Update

Somebody actually has a photo from the bachelor party I attended a month ago. I stole it (courtesy of Jon Gratz, actually), and you can see the type of foolishness we were involved in. If you've ever seen the arcade game "Big Buck Hunter," it was like that, but with people wearing antlers and a paintball gun. Hilarious.

Reality Check

My wife and I went on a great hike yesterday, did about seven or eight miles in the hills above the North Fork of the Nooksack. The weather was perfect, and our views of Mt. Baker were phenomenonal. I did scare myself a bit, however. Just as we were reaching our turnaround point to head back to the Jeep, I started to feel a bit weak and had the shakes something fierce. At first I tried to play the tough guy, but I realized that was going to get me, or both of us, into some real trouble. I had us stop for a break and started putting as much water and quick food into myself. Then I went over the procedure for treating someone for dehydration with my wife. That's not a fun conversation to have, by the way. But after a short rest, I was back in the game and we were able to enjoy our hike.

The moral of the story is to stay hydrated. I didn't feel like I was working that hard in the hills, or that I was sweating that much, but I recognized the signs and felt somewhat stupid because I should have known better. It wasn't like I had forgotten to bring water, either. Oh well, lesson learned.

I will be here one day.

A couple of foiled summit attempts, followed by a move out of the state have put me off of my goal of being at the top of the lower 48. Mt. Rainier is the highest peak in CONUS, and I keep meaning to make another stab at it. My other problem is that my summit attainment is also dependent on a gentlemen's agreement with my climbing partner to do it together, and he's out of the country.


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The Grindstone

I always find it hard to go back to work after spending a lot of time with my wife, my family, and/or my friends. It always seems like I should just decide to win the lottery and retire at the ripe old age of 26. I do get a certain sense of satisfaction working, absolutely. But I also get a certain sense of satisfaction merely enjoying myself. My weekend was a great mix of my favorite people, being as my brother got married and all of the social functions that go with that. My parents threw the rehearsal dinner at a local Chinese restaurant, which was genius. The following day was the wedding, and the service and the reception were both great. The afterparty from the wedding ended up with me learning how to play pai gow poker at the casino. All in all, a helluva weekend that had to end. Ah well, maybe I will go get that lottery ticket...

Star struck

I interviewed John Reynolds from the Brad and John morning show on 92.9 KISM about his blogging. Really cool guy to talk to, and I'm actually looking forward to writing up my conversation with him. But that will have to wait, as I am currently getting ready for my brother's wedding, and all of the fun stuff that goes with that.

Light Grafitti

This was one of the artists I ran into on the Fourth of July working with light art. The video doesn't reveal all that much, but they were capturing the drawing with a camera with a manual shutter speed.

Ethics on violence

The Mossad is sort of Israel's equivalent to the United States' Central Intelligence Agency. They have gained a reputation as an agency to be wary of if you stand against Israel, especially if you are viewed as a threat. There have been multiple allegations over the past 60 years of Mossad agents assassinating people who were either members or allegedly had ties to terrorist groups working against Israel. The film "Munich" was based on one of the Mossad's more well-known exploits, where the Mossad hunted down those responsible for the 11 Israeli athletes murdered at the Olympic games in Munich.

The movie tends to focus on the psychological effect hunting and killing people had on the men involved. However, I'm curious to know what people's thoughts are on preemptive and/or retaliatory strikes, whether against individuals or nation states. I believe in identifying those who would hurt you and stopping them by any means necessary. For the sake of argument, you are able to correctly identify and are convinced that the other person is out to do you harm.

Let the games begin.

A Veteran's View

The U.S. Supreme Court is looking to fill the vacancy of Justice John Paul Stevens upon Stevens' retirement, and it President Barack Obama has nominated Solicitor General of the United States Elena Kagan to be the next Justice. Coming from a fairly conservative perspective, I have my own concerns about confirming someone whose values and views of the Constitution may not always reflect my own. I believe the citizens of this nation have the expectation to be very clear on the nominee's position on various points.

One of the issues Kagan is being grilled about is her attitude toward the military in general. Some have painted her as "anti-military," and much of this rhetoric stems from her time as Dean of the Harvard Law School. Kagan viewed the U.S. military as a discriminatory group based off the military's well-known policy of "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" regarding homosexuality. Her view did not ban military recruiters from Harvard's campus, but limited the forums in which they could meet with students.

I've recently been introduced to an article from The Washington Post, written by a Marine Officer who was a student at Harvard during Kagan's tenure. This article counters the anti-military version of Kagan to such an extent that I feel a bit better about her nomination.

On a personal note, it will be interesting to hear her views on the Second Amendment.

Tempting the fates

The buzzer for quitting time goes off at 3:30 p.m. at my place of business, but depending on where I'm at in the grand scheme of things, I may not be sliding down the dinosaur tail until sometime later. Normally this isn't a big concern, especially if I can scrape together some overtime. However, I have class at 4 p.m. on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and I have to travel from the northern edge of Ferndale to the southern edge of Bellingham to go from work to campus. Not to mention the five minute walk from the parking lot to the class room.

I don't have to push the speed limit too much, but my wife recently got a speeding ticket for doing 64 in a 60 m.p.h. zone, so I am a bit wary. Also, due to the late nature of the class, I neglected to purchase a summer parking pass, even though free parking doesn't start until 4:30 p.m. One of these days, karma may show up to bite me on the ass.

