blog, now would it.

It is so cold, I can see my breath. Indoors. Outdoors it is snowing and about 12 degrees. I don't think it got abouve freezing all day to be honest. No shit, it is a bit frosty. Actually, if it starts to frost on the inside of the windows I may turn on the heater. Mostly because I am running out of blankets and sweaters. And it is hard to type with gloves on. Natural gas is expensive, and this house was constructed precisley to gain zero advantage from the suns rays, with windows arrayed so as to admit no supperflous warmth. It promises to be a long winter.

But wait, what of this cure I promised? On wendsday, the perscription calls for me to leave town, en route to Las Vegas, Myrtle Beach, Nassau, Havana, and assorted other ports of call in the islands as I go to spend 18 days carousing about the Carribean. I promise, I'll bring you back something cool. So while today I was skiing in single digit tempratures (icecicles hanging from your beard are cool, right?), in 72 hours I'll be beach side in the Bahamas drink in hand. Not a bad perscription eh?

Sand in my ears

Imperial Sand Dunes National Recreation Area lies about 25 miles west of Yuma, AZ across the state line, about 10 miles north of Mexico. 40 miles long and 5 wide, this holiday weekend it was the scene of some hundreds of thousands of "Duners" descending upon its white flowing ocean of sand. They drove 4-wheelers, dune buggys, sand rails, dirt bikes, and souped up golf carts in drag races along the dunes. And they drank copious amounts of beer, ate pallets of greasy french fries and turkey sandwiches out of coolers, and blew up fireworks late into the night.

My own part of this scene was small; we arrived tuesday and left friday, time enough to partake in those activities aformentioned, as well as roll our sandrail, repair the resulting broken stub axle, and get cited for blowing up some unclaimed fireworks.

Of those, rolling the sand rail was by far the most exciting, for me at least, since I was the passenger at the time. We had just set up camp and were making a quick run before going to eat, my brother was driving and we were hauling ass across the top of a dune. Me being a virgin duner and in the company of several experianced folks, I had been excited in the preceeding minutes by what I was assured was pretty tame stuff. So when we hit the raised crest of a dune at suffecient speed to point our nose up in the air and then our tail over our heads, I thought to myself,in that moment we had to contempate the likeness of our arrangment to that of a lawn dart, how cool this was and if this is what running the dunes is all about. Then came the impact, and ensuing roll. When the dust cleared, my brother was turning the air a sort of purple with his barrage of epitaths and trying to pull forward, when I pointed out that we were missing a wheel, as well as an assortment of lights and other minor fixtures. In looking at our tracks later, we were confused at one point when the tracks disapeared, until we realized that was when we were in the air. Acually, the rear tire marks were entirly absent for a good 50 or 60 feet, not appearing again until accompanied by one the detached tire buried in the sand.

Long story short we towed, draged, and cajoled the rail back to camp and spent the next 24 hours McGuivering the axle, wheel, and rail back together in time for a full afternoon running the dunes and a few runs down the drag strip. We even ran the airshow smoke system dad installed. Most folks we talked to said they didn't know anyone who had ever rolled a rig before, but I suspect that has more to do with their not wanting to hurt their jillion dollar toys. Much more fun to spend less money on the rig and the difference in repairing it each time you mangle it.

So that was how, on thanksgiving evening, we toasted among other things, strong roll bars.

White Lightning

Yep, the still works.

After a bit of tinkering I finally got the still to yield some high proof moonshine, at about the same time said moonshine began to trickle out of a leak in the plumbing and down towards the burner. My roomate and I look at the rivlet headed for the flame, at each other, and simultaniously reach for stove dial. We are too late and a blueish yellow flame leaps up at the same instant we kill the stove. He leaps back, I leap for my camera. Not every day your homemade still catches fire in the kitchen. Sadly I did not get a shot off, as it burned itself out in only about 20 seconds. After tightening all the joints and a bit more tinkering, one batch through the still yielded about a pint of apple brandy, estimated around 60 proof. I still have some ideas for how to make a stronger product faster, but that will have to wait, I am off to the Dunes for thanksgiving.

