Our First Hike of 2012

Juliet and I were supposed to go on a very fun cross-country ski lunch on Sunday. Our accountant had other ideas and for 2 full days we languished under the weight of nasty numbers and numerous receipts.

Yesterday the temperature in Denver hit 66 degrees F and we had to go outside. We decided to hike Green Mountain in our neighborhood as it promised good views of the surrounding area and much-needed exercise.

Basically the hike stomped on our lungs and made us feel every bit of our elevation and leftover holiday heft. In addition the winds were approaching 50 mph at the summit which did not make for the tranquil jaunt we expected.

As soon as we returned home from only a 2 hour hike we ate almost everything in our fridge and the passed out in the bed for well over an hour. Clearly it is time to get back on the horse and make something of myself physically.

To add insult to injury I did not check the settings on my camera and I shot everything yesterday at 3200 ISO. It may have been the brightest day in the history of Denver yesterday so there was no need for anything above 100 ISO. Oops...

Here is what I could manage from the D7000 (still pretty sweet even handicapped) and a shot from the iPhone.

Happy Monday :-)

Top 25 Italy Moments: #15 The Legend of Soy Jack

It was nearly 3am when Chris came home. Our little dorm room in Rome always smelled vaguely of human feet, especially when Chris occasionally bathed. I could never grasp why the act of bathing fostered an increase in airborne fungus, yet it never failed.

I have always been a light sleeper, so the stumbling idiosyncrasies of an intoxicated man attempting to be quiet suggested a water buffalo had entered the room rather than a diminutive biped.

I tried my best to pretend to be asleep as I was not in any frame of mind at that time to be regaled by Chris's exploits in the eternal city. Unfortunately I shifted just slightly and like a hyper-sensitive creature of the night Chris turned to me and spoke:

Chris: hey man, sorry to disturb you

Me: its cool I was awake anyway (lying)

Chris: I was in Rome tonight

Me: I guessed that

Chris: (drunk giggle) man, I met a girl

Me: yeah?

Chris: I was in Piazza Navona drinking with some kids I met (kids was euphemism Chris liked for people our age) and there was this smoking hot woman having a drink and watching me

Me: yeah?

Chris: anyway she came over to where we were drinking and I gave her a pull on my Heiny (large format Heineken) and she sat down and tried to talk to me

Me: did she speak English?

Chris: nah man, we didn't need words, I could tell she was hot for me and it was clearly "going to happen"

Me: what was?

Chris: you know man, you know what its about....so we got another bottle of beer and took it with us, it was almost midnight and she held my hand as we walked down the street. She had this apartment in a shitty old building worse than this one and we had to walk up so many stairs that I dropped the bottle and it clanged down real hard and I turned my ankle trying to catch it...it didn't break (big yawn)

Me: you went to her house?

Chris: yeah dude, we made it in the front door and I opened the beer and it sprayed all over us. she took my shirt off really slowly and began washing it in the sink. I started rubbing her ass while she was cleaning my shirt and she turned around and started touching my chest...like a minute later I was fucking her on the couch and shit started breaking and falling from the little tables.

Me: what? you are lying to me dude

Chris: I could not make this up...she had stretch marks all over her stomach so I knew she had a kid somewhere maybe in the other room for all I know at the time. she was tight though and when I finished she started crying.

Me: why, because you were so small?

Chris: you know I'll whip it out right now and show you small

Me: please just finish the story man

Chris: she starts turning on lights and showing me pictures of some guy and her. I guess it was her husband..she was just crying and I could not understand her...she started pointing to herself and saying Tuh-ray-zuh....her name I guess was Theresa (in American accent)

Me: did you tell her your name?

Chris: hell no...I pointed to myself and said "Soy Jack"

Me: you did not?

Chris: yeah, I figured I would not see her again and Jack seemed like a good name

Me: that is not Italian

Chris: I don't know any Italian, I studied Spanish

Me: that is not even good Spanish

Chris: I don't give a fuck man..she started looking at the pictures of the guy and pointing, telling me his name was More-Toe

Me: Morto?

Chris: yeah, that's it

Me: Morto means dead!

Chris: oh....really?.....well I guess the dude was dead and she wanted a little lovin'

Me: Soy Jack huh?

Chris: I am really tired, I had to walk all the way to Piramide to catch the blue bus.

Me: you are very lucky you made it

Chris: yeah. I slept past the stop and had to ride the bus back..the driver was yelling at me and I just kept saying Vitinia. 

Me: you passed our stop and had to go back?

Chis: yeah, so what, it's what these guidos get paid to do

Me: whatever you say "Soy Jack"

I relayed the story to anyone who would listen the following day and while the tale was widely presumed to be false, the legend was born and there would be no stopping it.

