The Mariah Carey Effect

Halloween has come and gone and Thanksgiving’s glorious presence is just around the corner (seriously, a holiday that bears the sole purpose of getting people to eat and visit without any burden of expectations or extravagant present buying? Sign me up), which means that America’s first love, the Christmas holiday season, is upon us. It is an infatuation whose utter devotion continues to startle and amaze me, yet one that apparently has not yet hit its deepest depths. This year I would like to write about a concept that has intrigued me for sometime now: the female fascination with Mariah Carey’s “All I Want for Christmas is You.”

First released in 1994 on her album “Merry Christmas,” Ms. Carey’s holiday anthem hit the collective feminine psyche like a one horse open sleigh on a mission from God, permanently imprinting itself into their own special collective unconscious (which we ALL know they have) and forcing them to lose control when it is played. Signs of control loss include bopping with hands clenched tightly together, incessant humming, and repeated utterances of the phrase “I LOVE this song!” I myself have been witness to this disturbing glimpse into girly goofiness on several occasions; here is my story.

Exhibit A: Christmas 2000, Butterfield Gallery of Dance. The world was enthralled with the 2,000th anniversary of its relationship with one Jesus H. Christ and dreading the prospect of a computer meltdown that, by all reports, would inevitably occur a mere six days later. I was at the dance studio for a rehearsal, but in the finest of dance traditions, we had decided to have a bit of an impromptu holiday party instead. Some festive music had been put on the sound system and everybody was have a generally good time drinking punch and chatting when all of a sudden, it happened. “All I Want for Christmas is You” came over the speakers and the girls in the room lost control, clutching each other, singing, and dancing like those famous followers of Dionysus, except without all the bother of cruelty, murder, and mayhem. It was four minutes of pandemonium the likes of which I had never seen, an image that haunts and confuses me to this day.

Exhibit B: November 2005, Offices of Principal Resources. It was a normal workday around the office, a day filled with fear and loathing as my co-workers and I struggled to make it to the end with what little shreds of our dignity and sanity we could manage to hang on to. The melodic tones of 102.9 Lite FM drifted through our cubicles, emanating from our telephone speakers and reverberating down the hall into a nothingness that could only begin to imitate the nothingness of that stations music lineup. Without warning, “All I Want for Christmas is You” began playing and drove the women of the office into a frenzy. They began singing and excitedly chattering about “loving this song sooooooo much.” Now, this may not sound all that extraordinary, but compared to the usual subdued nature of these individuals, their reaction marked an explosion of reckless abandon due to this song. Jason, the other male of the office, and I did the only sensible thing: hid under our desks and waited for the song to change.

Exhibit C: Later November 2005, 1715 Lindig Street. It was the end of another long day and I was happily brushing my teething, attempting to stave off decay from at least one part of my body and thinking about what I needed to get done the next morning. Megan was in bed with her Lappy making preparations to watch our nightly episode of Friends, one of the more enjoyable parts of may day to be sure. As I placed my toothbrush in its “floating fish” toothbrush holster, I heard from my left (your right) a sharp *click* *click* and the beginnings of Mariah’s irrepressible “All I Want for Christmas is You.” Like a woman possessed, Megan sprang to her feet on the bed and began shaking her hips in a spitting image of the Supreme’s performing their hit “Stop in the Name of Love,” complete with imaginary microphone. She then proceeded to sing the entire song while bopping around the room and otherwise having a hi-ho time. Flabbergasted by her behavior, I quickly grabbed my camera in an attempt to finally obtain some photographic evidence of the effects of this ode to holiday cheer. The results can be seen below.



What is it about the song that causes girls to lose their damn minds? Is it the irrepressible beat, the themes of love and dedication, or a secret frequency being tested by the government for mind control purposes? I honestly haven’t a clue, but I do know that it is wise to exercise extreme caution whenever you find your ears beset by the melodious tones of Ms. Carey within 60 days of the Winter Solstice. Good luck everybody!

An Update

Hello everybody. As of late, I’ve been writing a fair number of “point of view” pieces or articles about things that interest me, which I’ve found really rewarding and enjoyable. However, the secondary purpose of this blog (second to providing an outlet for my ramblings) is to let people know what is going on in my life. Alright, here it goes…

I suppose the biggest thing that happened recently is that Megan and I celebrated our one year anniversary as a couple. That’s right, Frank Wambach has now dated a girl for a whole year! Amazing, miracles really do happen. Megs and I get to see each other a fair amount since she is still going to school at the U, but her moving to Burnsville makes things tough occasionally. Oh well, what relationship doesn’t have its little things that make it a struggle? All in all, things are very well between us, and the Megatron remains my best friend and closest confidant. If you have not met her yet, please, the next time you are in town, let me know and I will introduce you. She’s somebody you just gotta meet!

I am still working as a relationship manager at Principal Resources doing finance work and am starting to get a little better at it. Everyday seems to have its own special crisis, when the fate of the free world hinges upon our ability to enter data into a computer as fast as humanly possible. I’m learning quite a lot about the business world working there, but more importantly also learning about who I am, what I want out of life, and how I’m going to get it. It’s amazing to me that at 23 years old I’ve been able to learn as many things about myself as I have; kinda alarming in some ways, yet reassuring in others. Hard to explain the way it makes me feel.

Still teaching dance 1 day a week which will soon move to 2 days a week. Sometimes I think that I might have made a mistake coming back since it takes quite a bit of my free time up, but it is a great creative outlet for me. The kids down at Fusion are doing a great job this year, I’ve been very impressed by the progress they have made. Pretty remarkable to think that just 3 years ago, those kids were just starting to learn how to dance like it mattered, now they are scholarship and competition winners. Amazing.

It pains me to say that I’ve been having trouble finding time to do the things that I really enjoy; taking crazy photographs, reading crazy books, and going on crazy adventures. I think that’s kinda the way it goes during these years though, you spend a lot of time doing things you have to do rather than things you want to do, which is sad, yet necessary. I guess all we can really hope for is an opportunity to do what it is we think we want, and that we’re lucky enough that it makes us happy when we get the chance.

I miss a lot of people like crazy. Phil, Rory, Ta, Army Mark, Markadelphia, Jake, Craig… Sometimes it feels like I’m doomed to constantly lose my friends, like a giant magnet is deliberately polarizing them against me and flinging them about the world in reaction to my attempts to get closer. It isn’t anybody’s fault per say, it’s just the way life works at this age, like a giant river carrying us off in our own little boats for parts unknown.

Anyway, I’m starting to ramble. Overall, things are good. I’ve got a job, a good place to live, a great family, and a great girl. What more could a 23 year old guy ask for? Well ok, maybe a sports car and an HD TV would improve my life marginally, but my point is that, for the most part, everything is hunky-dory in this little corner of the world.

Civic Embarassment

I finished work at 5:04 PM, exhausted as usual and looking at another night of trying to get things done. It really is amazing how things seem to stack up, as if some mad scientist is simply stacking the odds higher and higher against me in the hopes of finding my breaking point. “Well Mr. Scientist, you shall not taste victory today!” is my standard retort to this daily examination, and all I can do is hope that, for at least one more day it remains true.

Since it was Thursday, I made my way over to the gym to try and restore some of the physical prowess that left me so long ago. Hard to believe that at one point I was almost 200 lbs. of vigorous human considering my current lank-a-licious state. As Jackie, the lady who cuts my hair, said the other day, “Frankie, you’re looking a little skinny. When are you gonna start pumping some iron again?” I’m trying Jackie, believe me I’m trying.

As I wound my way through Golden Valley passing other hard working people on their way home and gas stations looking to gouge them as deeply as possible, I listened to a story on MPR about an elderly woman and her trouble with heating. You see, natural gas prices are expected to rise right around 40% here in Minnesota, making it rather difficult for some people that don’t have much to get by. The story focused on the ways that she tried to stay warm during the winter including layers of blankets at night, sleeping with her dog for warmth, and visiting department stores for a bit of relief from the cold during the day when it gets dangerously cold.