The 4th.

Had a good time this weekend. The wife and I did some karaoke at the local watering hole on Friday, did a barbecue/bonfire out at a friend's house Saturday, watched the fireworks display over Bellingham Bay on the 4th, then relaxed on Monday since someone deemed it a holiday.

Whilst socializing with some people on Sunday night after the fireworks were over, I noticed a few people making their way to the alley behind the house we were at. They all seemed really excited, and I could see some lights being flashed around in the dark. Upon investigation, I found out these guys were urban taggers, who were using a slow shutter speed on a camera to record their "tagging" with light instead of spray paint. I thought it was a pretty rad way for these dudes to express their art.

Realizing that this was a prime video opportunity for my blog, I whipped out the cell phone and began shooting these guys. They were at first apprehensive about it, which I still don't understand. Something about they each have a recognizable style which may or may not have been expressed on the side of a building somewhere, I don't know. But, once I introduced myself and let them know I wasn't out to identify them or their work, they chilled out and were more than happy to continue their light tagging. Hopefully, I will have video to follow...

I love my apartment complex.

BOOM BOOM BOOM BA-BOOM BOOM!!! Thank you for sharing your impressively loud car stereo system with me, guy-who-lives-at-the-end-of-my-complex. I 'm glad somebody else thinks that sharing your music at 2 a.m. or p.m. is a must if you drive an import car. I was led to believe that trend died off about ten years ago. Also, please continue to choose whatever speed you wish upon your leaving or return. Don't worry about the little kids, they'll learn to move one way or the other.

Thank you, parents-of-aforementioned-children, for your continued lack of diligence in supervising your offspring as they run willy-nilly across the parking lot. I love the days when I have to move the bicycle with the pink tassels on the handlebars and the training wheels in order to park my car.

Thank you, designer-of-great-vision, for so cleverly laying out the complex so that neither the front of my apartment, nor the back patio, ever receive direct sunlight. I only want the hardiest of tomatoes and herbs to grow; let the regular ones perish. My own version of vegetable evolution in action.

And to think my wife doesn't want to rent the sweet little house out in Custer with the fenced backyard for the dog we are pining for.

Adventures had by some.

My younger brother's bachelor party was this weekend. Imagine 17 dudes in the woods, with a mean age of about 25, some adult beverages (ok, many adult beverages), fireworks, a can of gas, a paintball gun and no obvious desire to return to civilization. Sort of like a redneck version of "The Lord of the Flies." I won't elaborate too much on the details, but nobody died after two nights. Some scrapes and bruises, some egos boosted and others deflated, but overall, it was a smashing success. Who was the genius that brought the coffee pot? Me. That was a big reason for anybody's survival, I'm sure of it.

Beer is apparently good for men to drink in large amounts, as it works to save the prostate. You may have to drink copious amounts, but there is help to counter that as well. Coffee may actually save your liver.

Woodworking

I've been demoted. Economic events over the past year have required the woodworking company I work for to "restructure" its employee base. I was previously a sort of apprentice, learning different aspects of woodworking; shaping raw timber into dimensioned pieces of wood, finish sanding and detailing, and quite a bit of staining and painting. However, the "restructuring" process has put me in the position of shop lackey. My duties now include taking out the garbage, emptying the scrap wood barrels, sweeping the floor, assisting the gents who still do woodworking with menial tasks, and the ever important bathroom cleaning. But I can't complain I suppose, being as I am still employed.

The workshop is a fairly large one, taking up about an acre, and that leaves quite a bit of smooth concrete floors normally associated with your big box store. The lowly sweeper moves across this concrete expanse on a regular basis, with a big box on wheels in tow to deposit sawdust in. Fortunately, someone named this receptacle a "dust box," so there is little confusion about what goes in said box. The outside of this box, which measures about 3 ft. x 3 ft. x 3 ft., is decorated with the names of the fallen sweepers who have been associated with this box in the past. I have not put my name on the box as of yet, as I refuse to believe that my future lies on four wheels with a variety of brooms sticking out of it like skewers in a sawdust fondue. I have made some minor improvements to the dust box, such as adding a screw into a corner to hang my clipboard on, and a platform to hold my R2D2-size coffee mug. Clearly, I haven't fallen that far if I have a clipboard, complete with notes of what tasks should be routinely accomplished.

What tasks are these? Well, you may think that my job description could read, "sweep, clean, repeat," but you would be far off. In fact, there are specific areas of the shop that require my utmost attention. Not by the machines which generate enormous volumes of deciduous and coniferous slag, nor in the areas most frequently traveled by employees. Nay, my focus first and foremost is the entry points of the shop, so that the first impression of the shop a visitor may have is of a tidy, well-kept pinnacle of craftsmanship. Ignore the missing trim in the office that apparently is not on anyone's clipboard, nor will be anytime soon (I asked).

I still get to learn a bit about woodwork now and again, especially when I beg someone to let me help them with a task. My company produces exceptional products, and last summer I worked on orders from high rollers such as Oprah Winfrey and Steve Miller. My hope is that work starts to pick up again and some other fortunate soul will find himself adding his name to the outside of the dust box.