Haiku Sunday - Changing my Mind

Is this irony

thought the carefree traveler

as he licked his cone

DRH #1

The family we are his

to manage and guide

She screamed so loudly

she woke the baby after

he just went to bed

He stopped for tire help

and was caught in a hailstorm

killing his windshield

On a dark desert

highway cool wind in his hair

warm booze by his side

whales choose paths based on

delicious currents and/or

avoiding men

just when he thought D

can't go any further she poured

herself into him

Top 25 Italy Moments - #16 Singing in Rome

In 1992 while living just outside of Rome I had a tendency to skip organized school activities that were not mandatory. I chose Oktoberfest over a Florence trip, I skipped a 4 day travel weekend to write a philosophy paper (to prove I could), and I bailed out of a couple of organized art walks of the city to stick around campus and spend some time alone.

While I would like to participate in those art walks now as I could not tell you Rococo from Rembrandt I do not regret for a minute the choices I made. My alone time was usually spent writing but on a particularly pleasant sunny day I decided to put on my headphones and sit outside awhile to take in the views of the suburban countryside and reminisce.

I had made a few tapes of music from home and had found a fellow Texan in my class who shared a passion for Texas folk music. I had some killer mixes of Jerry Jeff Walker, Robert Earl Keen, and of course Willie Nelson to sing me to sleep on nights when I was sick of Italy, my classmates, or my own mind.

I remember this day that I was listening to some B sides from Garth Brooks and in the moment I became lost in the beauty of the place and began to sing. Now, I may not be American Idol material as I just don't have a big range; however, my voice was made for country and the twangier the better. I think I was belting out Same Old Story from the "No Fences" album when I heard some sudden whistles and polite applause from a window above me.

Clearly I had not been alone and I was startled mightily and immediately embarrassed. The two young ladies had stayed behind to rest and were actually napping when my neo-country drawl took them from their slumber. They called down to me and were in fact quite polite about the ordeal. I was mortified of course because I was in that "dance like no one was watching" mode and felt violated.

I think it was 12 years or so before I ever sang out loud in public again, at a wine warehouse in San Francisco. I still listened to "London Homesick Blues" on that trip to Rome; I would just mouth the words to myself as I drifted to sleep not to disturb anyone or call unwanted attention to myself. Without my singing hobby I was forced to write with greater frequency and perhaps that is why I am here today writing and crooning alone in my home; living while no one is watching.

Juliet's 2:30 AM Call - Table Mountain Hike Images

I will start by apologizing for being terribly behind in my blog reading and commenting. Juliet is a cardiac nurse in a very specialized procedural area. Because of the nature of her job she must sometimes carry a pager in case of a cardiac emergency at the hospital.

At roughly 2:30AM this morning the nasty little pager went off and we were on our way to the hospital in moments. We share a car and when my wife is called in the middle of the name I must take her for peace of mind and her safety. Juliet is incredibly responsive to this kind of emergency. She knows life and death hang in the balance of her efforts and I am happy to contribute in any way I can to ease the stress for her.

The crappy part of this is that both of us lose sleep. I feel it is only fair in some ways that I feel what she is feeling and at the same time it certainly crashes the very fragile state of mind I need in order to write.

On top of all of this. The owners of the apartment above us have a large bulldog puppy who howls with separation anxiety all day. I have reported this to the apartment and they have yet to do anything. I work in complete silence, no music, no running water, no radio. This poor lonely animal is miserable and scared. The pathetic owners of this dog should learn some lessons about how to rear a young animal. When the dog becomes really agitated, and it does, it begins to run all over the floor and sling things back and forth. I can see the entire image of the creature in my head and I am sad for it; yet I want it to stop. It is like the "EYE" in the Tell Tale Heart. I cannot stand the noise and I am going to make a final complaint to the office today before I go outside and take this to the authorities. We live in an overpriced apartment so that I know most people are out working and I will have the days to myself to work. This is clearly not going well. This paragraph sounds like the diary of a teenager because I am sleep-deprived and near lunacy from this canine silence cannibal. I try not to wish ill on people or animals. Today I am close to funneling a little 91 octane under that apartment door and sending this place up like river party in Apocalypse Now. The Horror.......The Horror....... (in Brando voice)

Enjoy the happy photos which were taken while out on a hike of South Table Mountain where dogs were on leashes and happy with their owners. This area was appropriately desert-like as the humidity was a whopping 2% (not a typo) when we made this journey.

I promise to be back to my commenting self once I take a Xanax, have a nap, and get some earplugs.