The lady was a cripple, completely unable to work because of a back injury sustained in her previous occupation. Her monthly income between disability and social security was right around $800 while her monthly rent was a little over $500, leaving right around $300 to cover all her other expenses including food, transportation, utilities, and treats for the grand kids when they visit (what gramma doesn’t have treats for the little ones when they come over?).

At its core, the story was about how the federal government helps subsidize people’s heating costs to a certain extent, but not really enough to keep them afloat, something that will likely being exacerbated by increasing heating costs. In this case, this elderly woman, though she cuts every corner imaginable, even at the expense of her health (she has arthritis which causes her extreme pain when it is cold in the house), she can’t really afford to heat her house and is currently indebted to the government.

How can we as a country live with ourselves when things like this happen? How can we have any sense of civic pride when we leave our sick to die in the wake of disaster, our hungry to starve without a real effort at relief, and our elderly to freeze because they simply can’t afford to pay anymore? Is the most wealthy, proud, and powerful country in the world completely impotent to act benevolently towards its citizenry?

It filled me with such despair to hear that this was happening, such a bitter sense of hopelessness. I know, I know, there are undoubtedly people out there who could justify this by saying she deserved to be living in this state for one reason or another, and still others who will waste no time hurling their “love it or leave it” platitudes at me just as fast and furiously as they can. The bottom line is any country that thinks as highly of itself as America does has some pretty high standards to live up to, and this is a case where, I'm sorry, but we have failed utterly.

To be honest, listening to this story as it unfolded from my car door speakers and echoed through my conscience, it was the first time in my life that I was truly embarrassed of the United States. It embarrassed me that our country would allow any of its citizens to live like this, that it would allow a poor woman incapable of working to freeze.

We can do better than that.

Megatron

Megan.

I’ll be honest everybody. When you meet my girl, it’s completely understandable that you would think she is just another blonde without a clue. For whatever reason, the Megatron tries real hard to convince us all that she’s a space cadet of the first degree, a girl with few priorities beyond securing pretty things for her fingers, hair, and toes.

DON’T BE FOOLED!!! IT’S A TRICK!!!

Granted, there’s no way Girl is coming up with the solution to cold fusion, but then again, who is? My point is that it is extremely unwise to count Megs out, underestimate or turn your back on her. She has a tenacity that could inspire an Amazon (think Patty Smith’s “The Warrior,” one of the songs that always makes me think of Megs) and a self righteous streak that would make Michael Moore look positively apologetic. Let me give you an example…

Last winter, Megs and I went to New York for New Years. We walked all over Midtown and Central Park, something like 10 miles total after being up at 4 AM to catch a bus to the Big Apple from Washington DC. At about 6 PM we went to Times Square to line up for the ball drop and were not allowed to leave for any reason whatsoever. After about an hour worth of waiting, Megan announced that she needed to pee and wanted to know what our options were. The local police officers informed us that our options were to get out of line, find a deli or other local eatery, and enjoy the incomparable sensation of an empty bladder, but lose our space in line OR to grin and bear it. Megs ended up holding it for five hours folks, WITHOUT ONE SINGLE COMPLAINT! Could your gal do that?

Anyway, so she’s tough. But Girl’s got brains too. For example, this winter Megs will graduate with a degree in Retail Merchandising and a minor in Spanish (oh yeah, she’s basically fluent in Spanish) with over a 3.2 GPA while working close to 40 hours a week during her past 3 years in school. Impressive, no? This summer she studied for 6 weeks in Venezuela where she basically had no choice but to speak Spanish and was able to come away with solid A's in every class. As anyone that has studied abroad can tell you, pulling quality grades in a difficult situation such as that is no small accomplishment.

Of course, Megan’s greatest strength is neither her toughness or her raw intelligence, though she certainly has plenty of both. What I find so incredibly enchanting about her is her intuition for what it takes to make things ok. At her core, Megan is a girl that wants people to be happy, wants people to smile and laugh and enjoy themselves and she is willing to do whatever it takes to make that happen. It is a rare wisdom to find in a person and the quality that makes me so hopelessly hers.

That’s why she’s my baby. My Megatron.

Inspired by “Here Comes My Baby” by Cat Stevens

A Brief Whine

Over the past few weeks, for the first time in my life as I remember it, I have not felt like myself. Granted, there have been occasions in the past where I have felt estranged from myself or disembodied in an uncomfortable way (a few notable encounters with tequila come to mind), but I have never felt a long-term separation from all that I think of myself as being like I have recently.

Some of this comes from the fact that I’ve started a new job with a new routine, and that always leads to a period of adjustment and redefinition of who you are. I have to say I kind of expected to change a little bit because of this, but I didn’t think it would leave me with this void of self-doubt and confusion about who I was and what I stood for. It’s hard to be locked into a routine that doesn’t allow me time to enjoy who and what I am and pursue who I want to be. The only way I can describe the way my day makes me feel right now is “stagnation,” a striking difference from the hope and optimism provided to me nearly every day by the vitality of the U’s campus. For the first time in my life, I don’t feel like I’m getting better, and it bother’s me terribly.

A bigger portion of it, undoubtedly, is that I feel like most of the people I enjoy really talking with just aren’t around anymore and that my opportunities for quality conversation are few and far between. This might not seem like a big deal, but to an individual that thrives on talking about what is going on or what could be going on, it is personality crowbar that has quickly and efficiently dislodged me from myself.

I know, I know, I sound like the biggest whiner in the world and I am truly sorry that I don’t have something more interesting to write about at the moment. What I’m trying to say through this whole mediocre post is that it’s very hard to stay who I am when I can’t do the things that make me “Me.” How long can we be somebody else before it becomes who we are and replaces who we were? Do we ever have a choice about any of this? Probably not is my guess. Our only option is to go with the flow and try and hang on to a small shred of who we thought we might have been at one time.

Change certainly is inevitable, and the better we are at accepting it the easier life becomes. But that doesn’t change the fact that I miss who I was and am unsure about who I am. Mostly I miss talking with Rory, Ta, Grant, and Mark and looking so confidently down the road towards a better tomorrow.

Born to Run

“In the day we sweat it out in the streets of a runaway American dream
At night we ride through mansions of glory in suicide machines”

I think everybody has moments where they connect with songs. Badly Drawn Boy would have us believe that “songs, are never quite the answer, just the soundtrack to a life that is over all too soon,” but I find that songs can often times give me whatever it is I need, be it a pick-me-up for my soul or a reason to get up and boogie down. A great song is a song that you just can’t help but get caught up in, an anthem that just sits right in all your joints and swirls around your consciousness, unlocking secret caverns of thought and emotion that had previously been shrouded by the meaningless noise of the world. Great songs make me feel right and good in a way that is hard to describe and impossible to reproduce.

“Baby this town rips the bones from your back
It’s a death trap, it’s a suicide rap
We gotta get out while we’re young”

Sometimes I get these urges to run that are almost impossible to fight. It’s as if my soul suddenly has a seizure and decides that what’s going on here just isn’t happening anymore and that the grass is greener on the other side, wherever that other side may be. Something tells me that everybody has times where they feel like running, where they feel like things can’t possibly get better and that the only thing to do is strike out for something new and, hopefully, a shot at redemption. The difference between this feeling and mine is that mine is not created by despair, but rather this force that simply emerges and then vanishes. It’s this urge to run just as fast and far as I can until the exhaustion of the world drags me back into its clutches.

“Cause baby I’m just a scared and lonely rider
But I gotta know how it feels
I want to know if your love is wild
Girl I want to know if love is real”

I often think it would be nice for Megs and I to just pack up our stuff and head out for someplace new. I find myself often day dreaming of what our lives would be like living in Phoenix or New York and what a grand adventure it would be. I think about how great it would be for the two of us to experience something new together and how romantic it would be to be lost in the wonder of the world with nothing but each other.

