Eureka

After years of fruitless endeavor and untold hardship our efforts have finally paid off. We have found it. Where others have failed, we have overcome. Where Cabot and Cartier floundered, we have flourished exceedingly. Where Frobisher and Hudson were led astray, we have stayed on course. Where the combined treasuries of the Europe's monarchies came up empty, we have had success overwhelming. Etcetera, etcetera; the Northwest Passage is ours!

It took three voyages and countless man hours, but on the third and final trip, in the two thousand and nineth year of our Lord, we came upon the hallowed land long last. After years of searching, a route from the Vistana downtown (star B) to Olmos Basin Park (star A) via the northwest route* was finally discovered. A bike route free from coarse winds, perilous icebergs, and large poorly driven motor vehicles does exist! The first ill-fated voyage attempted the most direct route via the southern terminus of the park but resulted only in scurvy and discord at the heavily trafficked and unpassable Hildebrand Avenue. The second venture, only a few months later, similarly ended in disaster as the expedition was set adrift chasing empty trade wind after trade wind trying to approach the basin from its eastern summit. The most recent voyage would likely itself have ended in calamity as the intrepid explorers sailed dangerously north on their attempted western approach, but steadfast spirit and a trusty sextant allowed for the charting of a new course and the safe arrival at the appointed destination. A poorly maintained mountain biking trail littered in trash.

On the safe return to harbor raucous celebrations broke out. Crates of beaver pelts were unloaded, plans were made to subjugate the local indigenous populations, and war was declared on the French. The triumphant bike was placed in dry dock in the apartment storage room while the crew retired to a triumphant dinner of burgers and shakes at Freddy's. Trade with Russia is expected to pick up shortly.

Charted route: Third Voyage

* Nevermind that the route is not actually so northwest. It certainly *felt* like I was going northwest.

It's Just a Shot

Yesterday I got my H1N1 influenza vaccination. So far so good. It started with some sniffles but I believe my transformation is advancing along nicely. Soon I will be a government super soldier complements of classified, black document bioengineering. Unless I got my conspiracy theories mixed up in which case I'm becoming a remote controlled, Manchurian candidate. Or maybe a disfigured, brain-craving zombie? Teenage mutant ninja turtle with Guillain-Barré? At least I know no microchips were placed as I received the FluMist nasal spray instead of the injection, but maybe the nanobots burrowing into my brain would just have me believe that. Either way, whatever the result, I am comfortable with the knowledge that I am protected from the swine flu and any other man made virus monstrosity the Chinese government throws at me. Man, my DNA hurts.

Turkeys

Had Thanksgiving at Team Crabtree's place last week. It was, mostly, delicious, and the time was, mostly, a good time. Wanted to share a few pictures. And hate on a dog.

First, the board. The central hub of organization and scheduling. Why Adam and Ashley have a gigantic white marker board I am not entirely sure, but it came in handy when we finally started preparing dinner at 1100. Plus how else would we have remembered to dress Spanky the Chihuahua?

Second, the fixins. After hours of labor -- Ashley's not mine -- we finally had ourselves some food. From top going clockwise we have the cooked parts of the turkey, the less cooked carcass of the turkey, "rolls", my attempt at some sort of candied yam thing, some tasty stuffing, mashed potatoes, green beans, creamed corn soup, and a ceramic bird full of gravy. All in all a good dinner aside from a continuous background chorus compliments of Sparky the Chihuahua.


And, lastly, the what the hell is this? If you guessed Nerf football cut in half and placed in a Pyrex baking dish you would be only partially correct. For reasons unknown squash was on the menu until a prolonged bake yielded this. A very comfortable bike seat. Due to unforeseen complications in preparation the squash was ditched in favor of eating Patsy the Chihuahua instead.

For more Thanksgiving photos including pictures of Cupcake the Corgi, Sushi the... some sort of dog, and Spunky the Chihuahua; check it out! The rest of the weekend was spent playing video games. Just as the Pilgrims did back in 1776.

My Nation Calls

Today I gave my yearly urine sample for the standard military drug screen. In light of past years difficulties I actively prehydrated. And then prehydrated some more. After an unreasonably long period of time I was finally able to give them what they wanted, and I've never stopped peeing since. I am not sure how much water I drank exactly, but I believe it would be measured in buckets. Or perhaps barrels if we were talking small barrels. I anticipate the urine flow to taper off sometime in early December assuming I don't slip into a hyponatremic coma first. Until next year.

In other news they built an IHOP underneath my apartment. Stay classy, San Antonio.

(And bring me a donut shop...)

