Saturday, October 29, 2005
Wednesday, October 26, 2005
Snow Day!
It appears that we may be in for a "bad" winter. Spickey De Bonzo has been quick to point out that, in some of our minds, "bad" is actually good. Keeping this in mind I thought I would ask my faithful readers what their favorite thing about snow is. For me its the silence. Snow blankets everything, and therefore muffles everything. As a little kid I remember playing in the snow with my sisters, and taking a second to stop and listed to the silence. Amazing.
Wednesday, October 19, 2005
The Next Big Disaster.
While our government is still hopelessly involved in finger pointing over Katrina, a far more sinister threat looms. I for one can't wait!
Exciting News.
A little while ago I received a letter in the mail addressed to me and marked "Urgent: Time Dated Materials." I didn't initially tell you guys about this for two reasons. 1) I had to make sure that it wasn't one of the secret messages that I periodically receive from Karl Rove. 2) I wasn't sure if I could talk about it. Now assured that I am free to speak on both counts, I feel that I can share with you my good news. Apparently, after being closely scrutinized by a major corporation, I have been selected for "pre-approval." Don't go getting jealous just yet. I have only been selected for a "special introductory offer," but am excited regardless. After receiving my full application I will go through an even more stringent selection process, and if selected for final approval, I will become a member of their "Gold Club." It seems very exciting. I will even get a special "Gold Card" that I can use to by stuff. To top it all off, none of this will cost me anything for the first year! Man am I stoked!! I'll keep you updated as the process continues.
Thursday, October 13, 2005
A Few Observations
Faithful readers of this blog should be well aware of the rivalry between myself and a certain Mr. Brechty. Recently this rivalry has taken a much more serious, even sinister turn. It now involves food. A wager has been placed on the outcome of a soccer game between my Alma Mater and Brechty's employer. The loser of this wager must buy the other a Thai dinner. In the spirit of this wager, Brechty and I attended a soccer game last night between Messiah College and Lycoming College, not the match that the wager was placed on. The weather was chilly and a bit rainy, perfect for soccer. I knew it would be a good game when Messiah went up 2-0 in the first six minutes. The second half started with the score 5-1, and while Brechty held out hope that Lycoming would grasp victory by capturing the golden snitch, Messiah extended their lead for a 7-1 victory. I must say that I really enjoyed myself and hope to get a few more games in this season.
On my way to the above mentioned soccer game I made the first of my observations. PennDot workers are really under rated. It is a common belief here in central PA that PennDot workers do nothing but stand around. I now believe that this assumption is not totally correct. PennDot workers put a lot of effort into appearing to work. As we drove through a construction zone I commented on how much work was being done. It appeared to be quite the busy work zone. There were trucks with flashing lights, a crane lifting equipment, and a group of workers huddled around construction plans. I was impressed, but then I looked closer. The crane wasn't actually lifting the equipment, rather the equipment was hanging there while two workers stood beside it talking. The trucks did have flashing lights, but weren't actually moving. In fact, I couldn't actually see what the group was huddled around. It assumed it was construction plans, but it easily could have been a GameBoy. So the next time you cruise through a construction zone, don't curse the workers for their incompetence, take a closer look and admire them for the masters of misdirection and deception that they truly are.
Observation #2 is less observation than complaint. Have you ever known someone who can't/won't admit when they are wrong. It absolutely infuriates me. I work with a person who refuses to admit a mistake even if the evidence of it is presented directly to them, and it drives me insane. I don't understand what the big deal is. Humans make mistakes, sometimes we don't know things, and that's ok. I am willing to admit when I'm wrong. Take the time I said that "Kentucky Fried Chicken" changed their name to "KFC" because the food they were serving no longer met the legal definition of "chicken." That was wrong. Or the time I threw a rubber frog at a passing car while waiting at the bus stop. Also wrong. See, it isn't hard!
On my way to the above mentioned soccer game I made the first of my observations. PennDot workers are really under rated. It is a common belief here in central PA that PennDot workers do nothing but stand around. I now believe that this assumption is not totally correct. PennDot workers put a lot of effort into appearing to work. As we drove through a construction zone I commented on how much work was being done. It appeared to be quite the busy work zone. There were trucks with flashing lights, a crane lifting equipment, and a group of workers huddled around construction plans. I was impressed, but then I looked closer. The crane wasn't actually lifting the equipment, rather the equipment was hanging there while two workers stood beside it talking. The trucks did have flashing lights, but weren't actually moving. In fact, I couldn't actually see what the group was huddled around. It assumed it was construction plans, but it easily could have been a GameBoy. So the next time you cruise through a construction zone, don't curse the workers for their incompetence, take a closer look and admire them for the masters of misdirection and deception that they truly are.