“The highway’s jammed with broken heroes
On a last chance power drive
Everybody’s out on the run tonight
But there’s no place left to hide”

I guess I’ve been thinking about this unnerving habit of mine because of my most recent reading project: Jack Kerouac’s On the Road. My biggest, and definitely most unexpected, insight into the book is the way Kerouac talks about his Aunt that is constantly sending him money. It makes me think that the only way a life of freedom on the road, the life that blazes so beautifully in Kerouac’s words and so hauntingly in my dreams, is only possible when it is supported by those who choose to stay still rather than run. The only reason Kerouac survives on the road is because his Aunt, working back in the East, generously sends him money for food and supplies. It occurs to me that the central theme of the story, Kerouac’s quest for freedom on the road, is directly impacted by this. It seems hard to view Kerouac as truly free when he must rely on others to survive even though he may be the perfect embodiment of the unfettered soul in every other imaginable aspect. So there you have it, either you can be financially free and tied to your job and location, or you can be spiritually free and be utterly dependent upon the generosity and sacrifice of others for survival. Seems to me like it’s a hard choice to make: what way do you want to be free?

“Someday girl I don’t know when
We’re gonna get to that place
Where we really want to go
And we’ll walk in the sun
But till then tramps like us
Baby we were born to run”

Drifting Apart

Grant Schwartz is the most mysterious person I have ever met. Someone utterly in love with humanity but completely unsure that it deserved to be saved. A total flake, but at the end of the day, the first person I think of when I reminisce on laughs and good times. For a long time, I wanted Grant’s friendship more than any other person’s on the planet, and that’s saying something because, let’s be honest, I dig people and crave friends like a drummer craves rhythm. In some ways, we were friends and remain friends to this day, certainly never becoming hostile to each other or exchanging bitter words over events that simply didn’t matter anymore. But in others, we were friends for only a very brief moment in time, while the rest of our relationship, like all of reality, has been largely composed of empty air and missed collisions.

I met Grant my sophomore year of college, undoubtedly the craziest year of my life. I was living with Ta in Middlebrook and doing my very best to live it up while the living was good, throwing parties and meeting people left and right. Grant lived two doors down from us and was living with the classic “worst nightmare” roommate (smelly, anti-social, petty, etc.), which meant that he was looking for decent local company in the worst way possible.

From the moment I met him, I was struck with the impression that Grant was one of the most earnest, soulful people I had ever met. He was artistic and creative to a spooky degree with an insatiable thirst for good books, yet real enough that he would spend a whole day doing nothing but drinking and playing video games. In other words, one eclectic fucker. It was the first time I had met another person with the same wandering in them, that had the same experience of suffering sudden shifts of the soul as I did. And it was great.

For the first time in my life, I felt like I could talk to somebody and have them understand what I meant rather than what I said, which if you’ve never experienced it, is a life changing ordeal. It was never so much what I talked about with Grant, since essentially no subject was left untouched, as the way he changed the conversation, filling it with a hope and vitality I had never sensed before. Our conversations gave me the feeling that we were actually solving something, actually making some progress, though whether that was actually the case remains doubtful in my mind. But that’s the point: it didn’t matter, and still doesn’t matter, because the feeling was the important thing, the holy thing.

My experience with Grant reached its peak the night he, Ta, Adam, Pat, and myself stayed awake till almost 5 AM discussing human civilization, its origins and failures, and ways things could be better. It was such a thorough rearranging of everything I had taken for granted for so long that, in some ways, I still haven’t recovered my faith and pride in human civilization as it exists now. See, Grant was a big fan of a writer named Daniel Quinn, most famously the author of the book Ishmael, and our conversation was his first successful attempt at arguing civilization as it exists today, not western civilization but ALL human civilization, cannot hope to survive. Of course the argument has flaws in it, big ones actually, but again, it didn’t matter, because we were excited about trying to make this a better world.

There were a few other great times, like when Grant moved in to Ta and my room because he couldn’t stand his weirdo roommate any longer, but otherwise our friendship slowly deteriorated after that point. I tried as hard as I could to be friends with Grant, but for whatever reason, he just wasn’t in anymore, and that was kind of that. Sure I mildly resented it at first and there are times where I’m upset that he can’t be enough of a friend to at least call me back. But what I’ve come to understand is that he recognized life was carrying him down a road separate from mine and that, though it was it was upsetting and unfortunate, there was very little either of us could do to stop it. I’m sure he knew how I felt, that he was a flake and a poor friend, which undoubtedly upset him, but the fact remained that there was nothing to be done except move on to whatever was next.

Of all the people I met over my college career, Grant is the one I miss seeing the most. The man has a zest for life that would put Kerouac to the test and a sense of fun that makes zoo monkeys seem like dull layabouts. And yeah, I miss the intelligence, the laughs, the booze, and the video games. But what I miss most is the feeling that things can and will get better; that the world is a beautiful, wonderful place just waiting to be enjoyed. I miss feeling like we can make a difference and that if we believe in something strongly enough there isn’t anything capable of deterring us. There aren’t enough people with that kind of exuberance in the world and they’re hard to replace when they’re gone.

Scotty Doesn't Know!!!

Scotty doesn't know!!!!
Scotty doesn't know!!!!
Don't tell Scotty, cause Scotty Doesn't know!!!!

A Sinful Act

Today I committed a most sinful act.

Murder? No, the Caboose is still alive and well (though I vow that kid is on borrowed time sometimes).

Dishonoring my mother and father? Nope, if anything, merely being associated with me is the greatest honor they could ever ask for, so it is hard to see how I could ever be a source of their dishonor. I am of course kidding (except I’m really not).

Theft? Nada. Still faithfully involved with the Megatron folks, which means, sadly, no ladies hearts were stolen today.

Then what was it?!?! Tell me already!!!

Today, I signed up at Costco. Yup, I’m officially paying to shop; $45 to be precise. $45 to peruse bottles of ketchup large enough for 832 years of “my throat has been slit!” practical jokes. $45 to pick my way through buckets of M&M’s that could easily be used to create playful pits of the chocolaty candies for young children to play in. You get the idea.

Normally I wouldn’t subscribe to such a self-serving service, one designed, quite overtly, to convince people to buy more and more until there is nothing left to buy and we all sit down and weep for our empty, hollow souls that have atrophied to the point that they cannot be satisfied by the natural beauty of life. However, one of my co-workers, Licia, the girl responsible for my indoctrination into “El Culto de Costco,” mentioned that Costco was a “blue company.” (In other words, they support Democrats) Man-o-man, this changed everything. Suddenly Costco was no longer a representative of the darkside, out to seduce and reduce me, but rather a champion of the light, delivering low prices and quality products to the oppressed. Or something like that.

Anyway, the line about Costco supporting Democrats worked its magic and, before I knew it, I had signed the dotted line and become the latest individual to experience the distinct pleasure of paying to shop. I have to say though, the place does look pretty cool, and the stuff they have, especially their steaks, looks really good and is much cheaper than even Cub or Target (which I didn’t think was humanly possible). We’ll see how it goes shopping at Costco, or as Licia refers to it, the “Diamond of St. Louis Park.”

On a side note, I feel like I should apologize for all the Republican bashing and pro-Democrat rhetoric being uttered on these pages. I know that it can make those who wish to remain on the political sidelines uncomfortable to read such statements, which I would like to avoid if at all possible. However, it’s my f’n blog and I’ll write what I dang well please in it.

And with that, adieu.

True Justice

An example of true justice.

Everyday I drive 394, undoubtedly the worst road yet created by mortal hands and a blight upon the souls of those who must navigate it’s malevolent curves daily. I know what you’re thinking at this moment; you’re thinking:

“Whatever Frank, what do you know about driving. I drive (insert roadway name or number here) everyday, now THAT’s tough.”

I don’t disagree with you; in fact I am utterly certain that everybody has a path they must cross everyday, be it physical or metaphysical, that is trying and demanding beyond measure. But to compare your difficult roads to mine is to compare Bill Clinton to George Bush; yours is simply naughty, mine is downright evil. Let me explain.