Corn Activities

A few weeks ago we went to a corn maze -- excuse me, maize maze -- and it was... fun? What to say about a labyrinth of produce? Is corn truly a vegetable? Thanks to a handful of flashlights and an excess of clues it was not terribly difficult or very scary. The kettle corn was delicious, however, and they did have a corn cannon with which to shoot corns out of. All in all it took about 45 minutes to complete and after eating a little more corn we went home.

Here's a picture of this year's corntacular challenge!

Standing in Mud for a Song

Last week, complements of Ro, I went to Austin City Limits. Without exaggeration it was the hottest, sweatiest, and muddiest I have been in a good time. Which, coincidentally, makes for a pretty good time. The temptation to slip and slide about the muddy knolls was present but I remained dignified. Plus no one else was doing it.

Although the two bands I truly wanted to see, Dave Matthews and Flogging Molly, had played the day before, I still got to see a bunch of bands I had never heard of (David Garza, The Dead Weather, and Heartless Bastards) and two bands I had heard of but, really, never heard (The Toadies and Pearl Jam.) It turned out one of David Garza's band mates also apparently does hula hoop tricks? By the end of the evening when Pearl Jam finally came on for their two appointed hours we were shoulder to shoulder with countless thousands of other people in what was likely the greatest exchanging of germs the nation has seen in years. I may or may not have been standing on top of someone. I definitely got to first base with the back of the dude's head in front of me.

Despite knowing all of only three or four songs, Pearl Jam was still pretty great. There was not a whole lot in the way of pyrotechnics or special effects, just deafening music that gave me phantom vibrations and tinnitus for about three days afterward. Crowd surfing was attempted but resulted in the guy being thrown over a shoulder and promptly into the gack, and moshing was impossible due to the complete inability to shift one's body weight. Live music it seems is powerful stuff even if much of it is unintelligible. I suppose that's why any respectable nationalist uprising or religious revival always has a good chorus. Post concert we ate at Wendy's -- and I do believe even the food tasted better.

The Pushiest Dog

Last week I house sat for some friends. After eight days of drinking all their Dr. Pepper I called it and went home, a resounding success. Aside from a brief visit from the police due to my inability to effectively turn off the alarm system the stay was uneventful. What was eventful, however, was their dog. Or rather, dang that's a pushy canine.

My friends are the proud owners of a Siberian Husky -- Sienna. How it survives in San Antonio I am not entirely sure, but I believe it hibernates in the freezer from the months of June to September. Although friendly and unassuming in appearance, she has the perseverance and single minded focus of... a Siberian Husky? Perhaps a very focused and relentless Siberian Husky. Regardless, when she wants her walks she will let you know, and she wants her walks all the time. My daily strolls proved insufficient, however, and so every afternoon upon returning from work I would sit on the couch only to be repeatedly, in 3-4 minute cycles, interrupted by a very eager Sienna. Typically she would bound up to the couch, get as close to me as possible, make a few mildly disconcerting-sounding dog noises, and then spin in circles a few times. If ineffective she would either then give me peace for a few moments or proceed to lick my legs. If I refused walks this loop would then proceed on for hours. And If I gave her walks then it was time she let me know she wanted to play, the whole process repeating itself. Unfortunately while her need for walks was satisfiable enough, her need for play was a little more difficult to meet. Considering she seemed happiest just jumping around the living room, though, perhaps she was demanding less play and more frolics.

Sienna aside, there were two bulimic cats to take care of as well. Thankfully they were relegated to the lower level of the house. Whenever I ventured to the kitchen, though, I would be welcomed by their incessant meowing to be fed no matter the time of day or time of most recent feeding. I would have happily fed them to their early obesity-related demises had I not been warned that overfeeding leads to throwing up behind the furniture so instead I agreed to ignore them and they agreed to keep meowing whenever I went downstairs.

The similarity in tactics shared amongst all the household's animals may not have been purely coincidental, though, as near nightly the dog would amble over to the top of the stair case where one of the cats would be waiting. After exchanging greetings or stares or telepathic cartoon thoughts, whatever, the cat would then carry on a 1-2 minute lecture during which, presumably, Sienna would take careful mental notes for the following day. I broke up one of these pow-wows one evening more out of curiosity than anything else, and the next day I returned from work to a 30 gallon bag of down feathers torn up and strewn about the living room.* A word of warning I dutifully heeded. No way I'm going out like a strange plastic bag of feathers.

I will admit though. As much as I at times wanted to, and sometimes did, yell at the dog to leave me alone, and as many times as I teased her with the leash when it was walky time, I miss her a bit. Dogs are one of the few animals that seem to make us love them more even as they drive us further crazy. She's a good dog, that Sienna. Her friendliness; her pushiness; her beady, red eyes and all.

* The destruction of the bag of fluff may or may not have happened after my pet conference interruption.