Observation #2 is less observation than complaint. Have you ever known someone who can't/won't admit when they are wrong. It absolutely infuriates me. I work with a person who refuses to admit a mistake even if the evidence of it is presented directly to them, and it drives me insane. I don't understand what the big deal is. Humans make mistakes, sometimes we don't know things, and that's ok. I am willing to admit when I'm wrong. Take the time I said that "Kentucky Fried Chicken" changed their name to "KFC" because the food they were serving no longer met the legal definition of "chicken." That was wrong. Or the time I threw a rubber frog at a passing car while waiting at the bus stop. Also wrong. See, it isn't hard!
Wednesday, October 05, 2005
Almost Perfect.
Yesterday morning I officially began my 2005 hiking season with my traditional opening hike to the old fire tower on the top of Stony Mountain. Rising early in the morning I was a bit concerned that I may not be fit enough to tackle the hike after a summer of lounging in front of the Playstation, but I endeavored to tackle the challenge anyway. In the interest of time I brought along my mountain bike so that I could ride some of the not incredibly steep portions. I arrived in the valley just after sunrise, or what I thought to be sunrise as the overcast, drizzly, sky made it hard to tell. Undeterred by the weather I pulled my trusty Escort off of the dirt road and prepared for battle.
The nice thing about the route up to the fire tower is that it is along a gravel/dirt road used to access the forest by the Game Commission. The not so nice thing is that it goes straight up the side of the mountain for several miles. Feeling optimistic I hopped on my bike and started pedaling. I hadn't even gone 1/4 mile when I looked off to my left and saw a small doe looking back at me from about 30 feet away. I attempted to quietly stop my bike, but my wet brakes let out a squawk that could be heard for miles. Surprisingly, the deer didn't move. I quietly laid my bike down, and sat myself down on the gravel. The doe and I sat there looking at each other for several minutes until the sound of another deer further off in the woods got her attention and she slowly sauntered away. I hopped back on my bike hoping to cut off the other deer further up the road, but within another 1/4 mile I was off of the bike again, winded from the steep incline. Thus the long push began. Step after step of uphill agony made me regret all of those PS2 F1 wins and FIFA Soccer Championships. After what seemed like hours, but was actually only about 30 minutes, I came across a little clearing that marked my first break. I slipped quietly into the grass and took a relaxing sip of water while blue jays and some other type of bird (dark brown with white backs) played above.
Back on the climb, I began to wonder if it was all really worth it. The last time I visited the fire tower it had been locked and getting to the top required several acts of moral flexibility and intestinal fortitude. I continued to move, telling myself that completing the climb was the true prize and the tower was just cherry topping. 40 minutes and another break later I knew I was close to the top, but the crest of every climb revealed another uphill stretch ahead. Reaching the top of one particularly nasty section I was thrilled to see the road turn downhill, and then level off ahead. I hopped back on the bike a took off. While my joy may have been intense, it was equally short lived, and as I turned a corner I was faced with the steepest climb I had yet seen. Dejected, I slid off of my bike and began to push yet again. Just as the sweat was beginning to drip off of the tip of my nose, my ears were greeted with an unexpected, but highly pleasing sound. My cell phone was ringing. After a short conversation with proteinstar, I renewed the hike with vigor. Cell phone reception in and around the Stony Valley is notoriously terrible, except for the spot where my hike would end its upward slope and level off for good. This spot had reception because it was directly beneath a cell phone tower. If I had reception, then I was close to the tower. Several minutes later my hopes were realized as I crested my final climb and saw the cell phone tower off to my left. After shaking my fist at some cell phone company employees and the SUV that undoubtedly got them to the top of the mountain faster than the hour and a half it took me, I swung my leg over my bike and took of for the fire tower.