All roads have their jam up points and complaining about them is like complaining about the weather, an exercise in futility. However, most roadway communities display common courtesy during these moments of stopitude as a sense of “we’re all in this together” seems to takeover the pack. A perfect example of this is 35W during rush hour, a road that carries tremendous traffic but rarely seems to stop. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve seen some nutso stuff on 35W, but that’s just because it’s being driven by crazed construction workers on their way home after a long day, desperate for a bite and a brew. But for the most part, things move along and people are courteous to each other.

Not 394.

394 is overrun with rich jerks in their new BMW’s just desperate to show how much better they are than you. The chief way they display this expressway elitism is to zoom down the lane dedicated to those exiting on 94 west, pretending that Brooklyn Park or Maple Grove is their final destination, intending all the while to cut into the 1.5 mile long line to exit on 94 east at the very last moment possible. It wouldn’t be so bad if it happened rarely or if it were people that were down on their luck and needed SOME kind of break. Unfortunately, it is almost ALWAYS these bastards that look like they’re from New York (slicked black hair and goofy sunglasses) driving 50K sports sedans. It’s as if they’re saying “Who me? Wait in line? Hahaha, surely you must be joking dear boy!” Every time it happens, I wish I had a homing device that would cause every black fly in the northern Minnesota woods to descend upon their vehicles in a seething mass of unholy vengeance. I figure that would show them.

So where is the justice in all of this?

On Tuesday morning, as I was heading into work, I noticed that the highway patrol had taken up residency in the 394 carpool lane, meaning certain doom for anyone stupid enough to enter this concrete no-less-than-two man’s land. Lo and behold, not 500 feet beyond where I first spotted the patrol cars, was a lone Mercedes Benz stopped dead in its tracks by the crimson lights of the highway patrol. I let out a loud woop and pumped my fist in the air, tasting the sweet juices of justice that has been delivered to the oppressed.

Life on Lindig

Wow, been a little while since I’ve written in this bad boy. It’s amazing how easy it is to get sidetracked away from writing about what’s going on. So now that I’m back, let’s talk about what’s going on!

I’ve started a new job as a relationship manager for a capital group called Principal Resources. So far it’s a pretty good job; I got my stylin cubicle and computer and get to learn about neato finance stuff all day. The people there are pretty nice so far, though I occasionally get a weird vibe from them. Maybe it’s because I’m new. Or maybe it’s because they’re all republicans. Who knows.

Speaking of republicans, you’ve gotta just LOVE the game of semantics they’re playing with the whole “Karl Rove commits high treason, let’s figure out a way to save him” thing. It’s always so funny how a party that speaks so confidently and demandingly about self responsibility time and time again refuses to take responsibility for their actions. Good thing for them the United States has an insatiable appetite for hypocrisy; otherwise those folks would never get anywhere.

This past weekend I made it up to the cabin for the first time all year. Pretty unbelievable considering that there have been years where I have been up almost every weekend beginning in about May. Just more evidence that I keep getting busier I guess. The weather was nice, though it was windy, which made the fishing difficult. Always one to look on the bright side, however, I just took it as a sign that I should be reading books not casting lures. This insight led to me finishing Hyperion (one of the weirder sci-fi books I’ve read in a long, long while) and beginning On the Road by Jack Kerouac. We’ll see how On the Road goes; I hear it’s pretty good.

That’s about all that’s really new around here. Megan and I have been getting to see each other quite a lot over the past few weeks, which is a welcome change from her virtual exile down in Venezuela. Pete has gotten a job with Thompson West Publishing doing tech support for bookoo bucks, which of course means that Andrew has begun to lobby him relentlessly for a new HD TV. Andrew himself has gotten a job working for Minitext on campus, sorting books and carting them around. In other words, life is good at 1715 Lindig.

Aloha to "Aloha"

I’m kinda on a roll with these two day blog entries, and why ruin a good thing right? Anyway, this will be my last entry from the lovely islands of Hawaii so enjoy it while it lasts (note: this is not the last entry in the blog, just the last entry from Hawaii. Minnesotan on the Loose will continue as normal from lovely Minneapolis upon my return.). It has been a wonderful trip with lots of ups, downs, and all arounds. I’ll try and wrap it up as best I can.

Yesterday we explored downtown, specifically the Royal Palace (the only one in the United States) and the State Art Museum. We started off by taking the long way into town after a scrumptious breakfast at Anna Millers, definitely one of our favorite places to eat during our visit, and parked at a downtown parking garage. From there we walked up and through the Royal Palace grounds, enjoying a few of the plaques describing its significance and the sights of its walls. It isn’t breathtaking by any imagination, but it is a neat piece of history that was great to see and enjoy. Following that, the fam and I walked over to the highly acclaimed State Art Museum, which features works by native Hawaiians and works portraying/discussing Hawaii.

The works at the museum really are a great collection and proved to be very thought provoking, though not in the way the artists’ obviously intended. As should be expected, many works in the exhibit deal with the takeover of the islands by the United States and the gradual displacement of the Hawaiian population by foreigners. The works describe themselves as expressing a quiet outrage of the indigenous population at the loss of their land and pass heavy judgment against western culture (aka: white people) who have ruined their paradise. While I understand where they are coming from, the whole thing is just a little heavy-handed about it and, at some points, can be downright racist in its presentation. Most of the works are highly enjoyable though, and I would definitely recommend a visit just to get an idea of where the Hawaiian artistic community is going.

In the evening, we went out for dinner with my cousin Nick and his family to Bravo Italiano, an Italian restaurant relatively close to where we have been staying. It was a monumental effort for them to come out with us since one of Nick’s new babies, Jaime, was sick in the afternoon with sinus congestion and had to be taken to the doctor’s office. I can’t describe how grateful I am though that he decided to see us again, considering that this might be one of the only times I ever get to see him and his family. The whole thing was so surreal for me. I mean, I don’t exactly have run-ins with long-lost family all the time, especially ones that are already married, have children, and are leading exciting lives. It’s just wild to think that there is this whole world going on out here that, in a very small way, I am a part of and am related to. Suffice to say that Nick is a great guy, and anytime any of you are in Hawaii, be sure to let me know and I will have you look him up to say hi for me.

Today, I woke up early and headed down to Waikiki with my dad to catch some surfing before I head back to Minneapolis. Surfing was good and I caught 5-6 good rides and 2-3 ok rides before heading in. It is just insane how crowded it gets down there; it really is amazing that people don’t get run over by surf boards and sliced up all the time. After surfing, Dad and I headed back to the house and had some breakfast before running a few last errands. That pretty much brings us up to the present, which sees us backing our bags and cleaning the house getting ready to return to our homeland,: the Twin Cities.

Overall, it’s been a great trip. On the positive side, the scenery of the Hawaiian Islands, especially the less populated ones, really is breathtaking. There are endless things to do and see and it is entirely possible to spend a month thoroughly exploring everything there is to do on every island. For the most part, the people are very nice and friendly and will say hello to strangers walking down the street, which definitely makes it a more enjoyable experience. On the minus side, there is the constant worry while in Hawaii about theft since it is so rampant and heavily advertised (everywhere you go, people/guidebooks warn of possible thugs or thieves), something nobody should have to worry about no matter where they go. Additionally, it is hard to escape the obvious resentment Hawaiians feel toward tourists since they are often rude to them or mistreat them for no apparent reason other than they are not Hawaiian. This makes it hard to enjoy some activities or experiences simply because some, though not many, people make you feel incredibly unwelcome.

My overall recommendation, after visiting, would be to skip Oahu unless you have family and friends to visit or are dying to see the Banzai Pipeline. The islands of Hawaii, Kauai, and Maui all offer much more in terms of adventure and scenery and are far less crowded than Oahu, especially Honolulu and Waikiki. Don’t get me wrong, Oahu is great, but Kauai was spectacular, and I’ve heard that the Big Island and Maui are equally mesmerizing. Thus ends my blog of Hawaii. For the last time, aloha!