Yer in MY UNIVERSE now, punk!

Yep, I am officially a substitute teacher. I had my first day of classes on my own yesterday, 2 periods of sophmore english and 1 of photography. The first english class went great; I taught my lesson, the kids not only stayed awake but even seemed to have learned something, and when class was over, they said thank you and asked if they could trade me for their regular teacher. And Jared's hat size increased several times.
During photo, I did less actual teaching and more signing of passes so they could go to the darkroom or shoot pictures. At one point I looked up and there were like 5 kids left in the room. "Huh" I thought to myself, "I sure hope at least some of them come back."
The during the last english class, the kids came back all wound up from lunch and we did not get through the lesson at all. They pretty much had their way with the rookie sub, and at the end they also said they wanted to trade me for their regular teacher, but I suspect it was for differant reasons that the first class. So Jared's hat size resumed its former dimension.

I also had a class of 2nd graders two days ago, but didn't do much there since there was a student teacher running the show. Good thing too, since I would be pretty much unable to function with twenty 8 year old snot factories careening around the classroom, ricocheting off desks and chalk boards, and generally sliming everything they touch.

Tomorrow I have a high school science class; if all else fails we can discuss the organic chemistry behind fermentationa and distillation or the physics involved with potatoe cannons.

The time line of a bad idea

1900: I pick her up to go out dancing at the Museum Club; we are having a good time until around...
21:30: She looses interest in dancing, tells me to go ask some other girls to dance, and expresses her desire to play pool with some random dudes from Phoenix. This goes on till about...
23:00: She gets a call from friends downtown and we go to meet them at the Boardwalk. At this point I loose track of her whereabouts for half an hour at a time as she roams the crowded club and I drink vodka and dance with strangers.
0115: I have stopped drinking in order to give her a ride home, when she informs me that she will get a ride with some friend of hers. She apologizes for being a bad date and explains that she just broke up with her boyfriend when she met me, etc etc. I leave the bar, alone and still just a little buzzed, for how else can you explain...
0200: I have my pack loaded into my truck and I am headed north to the Grand Canyon to attempt a rim-to-rim-to-rim hike, about 47 miles with the goal of under 24 hours. I dodge elk, deer, rabbits, and other assorted woodland creaures who happen to graze in the middle of the road at two in the morning.
0330: Arrived at the canyon, sleeping in the back of my truck in the Bright Angle Lodge parking lot.
0600: Wake up with only a slight hangover and begin hiking down the Bright Angle trail.
0930: Made good time to the river and Phantom Ranch, about 2 hours and 45 minutes to cover the 9.5 miles, at this rate could conceviably finish this hike. Unfortunatly I am falling asleep on my feet and have almost 30 miles ahead of me.
0945: Consider discreation the better part of valor and descided to take a nap by the creek instead.
1200: Wake up and hike out, made it to the rim in three and a half hours, for a total of 19 miles in six hours and fifteen minutes of hiking time. I did get to see a family of desert bighorn sheep up close and several deer, as well as a ringtail cat.
17:00: Home, albeit with sore calves that will persist for days. Nonetheless, I go out salsa dancing where I am again shot down. But this time no more half cocked late night hikes.

I still want to do the rim-to-rim-to-rim hike, but next time I will do it with more sleep and less hangover.

Epilogue: I called her up a week later to see if she'd like to go dancing again. She hasn't called me back.

Red or Green?

May or may not be the state motto of New Mexico, but I think it should be. In the south everything comes with grits, whether you order them or not. In Mexico it is rice and beans. In New Mexico it is chili, and no that Tex-Mex, Hormel in a can, beef and tomatoe variety in which the name sake is an after thought. Nope, this is chili that consits primarily and almost soley of chilis. And it is good. And hot.