With the agony behind me I was able to realize what a truly beautiful day it was. The early fall foliage showed just a hint of red, yellow, and orange peeking out from the mostly green trees. Despite the still overcast skies, the weather was quite pleasant, and I thoroughly enjoyed the short ride to the base of the fire tower. Upon my arrival I received the best surprise of the day, the tower was unlocked and the gate was hanging wide open as if it had been awaiting my annual visit. I scampered up the rusted stairway to the top, checked out the new graffiti and set to work on my most difficult task of the day: deciding which side of the tower to sit on while eating my ham and cheese sandwich. Normally there is no contest, the East side simply has the better view, but the low hanging clouds negated this advantage. After walking around the tower several times I finally decided on the West side. As I sat eating my sandwich I enjoyed the view as several more blue jays darted about below, their blue brilliantly highlighted by the multicolored leaves. Finished with my sandwich, I called the fiance (the one element missing from my perfect day) on my cellphone, and then encouraged the mountain with a reading of Psalm 121. Recently part of the Stony Valley has become endangered by a National Guard plan for a new tank range. Satisfied with my visit I got up to leave, and was pleased to find that the clouds had lifted just enough to clear the view from the East end all the way down to the DeHart Reservoir. Exquisite.
Back on my bike, my nerves began firing in high gear. I was about to enter the most exhilarating and dangerous phase of the day. I had spent the entire hike up convincing myself that I would not die on the way down. Now I would find out. As I reached the cellphone tower I slid my butt off of my seat and threw the weight of my body back over my rear tire as my bike accelerated to, and through, ludicrous speed. It is amazing how much time you have to think when the world is flying past at high speed. In this instance my mind was mainly consumed with the fact that four years ago I had opted not to spend the extra $100 for a front suspension on my mountain bike, now my limbs were paying for it. After several minutes of blurred trees and gravel I stretched my butt back as far as it would go and squeezed hard on both brakes. As the bike slid to a halt my arms and legs continued to shake as if still in motion. I took a few minutes to gather my thoughts and tried to remember what spots I had designated as "especially dangerous" on the way up. When my muscles spasms returned to a controllable state I took off again. After my initial success I felt a bit more daring and released the brakes fully. As I plummeted down one slope after another my wheel chatter turned into a high frequency vibration and it became clear to me that I might be reaching highway speeds. I became aware that some of the more difficult sections were ahead and slowed up a bit to navigate them. The combination of the sudden loss of altitude and the violent rattling of the descent had an interesting effect on my stomach. Having just eaten a ham sandwich I felt as if I might vomit. In what was a questionable decision at best I decided that finishing my ride at top speed was worth a little puke, and after clearing the last rough patch, I released the brakes again. Within a few more minutes I could see the gate that marked the end of the path and my car. As I approached it I smashed my rear brake and let the bike slide out from underneath me. I quickly slid to a halt and lay on the ground with my heart pounding, my stomach heaving, and my muscles quivering in a miserable gelatinous mass. With a huge smile on my face I looked at the gravel road beneath me, gave it a little pat, and said "That was great baby." I had covered the distance of my 1 1/2 hour ascent in just over 10 minutes.
The nice thing about the route up to the fire tower is that it is along a gravel/dirt road used to access the forest by the Game Commission. The not so nice thing is that it goes straight up the side of the mountain for several miles. Feeling optimistic I hopped on my bike and started pedaling. I hadn't even gone 1/4 mile when I looked off to my left and saw a small doe looking back at me from about 30 feet away. I attempted to quietly stop my bike, but my wet brakes let out a squawk that could be heard for miles. Surprisingly, the deer didn't move. I quietly laid my bike down, and sat myself down on the gravel. The doe and I sat there looking at each other for several minutes until the sound of another deer further off in the woods got her attention and she slowly sauntered away. I hopped back on my bike hoping to cut off the other deer further up the road, but within another 1/4 mile I was off of the bike again, winded from the steep incline. Thus the long push began. Step after step of uphill agony made me regret all of those PS2 F1 wins and FIFA Soccer Championships. After what seemed like hours, but was actually only about 30 minutes, I came across a little clearing that marked my first break. I slipped quietly into the grass and took a relaxing sip of water while blue jays and some other type of bird (dark brown with white backs) played above.