Hawaiian Rollercoaster Ride

Hawaii sure is a crazy place. I mean, it’s an island with a small population that is almost utterly dependant upon tourism to survive, yet crime, especially crime against tourists, is supposedly out of control. How does this make sense? There just aren’t that many people here, especially on smaller islands such as Kauai (right around 100,000 people), which should make it rather easy to find whoever is committing these crimes and take care of them. It’s not like they’re going to hop in a car and drive cross country to avoid being arrested…because they can’t! I would think that the big hotels on the island, who have an interest in tourists feeling safe, would pressure the local government to step up enforcement and crime would come to a screeching halt. That’s one weird thing.

Another is the convoluted road system, especially around Honolulu. Since there is so little room on an island for roadways, city planners have had to be extremely creative with the way they have made highways and local roads intersect. I’m 100% positive that this creativity impresses the hell out of other city planners around the world, but makes driving Honolulu a confusing ordeal for visitors. The funniest part about the road system has to be the three main highways on Oahu; the H1, H2, and, you guessed it, the H3. These roads are all great to drive, especially the H2 and H3, which pass through incredible scenery and are true wonders of engineering. The only thing is, these roads are labeled as “Interstates”… Somebody tell me again exactly which other states these roads intertwine with? The state of confusion? A state of shock? Very confusing stuff.

Things aren’t all doom and gloom here though, and two days ago was a perfect example of that. We headed out early in the morning for Kailua, reputedly the best beach on Oahu and one of the best beaches in the entire United States. My brother and I had arranged to take windsurfing lessons at 9:30 AM with Kailua Kayaks and Sailboards, something I had always wanted to try. Considering that Kailua Beach is one of the top windsurfing spots in the world, especially for beginners, it seemed like a great opportunity to learn. We arrived on time and walked down to the beach to meet with our instructor Aaron, a nice guy and a great windsurfer who originally hails from the Hoosier State of Indiana. The lesson started out with us doing some land work on the “million dollar simulator” – two pieces of wood with a swivel joint and a place to stick a practice sail in. After going through the motions on land and getting the hang of how everything worked and what all the pieces of equipment were (board, sail, boom, mast, universal joint), we hit the water and started sailing! Kinda.

As with any new activity or sport, it was tough going at first. I kept falling off the board, losing my balance, or losing control of my sail, which made it hard to get going in one direction for any length of time. After awhile though, things started to click, and right around 45 minutes into the lesson, I was sailing out to sea never to return! I’m serious about the never returning stuff. You see, it’s easy sailing downwind, which is of course how you start out since it makes sense to start off with the easiest thing first. However, in this case, sailing down wind took me out in the ocean a good ways rather quickly, which then begs the question, how do I get back? Sail upwind of course! Now, we had been taught how to do this, but sailing upwind is much more difficult than sailing downwind and takes longer to get used to. This produced a net effect of me shooting far out into Kailua Bay in about 35-40 seconds and returning to shore after 30 minutes of struggling. Quite the hilarious sight.

Windsurfing is great fun and I’m really glad I learned how to do it. My instructor said I was doing pretty well, since by the end of the lesson, I was tacking back upwind pretty well and reaching my intended destination. Kailua Beach, on a side note, is by far the most beautiful beach I have been to in the United States. The water and sand really remind me of Australian beaches, with soft white sand and sweeping turquoise water. Gorgeous stuff. After Andrew and I were done windsurfing, we hung out at the beach a bit longer then headed back to Nancy’s place, took care of a few quick errands (aka: picked up photos from scuba diving!), ate dinner, and grabbed some rest. Man alive was I tired at the end of that night.

Yesterday we woke up early and headed down to Waikiki Beach for some surfing action. At long last some surfing. After all, what is a trip to Hawaii with out some time on a board? We got down there pretty early, like 9 AM, and the beach was already getting full. The first order of business was securing a board for the day, something we accomplished by going to a rental shop a short ways up the road where the guy working behind the counter didn’t speak English very well, which definitely begs the question “What are you doing running a shop on Waikiki when you don’t speak English?!?!?” Argh! Anyway, I eventually got my point across and got myself a board for some wave riding then headed down to the beach.

The waves on Waikiki were really good, nice long gentle waves, perfect for beginners and advanced beginners (like me!). After a few snafus, I got back in the rhythm of things and caught a few nice rides. It’s amazing how crowded it gets out there though, with right around 40 or 50 surfers waiting on the same break, which is pretty dangerous and means that you have to dodge people as you’re riding in. Oh well, just part of the experience I guess. Andrew and Dad both gave it a go on the board, but came back in shaking their heads muttering “I suck” rather loudly. Haha, oh well, they’ll get better. The sun was really cooking yesterday, and I was very glad that I picked up a rash guard (aka: rashy) since it prevented the sun from burning a hole directly through the center of my back. Great day of surfing action.

A note to all the guys out there: if you want to see gorgeous girls, head to Waikiki. Suffice to say the number of amazing girls there was ridiculous, which you would expect with it being Waikiki and all, but still, pretty amazing to see. Kinda makes you dizzy after awhile.

Anyway, after surfing our brains out for like 5 hours, we returned the board and decided to hike up Diamond Head, the crater/cliff on the eastern end of Honolulu. It was a good hike up, no where near as intense as the hikes we did on Kauai, but still strenuous. The view from the top was pretty neat as it overlooks all of Waikiki and Honolulu as well as the suburbs to the north and east. After hiking back down, we settled on a place to eat, La Cucaracha (I know, how cheesy!), and headed back into Waikiki to locate it. It was a long walk to the restaurant, but it was well worth it, as the food was excellent (dare I say the best Mexican I have ever had???) and reasonably priced. It’s important to note the context of this restaurant experience to get an idea of what a find it was. Most of the restaurants in the vicinity of Waikiki are extremely touristy and overpriced, or in other words, serve average to mediocre American food for $15-25. La Cucaracha on the other hand was great Mexican food in an uncrowded atmosphere for around $10-15 per person. Great stuff.

Day over, we headed back home, had a few beers, and crashed. *Whew*, that was a long post to get through. Only two more days left in paradise, then back to Minneosta and my lovely girl, who will be returning from Venezuela. Hope everybody has enjoyed reading her posts as much as I have. Thats all for now, aloha!

Today Two Days

I’m sure everybody is gasping in shock that I didn’t update my blog yesterday. Sorry about that, but I didn’t get home till late and didn’t have a good opportunity to write anything down. I’ll try and make up for it today as best I can.

Yesterday was another low-key day around Honolulu. I talked for a bit on the phone with Megs, who is nearing the end of her stay in Venezuela and has really enjoyed her trip down there. It’s always funny talking to somebody that has or is studying abroad to me as its always interesting to hear what they enjoyed, what they’ve missed, and what they’re most looking forward to seeing/doing. Sure will be good to have her back in Minnesota when I return.

Anyway, like I was saying, yesterday was relatively low-key, mostly because it was raining most of the day, which made it hard to get out and enjoy the outdoors. We made an early grocery run and I dropped off the film from our scuba adventure to have it developed, which I will hopefully have tomorrow to share with people. The big excitement for the day was visiting with my long lost cousins Nick and Noah, two family members I have only met one other time in my conscious life and people I think about quite often. At around 4:30 PM we drove over to the west side of the island to Nick’s place and met up with our cousins and their families. I’m sure anybody that has had a family reunion with distant relatives (in my case geographical distance rather than distant relation) can relate to, things started out a little awkwardly for everybody, both because everybody was trying very hard and because nobody really knows how to act around people that they should know well, but don’t. After some lengthy discussion though, we all ended up getting along just fine and the evening progressed along very nicely.