Made it to Sante Fe to visit Mel-the-Shorter and get out of Flagstaff for a few days. Got the tour of town, saw some museums and art galleries, and got to sit in on some classes at St. John's College. But I wasn't allowed to speak. Not me especially, but anyone who sits in and observes a class. When asked why, part of teh response had to do with me not paying tuition. As if by speaking I might learn something without paying for it. "Hey, you, are you leaving with more knowledge than you came in here with? Give some of that back now!" They were reading the Federalist papers (constitution, declaration of independance, etc) which naturally I have some opinions about, and Anna Karenina by Tolstoy, which I had been reading since September and was excited about when I heard they were reading it to. None the less, it was fun and nice to be in a rigourus academic environment for a little while, something I definatly miss here, even when I am on campus most of the time.

In other news, Mel-the-Taller is back crashing on my couch, my substitute teaching stuff is almost done, I may be in a classroom within a few days, the still has been completed and fermentation of the wash is about to begin, and today is veteran's day, so take a moment to appreciate the day and those it honors.

"You haven't been there until you've eaten the food." - Me

Screw the Eagles!

Yeah, standing on a corner in Winslow Arizona, what a crock of shit.

More like the black hole of hitch-hiking. Now I am no expert here, but I have hitched a variety of places, lonely roads in Alaska, scenic byways of California, and remote dirt roads in central Mexico to name a few, but never have I had so little luck getting a ride as in Winslow-Armpit-of-Arizona. Seriously, over three hours on a corner of a freeway turn-on and no one stopped. Lots of people waved (possibly the most per capita in my experiance) but none stopped. I was supposed to be visiting Mel-the-shorter in Sante Fe, but since by 6:30 pm I had made only 58 miles from my house in Flag, I descided to bag it, go home, and drive myself the next morning. And you can be damn sure if I meet any hitchhikers they will get a ride; it would seem I need to build up some more good karma before I head out again.

A guardian of democracy

At least that is what the add in the campus newspaper called election workers. So, being otherwise marginally unemployed, I signed up. After all, $90 for a days work, could be worse and I anticipated the possability of getting some fun stories from the experiance. And I thought it would look good on a resume.

Well, it was a long days work, to say the least, setting up the polls at 0530 and not getting out until after 2000, and we were lucky, some precincts had lines out the door at closing time and had to wait till those folks voted, sometimes not till after midnight. It was amusing, none the less. The excitment some people had, especially the first time voters was neat, and the exhasperation of people who waited until 30 minutes before closing to drive to the wrong precinct and then blame us for their own lack of preparation. And the ones who thought they could vote here, even though they are registered in Rhode Island. It is a completely differant ballot people! So my public service for the day is to tell you all, here and now, that is you move, you need to change your voter registration or you will not be able to vote!! Ok, I feel a little better; the venting is over and I will try for an amusing story later.

Oh, got one. The elections inspector at my site was an unpleasnt obese woman who generally made people feel like shit when she told them they were at the wrong place. Towards the days end, when we are all getting a bit tired and loopy, she starts complaining about her chapped lips. She wanders over to the table and picks up the little dish of moistener we have to put on fingertips to help turn the pages of the register. Now I admit it is shaped like a tin of Carmex, but the resemblance ends there. It is bigger, pink, and says on the side "...use to moisten fingertips...". Well she grabs it and gets a glob on her finger and smears the 'ole lipps with it and looks around triumphantly smiling. Then her lips begin to quiver and the smile disapears and she says somewhat worriedly that it is starting to burn. She waddles as fast as she can over to an adjacent room with a sink as we help the next people in line and exchange generally befuddled looks.

"We named the dog Indiana..." 

Worth a thousand words?

Or at least a few minutes on a computer, trying to figure out how to post pictures.

The beer was a sucess, as was the party. Good taste, strong but not too strong. The beer, not the party. Went out last night to the bars, fun seeing everyone dressed up, definatly some creative folks out there. I went as Indiana Jones, and must say, I liked my costume so much, it may become a regular feature of my wardrobe.

The first tasting of the first batch of Homestead Beer. Sucess!