Back on the climb, I began to wonder if it was all really worth it. The last time I visited the fire tower it had been locked and getting to the top required several acts of moral flexibility and intestinal fortitude. I continued to move, telling myself that completing the climb was the true prize and the tower was just cherry topping. 40 minutes and another break later I knew I was close to the top, but the crest of every climb revealed another uphill stretch ahead. Reaching the top of one particularly nasty section I was thrilled to see the road turn downhill, and then level off ahead. I hopped back on the bike a took off. While my joy may have been intense, it was equally short lived, and as I turned a corner I was faced with the steepest climb I had yet seen. Dejected, I slid off of my bike and began to push yet again. Just as the sweat was beginning to drip off of the tip of my nose, my ears were greeted with an unexpected, but highly pleasing sound. My cell phone was ringing. After a short conversation with proteinstar, I renewed the hike with vigor. Cell phone reception in and around the Stony Valley is notoriously terrible, except for the spot where my hike would end its upward slope and level off for good. This spot had reception because it was directly beneath a cell phone tower. If I had reception, then I was close to the tower. Several minutes later my hopes were realized as I crested my final climb and saw the cell phone tower off to my left. After shaking my fist at some cell phone company employees and the SUV that undoubtedly got them to the top of the mountain faster than the hour and a half it took me, I swung my leg over my bike and took of for the fire tower.
With the agony behind me I was able to realize what a truly beautiful day it was. The early fall foliage showed just a hint of red, yellow, and orange peeking out from the mostly green trees. Despite the still overcast skies, the weather was quite pleasant, and I thoroughly enjoyed the short ride to the base of the fire tower. Upon my arrival I received the best surprise of the day, the tower was unlocked and the gate was hanging wide open as if it had been awaiting my annual visit. I scampered up the rusted stairway to the top, checked out the new graffiti and set to work on my most difficult task of the day: deciding which side of the tower to sit on while eating my ham and cheese sandwich. Normally there is no contest, the East side simply has the better view, but the low hanging clouds negated this advantage. After walking around the tower several times I finally decided on the West side. As I sat eating my sandwich I enjoyed the view as several more blue jays darted about below, their blue brilliantly highlighted by the multicolored leaves. Finished with my sandwich, I called the fiance (the one element missing from my perfect day) on my cellphone, and then encouraged the mountain with a reading of Psalm 121. Recently part of the Stony Valley has become endangered by a National Guard plan for a new tank range. Satisfied with my visit I got up to leave, and was pleased to find that the clouds had lifted just enough to clear the view from the East end all the way down to the DeHart Reservoir. Exquisite.
Back on my bike, my nerves began firing in high gear. I was about to enter the most exhilarating and dangerous phase of the day. I had spent the entire hike up convincing myself that I would not die on the way down. Now I would find out. As I reached the cellphone tower I slid my butt off of my seat and threw the weight of my body back over my rear tire as my bike accelerated to, and through, ludicrous speed. It is amazing how much time you have to think when the world is flying past at high speed. In this instance my mind was mainly consumed with the fact that four years ago I had opted not to spend the extra $100 for a front suspension on my mountain bike, now my limbs were paying for it. After several minutes of blurred trees and gravel I stretched my butt back as far as it would go and squeezed hard on both brakes. As the bike slid to a halt my arms and legs continued to shake as if still in motion. I took a few minutes to gather my thoughts and tried to remember what spots I had designated as "especially dangerous" on the way up. When my muscles spasms returned to a controllable state I took off again. After my initial success I felt a bit more daring and released the brakes fully. As I plummeted down one slope after another my wheel chatter turned into a high frequency vibration and it became clear to me that I might be reaching highway speeds. I became aware that some of the more difficult sections were ahead and slowed up a bit to navigate them. The combination of the sudden loss of altitude and the violent rattling of the descent had an interesting effect on my stomach. Having just eaten a ham sandwich I felt as if I might vomit. In what was a questionable decision at best I decided that finishing my ride at top speed was worth a little puke, and after clearing the last rough patch, I released the brakes again. Within a few more minutes I could see the gate that marked the end of the path and my car. As I approached it I smashed my rear brake and let the bike slide out from underneath me. I quickly slid to a halt and lay on the ground with my heart pounding, my stomach heaving, and my muscles quivering in a miserable gelatinous mass. With a huge smile on my face I looked at the gravel road beneath me, gave it a little pat, and said "That was great baby." I had covered the distance of my 1 1/2 hour ascent in just over 10 minutes.
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