Nick and Noah are always an interesting subject to me, primarily because of the fact that they are native Hawaiians, something that seems to undeniably separate them from the rest of us. This has always been rather puzzling to me, mostly because, when I think about it, they are as closely related to me as any of my other cousins, all of which I know very will and have spent considerable time with while I was growing up. It has always been a sore point with me that I don’t know them as well as my other cousins, both because I have been unable (until now) to really visit them as an adult and because, quite bluntly, I have always been uncertain whether or not they would even want to meet me if I did make the effort. It always feels as if they have turned their backs on the Wambach portion of their heritage and don’t want much to do with us, even though I sincerely doubt that’s the case and have absolutely no reason to think that. Just a vibe I get when they come up in conversation. The bottom line is that they are just as family as any of my other relatives and I am very glad to have finally seen them at a time when it meant something to me.

So that was yesterday. Today we decided to circumnavigate the island, something Tony, Nick and Noah’s father, recommended we do. To start with, we drove up the west (referred to here as “leeward”) side of the island, which is an area few tourists visit, and you can see why. There is very little to do on this portion of the island, a portion that is primarily dry and poor for the most part, which means, quite unsurprisingly, that it is the side of the island that houses the greatest number of Hawaiians. It sure does seem that everywhere we go, we have a way of turning the current occupants into second class citizens in a real hurry and without much mercy. Anyway, much of the land on the leeward side is controlled by the US military, which uses the lush, picturesque valleys of the area for bombing drills and war games, loudly proclaiming to all that drive by that admission is not allowed and that people should beware of explosives. Seems rather odd to be using a part of paradise to be doing this kind of activity. Isn’t there a chunk of North Dakota that could be blown to smithereens without anybody but the cattle noticing?

After making it to the end of the road on the leeward side, we headed back to Nancy’s to get some lunch and cold water before heading over to the east or “windward” side of the island to visit the Byodo-In, a Buddhist temple modeled after a 900 year old temple in Uji, Japan. To get there, we took the H3 east through the valley, passing through some cool tunnels and torrential downpours. The temple was really a sight to behold, nestled in against the cliff face shrouded in cloud and mist, a blazing red challenge to the somber countryside. We walked around the grounds for a good while, snapped a bunch of photos, then set off in the Honda Civic again, this time for the much famed North Shore. For those that don’t know, the North Shore of Oahu is the most famous surfing destination in the world, home of Waimea Beach, Sunset Beach, and the Banzai Pipeline, some of the most famous surfing breaks in the world. Unfortunately, it’s summer, which means that these winter surf bears are currently hibernating under the guise of serene snorkeling beaches.

The drive was pleasant though, hugging the coast all the way north, ducking through small towns and villas bursting with people at the beach. We rented some snorkel gear at a surf shop near Pupukea Beach and dived into the cove for a short bout of snorkeling before heading home. Snorkeling at Pupukea was great, with beautiful fish darting all about and interesting coral formations dotting the bottom. Finally, we headed for home, showered up, ate some dinner, and otherwise unwound from the day. Tomorrow I’m going windsurfing for the first time in my life, something I’m really looking forward to. Until tomorrow, aloha!

I'm Goin Back to Honolulu, Back to Where I Started From...

Well, after the maelstrom of activity we have had over the past few days, today was a relatively calm, sane day here in Hawaii. I started the day off by waking up just before sunset and walking over to the orchid garden in our resort to snap some photos while the light was good and managed to get a few neat shots. Pictures taken, I headed back to the room for some food and coffee where we made a few plans for the coming day.

We decided to start off the day by taking care of a little light shopping then visiting the National Botanical Gardens just down the street from the resort. There we walked around the visitor center and viewed the demonstration gardens though we didn’t take either of the tours available, mostly because they would take a long time and were really expensive ($30 per person). Anyway, after spending a bit of time in the garden, we drove up out of Poipu, through Lihue, and on to Wailua Falls, our second waterfall viewing of the week. Wailua Falls are a much more mainstream tourist attraction on Kauai since there is no hiking necessary to view the cascading water, only a short drive with easy parking directly across the street from the falls. It’s a spectacular sight, but bad weather has eroded the path down to the base of the falls, meaning that it can only be enjoyed from the one view provided from the road. After snapping a few photos we declared the falls seen and headed back into town for some lunch.

For lunch we decided to visit Kilohana Plantation, an old sugar plantation that has been converted into a series of shops selling various trinkets, art, and jewelry created on Kauai. The building itself is the most expensive house ever built on Kauai and is a palatial estate, sitting on 26,000 acres of land with a 15,000 square foot house. After lunch, we toured around the shops a bit, but didn’t find anything we really liked and headed back out to enjoy the rest of the day. Back in Lihue, we decided to visit the Kauai Museum, a great little museum with exhibits detailing Kauai’s creation, its early inhabitants, and modern history. The museum was really old school with a few musty dioramas and lots of typos in all the descriptions, but had some otherwise good information. We all agreed, however, that the museum would have been a much better attraction upon first coming to the island since the information it presents isn’t stuff you generally care about much on the way out. Oh well, it was still fun.

Following the museum, we headed to the airport to drop off the car and catch our flight back to Oahu. At the desk, the lady helping us bumped us up a flight so that we wouldn’t have to wait so long in the airport lobby, moving us from 5:50 to 4:45 PM, cutting almost an hour out our wait time. This turned out to be a fairly pointless move since the plane we boarded at 4:45 experienced mechanical failures that prevented it from taking off, forcing us to grab all our stuff off the plane, head back into the terminal, and board a different plane to Oahu. The crew was incredibly friendly and apologetic about the whole ordeal, which was nice but kind of unnecessary since I’m sure everybody would rather have them get a different plane than fly a broken one over the ocean.

Back in Oahu, we grabbed Nancy, my aunt’s, car from the parking lot and set off in search of some much needed dinner. I suggested that we try a small Italian place near the college called Auntie Pastos, something everybody agreed to readily and we found with fairly little difficulty. The food was good, dessert was awesome, and we headed back home for some rest. That brings us up to about now, with me finishing up my blog for the day and signing off for some sleep. Adios y buenos noches everybody.

Somewhere, Beyond the Sea

The great thing about islands is the incredible variety of activities that are available to keep an individual entertained. While yesterday focused on the land based activity of hiking, today centered squarely on the aquatic pastime of scuba diving, one of the most unique ways of viewing the world to be found anywhere. The great thing about scuba diving is, though it requires a fair amount of knowledge concerning equipment and a good level of comfort around water, it is an incredibly easy activity from a physical perspective, making it the perfect way to recover from our grueling hike yesterday. Or so it seemed…

To start the day, Andrew and my dad had to meet the instructors for an introductory lesson and pool dive at 9:45 down the road at the dive shop. Mom and I dropped them off then headed back to the resort to take care of a few things around the room, most notably a load of laundry and a few emails. Shortly after dropping the two compadres off at the dive shop, we received a call at the room from them notifying us that Andrew had left his swimsuit at home and would need it to be delivered for the pool dive portion of his lesson. I frantically searched the room to find my room key, finally locating it beneath my journal, and headed out to make my delivery to the Hyatt Regency. Unfortunately for me, the pool lesson was not being given at the Hyatt Regency but the Embassy Suites, something I only figured out after extensively searching the seemingly endless pools of the Hyatt and failing to locate even one scuba diver. Honestly, what hotel needs 12 pools?!?!

Eventually I realized my mistake and found the scuba divers in training in time for their pool dive. From there I headed back to the room, finished my email writing, and left to pick up the guys after their lesson. We grabbed a few burritos from a small taco stand, snarfed them down quick, and got ourselves ready for some sweet diving action! At 12:45, we met back up at the dive shop and went through a few pre-dive briefings before getting on the boat and heading out for our first of two dives.

The first dive we made was to a location known as Stone House, a relatively flat boat dive around 45-50 feet deep. Visibility on the day was incredibly, ranging anywhere from 80 to 90 feet of visibility with water temps right around 80 degrees Fahrenheit. As a small comparison, when I did my open water dives, the instructors were ecstatic that we had 20 feet of visibility and 65 degree surface temps, considering it one of the best days of diving they had ever seen on Perch Lake. Anyway, suffice to say the dive was spectacular with great views of colorful coral and unique endemic fish species such as the Millet Seed Butterfly, Frog Fish, Anemone Crabs, Hawaiian Cleaner Ras, and a cool little Octopus. After our first dive, we boated over to our second dive spot for the day, Sheraton Caverns, reputedly the best dives spot in all of Kauai. It was an amazing dive through lava tubes and archways with cool tunnels that opened into hidden underwater crevices. The coolest thing about the dive was the numerous Green Sea Turtles swimming about the area resting and other unique species such as Wire Coral Gobies and Ornate Butterflies.

Dad and Drew did very well on their first dives today, thoroughly enjoying their first experience underwater. Andrew got a little sea sick on the boat and generously donated his burrito to the fish, but the rest of the dive went off without a hitch and I have to say that it was one of the best dive operations I have experienced so far. After the dives, we headed back to the resort, showered up, and went to dinner at Brenekes down the street, savoring the delicious Mahi Mahi and other tasty seafood dishes. It’s been three great days of adventure in a row now, which has been nothing but wonderful to experience. Tomorrow we will do a few cleanup things such as Wailua Falls and some light shopping before heading back to Oahu in the evening and continuing our escapades in full force. Ciao ya’ll.

You say Na Pali, I say No Problem

What an unbelievable island.

Today we hiked the Kualolo trail along the Na Pali coast of Kauai’s north shore, easily regarded as the best hike to be found in the Hawaiian Islands and regarded as a strenuous walk even for experienced hikers. Starting off at our usual hour of 6:30 AM, we headed from Poipu (south side) to the Lihue (east side) to garner ourselves a few park permits. Officially, visitors to the Na Pali coast are required to have hiking permits, but from the sounds of it, very few people actually come and get them before heading out on the trails. During the discussion of whether or not to get a permit, my dad pointed out the kind of luck he has had in situations like this which convinced the rest of us, rather quickly actually, that playing it safe and getting a permit was going to be infinitely preferable to getting stopped along the way and forced back just because we don’t have a stinkin piece of paper.

Arriving at the office for the Division of State Parks, I bounded into the building and up the stairs to scope out the situation. The people who work in this particular Hawaiian government office have got to be the least helpful, slowest employees I have ever seen. It took me a good 10 minutes just to get somebody to tell me that I needed my ID to get a permit and that my family needed to be there too. Once we were all there, it was another 10 minutes to get somebody to talk to us again (bear in mind, wee were the only non-employees in the whole place) and begin processing our request. All in all, it took us a little over 35 minutes to get a free permit and a map, literally 30 seconds worth of work on a laser printer and a quick wrist motion to open a drawer and grab a map. Unreal.

Unnecessary permits procured, we struck out north in search of mountains and high adventure. Along the way, we drove through endless scenic towns including Wailua, Kilauea, and Princeville. The most enjoyable town along the way, hands down, was the small town of Hanalei, a scenic valley town situated on a sweeping beach with pictureseque rivers and taro fields around the southeast side of the town. Hanalei has a unique characteristic that makes it instantly endearing, a charm that oozes out its buildings, into the street, and straight to your heart in a way that is hard to describe as anything but magical. One of the unique things about Hanalei is that it is connected to the rest of the island through a series of one-lane bridges, bridges where the etiquette is to allow an entire line of cars to pass before the other side gets to cross (as opposed to alternating crossings on each side, which is much more common).

Just outside of Hanalei, we drove through the towns of Wainha and Haena, the last specs of civilization on our journey, and arrived at Kee Beach or, “the beach at the end of the road,” the starting point for the Kalalau Trail. Once there, we parked the car, used the beach’s bathroom, and geared up for the long hike ahead. Our path for the day was to be a two mile hike from Kee Beach to Hanakapiai Valley, the first and easiest leg of the Kalalau Trail, followed by a second two mile journey from Hanakapiai Valley to Hanakapiai Falls. Dad, Drew, and I were committed to making the entire 8 mile round trip hike, while Mom was going to hike the first leg of the journey to the valley and see how she felt. The first portion of the trip was a fairly steep incline at first over relatively rocky terrain, hiking conditions that are unquestionably my favorite since you get to basically bound up the mountain leaping from boulder to boulder, which really gets the blood pumping. Andrew and I, like yesterdays hike, quickly distanced ourselves from the folks, which was just fine since they wanted to go slow and we wanted to go fast (it wasn’t like ditching, more like you go your pace, I’ll go mine sorta thing).

We met up at Hanakapiai Beach, which has this super scary sign just above it tallying up the number of visitors killed by the dangerous waves and currents that can be found at this beach. The tally’s current count is 84, which pretty effectively communicates the signs message: STAY OUT OF THE FREAKIN WATER!!! Anyway, down at the beach, Mom decided to turn around and head back to the car, assuring all of us that she would be fine and that continuing on without her would not be the end of the world. Parting ways, we headed off to find the falls and immediately encountered the sweet aromas of wild ginger growing along the path. The path wound up and through the valley along a river, passing through different types of flora including some rather spectacular patches of bamboo and rich patches of ferns. Eventually we came to a series of rather difficult river crossings requiring good sized leaps from rock to rock over rushing water. Fun stuff. I should note that along our way we encountered many people that had already reached the falls and described it as breathtaking, which encouraged us to continue on despite the difficulties of the trail.

Hanakapiai Falls truly is an amazing site; 800 feet of waterfall dropping off into a deep, cool pool set in a deep valley with incredibly green, lush sides. After a quick snack and drink, the three of us dove in the pool and swam under the falls, enjoying the brisk, cool water after our difficult hike. Having enjoyed the waterfall and its invigorating pool, we headed back for the beach 4 miles away. It was a tough hike back, but fun because of all the views and the terrain. During the return trip, I met two people from the Park Rapids (Minnesota) area, the part of the state our cabin is located in, and talked with them at great length about Hawaii and the hike we had just completed. Just another example of what a small world it can be sometimes.

Hike finished, we took a quick swim at Kee Beach to cool off and wash some of the trail grime away. From there, we headed back down the highway to a small burger joint, Char Ono Burger, and had a few hamburgers and brews before viewing the Kilauea Lighthouse and the view from Hanalei Overlook, a great view of the valley floor. Seeing as how it was right around 7 PM by this time, we decided to head for home and get some much needed rest. Tomorrow will feature Dad and Andrew’s first attempts at scuba diving and my first unassisted dive as a certified diver. Pretty exciting. Hopefully I’ll have some more good updates to add tomorrow! Aloha!

Kokee State Park and Waimea Canyon

Whoa baby what a day. Let’s start from the beginning…

Today began by waking up, scarfing some raison bran, and downing some delicious Hawaiian coffee. Kauai is known for its Kona coffee, a particularly delicious bean that my folks and I have been enjoying tremendously on our trip thus far. Anyway, coffee consumed, we set out for our day of high adventure in the Kauai countryside.

Our destination for the day was Kokee State Park located on the western side of the island just north of Waimea, the largest development on Kauai’s west side. The main attraction of the park is Waimea Canyon, a dramatic red-rock canyon commonly referred to as the Grand Canyon of the Pacific that offers significant eye-candy to those that are lucky enough to visit the area and excellent hiking trails. We began the day formally by stopping for a warm-up hike on the small Iliau nature loop, a short little walk to a good vista that we figured would be great for getting the blood pumping. After finishing our short “leg appetizer,” we headed north in search of bigger game and more exciting trails, planning to stop at the Kokee Museum to procure maps and water for the days hikes. We made it to the Museum just as it was opening, the rosey hour of 9:45 AM, talked with the creepy lady that worked at the place, got a few maps and postcards, and set off for the trails.

Yesterday I convinced everybody to try doing a trail known as the Awaawapuhi trail, which forms a loop with the Nualolo trail of approximately 10 miles and offers unmatched views of various valley’s of Kauai’s Na Pali region (it’s a pretty small island and you can see a looooong way on it). The Awaawapuhi trail, from start to finish, was stated as being approximately 3.25 miles from top to bottom covering a decent of 1600 feet, something that sounded reasonable to me and like something we all should be capable of doing without a great deal of difficulty. Ha.

We started out our hike at right around 10:15 AM and proceeded down the declining trail at a good clip. Andrew and myself immediately began to distance ourselves from the folks, but we waited up occasionally and tried not to get too far ahead. Eventually though, Dad gave us the go ahead to not check our pace and go as fast as we wanted to, turning us loose to our own devices and releasing us from our miserly rate of progress. The two of us, Andrew and I, picked up walking sticks and began to make good progress, counting off the mile markers in quick succession and encountering very little difficulty along the trail. Right around the 2.25-mile marker, while stopping to enjoy a good view, the two of us were quite surprised to have our Dad appear behind us slightly winded (slightly). He had been running down the trail to let us know that he and Mother were turning back, concerned that the trail was becoming too steep and that they would find it too difficult to get back to the top. We thought that sounded like a smart decision and arranged a time that we would try to be back at the top by with the understanding that we really didn’t know what time we would be back, so they would have to be patient and wait for us to complete our hike.

Andrew and I finished the rest of the descent without much difficulty and proceeded to the vistas down a separate path at the end. The views into the valley below were simply breathtaking; sheer cliffs dropping away to valley floors with meandering rivers, all shrouded with thick vegetation and a haziness in the air that reflected the fact we were 3200 feet above sea level. Pictures from this view can be seen on my Flickr page, and I would highly encourage everybody to the check them out. Simply awesome.

On the way back up, Andrew and I made a small detour to see Nualolo Stream, but the stream was dry (its been really hot and dry here lately), so we turned around and began the long ascent to the top. It was a really difficult ascent with several sections that were very steep and difficult, especially for two guys that don’t do much hiking on an everyday basis. But, though things looked grim at times, we made it to the top unscathed, if a little thirsty, and grabbed lunch at Kokee Lodge. It was a decent little place, though the waitress wouldn’t bring us any water because the place had lead in its water pipes. Ah just the thing to hit the spot after 6.5 miles of hiking, a few heavy metals and a pork sandwich!

After lunch, we checked out a few more views along Waimea Canyon road and headed back down the road to Waimea. In Waimea, we turned down a small side street and found a pre-western Aqueduct constructed by the Menehunes, the legendary “little people” of Kauai. The duct still carries water to taro fields and has a plaque showing it has been a national treasure since 1929. Definitely one of those cool things not everybody gets to see and really adds to the experience.

Back at the resort, I wandered down to the office in search of some wireless internet and found the resorts provided network. After sending out a few emails and catching up on current events, I headed back to the room, ate dinner, and watched a couple episodes of Lost with the folks. Tomorrow we will be hiking the Na Pali coast, reputedly Hawaii’s best hiking trails. Super pumped for that. That’s about all for the time being, better get some rest if I’m going to do any hiking tomorrow. Aloha ladies and gents!

First Day in Kauai

Today the fam and I flew to the garden isle of Kauai, the oldest of the Hawaiian Islands. Rising at a rosey six AM, we drove down to the airport, parked the car, hopped a shuttle to the airport, and caught our flight to Kauai. The flight was ridiculously short, something like 35 minutes, and, unlike our last flight, everything ran super smoothly (prompt takeoff, great flight attendants, and no unhappy little ones), making it a rather enjoyable trip. At the airport, we grabbed our car rental from Dollar Rent-a-car, a brand spankin new vanilla Dodge Magnum. Talk about a beast! This thing has got a hood that just doesn’t stop, making it rather difficult to drive, but its got lots of space to stow our gear, which is a rather good thing. Anyway, we navigated through the capital of Kauai, Lihue, and made our way to the resort town of Pihue, which (gasp!) is the location of our resort.

Once in Lihue, we attempted to check in to the resort, the Kiahuna Plantation Resort, but were told that the room would not be ready until right around 3:00 PM. It was 11:45 AM. So, we did what any sensible people would do: got Mexican food! After some sopping wet burritos from this little hole in the wall place up the road, we checked out the surfing scene and discovered that the entire southern side of the island is reef break, making it rather dangerous to surf for beginners (Andrew and Dad) and rusty intermediates (yours truly). Abandoning our impulses to grab boards and run for the surf like 7 year old boys for first base, we decided to occupy a small portion of beach near our resort and work on improving our complexions from their ghostly white state. During our time on the beach, I rented a foamy (foam surf board) and paddled around a bit in the break water, but things were pretty flat by the time I was out there and I only caught a few odd waves (all of which I stalled or crashed on). Additionally, our time in the sun managed to turn every one of us into crispy morsels for pitying eyes to feast upon. In particular, Andrew and Dad burned their backs rather spectacularly, though I did my very best to keep up with their attempts at a whole body blush.

After the beach, we checked into our room and cleaned up a bit for some late afternoon adventuring. The place we are staying is absolutely spectacular, with views down to the ocean, gorgeous landscaping, and a rich history as a former sugar plantation and noted garden. A bit farther down from our resort, we visited Spouting Horn Beach Park, a lava tube that, when struck by approaching waves, produces great geysers of water and a fantastic whooshing sounds. Around the park were various craft dealers selling their wares and a few dozen wild chickens. For those that don’t know, Kauai is the last Hawaiian island where you can still find wild chickens in great numbers since it is the only island that has remained free of the Mongoose, an introduced predator that feeds on ground nesting bird eggs. Anyway, on the way back, we stopped by the grocery store and picked up some supplies then grabbed dinner at Plantation Gardens, the spectacular restaurant located within our resort. The restaurant is built within Moir Gardens, an amazing cactus and orchid garden that is simply stunning to walk through. Dinner was amazing with fancy plates of fish and prime rib being served in delicious sauces to an ocean view. Ah Hawaii. Good day overall. Tomorrow we’re going to do a bit of hiking in Kokee State Park, I’ll be sure the let everybody know how it goes. As for now, aloha.

Well Alooooha!

Aloha from the Hawaiian Islands! For the next two weeks, my blogs will be coming from these isolated islands of intrigue and adventure and hopefully I can provide some interesting things to read about. Anyway, on with the show!

Backstory: Around a year ago, my Dad began talking to his sister Nancy (my aunt and commonly called Nan for short) about the possibility of trading houses for a period of time this summer. Nan expressed an interest in being in Minnesota for an extended period to visit with family and friends and see sights she hadn't seen in a long while. We all promptly threw our hands in the air, screamed "WOOPEE!", and began plotting ways to make this experiment in short term real estate swapping a reality. Sufffice to say it worked out, which means that at this very moment, Nan and her significant other Chuck are currently occupying our palace in Brooklyn Park while I digitally scribble my thoughts from a slightly more exotic locale.

Yesterday the fam (Dad, Mom, and Andrew) left Minneapolis at around 3:15 PM for the island of Oahu, approximately an eight hour plane flight on a Northwest DC-10. The flight was one of the more miserable flights I have had, settling right behind my flight to Michigan last fall (2 hour delay with a SCREAMING baby) and my return flight from Las Vegas when I was 16 (hot pot of coffee dumped on my head, then offered my choice of red or white wine as retribution). It took off late, had crabby flight attendants who didn't feed us, poor storage, and a crying baby (though not screaming, thank goodness). As advertised, the flight took right around eight hours to get to Oahu and touched down with one of the smoothest landings I can remember experiencing. We grabbed our bags and hopped into a taxi to get to Nancy's house, which turned into a rather exciting in unexpected adventure since the cab driver found a way to violate just about every traffic law ever enacted. Oh well, we survived.

After settling in a bit, we consulted my trusty Lonely Planet guide for a place to eat. For those that don't know, I'm something of a Lonely Planet junky, especially after my trip to Oz, and consider their advice gospel. The fam and I decided on a small Sichuan place called Maple Garden that sounded excellent and set off to navigate the mean streets of Honolulu in my aunt's fast and furious Honda Civic. I was elected driver since I was considered the calmest of the available candidates and I got us to our destination with only a few minor snafus. Dinner was good, came home, watched some Lost (greatest show EVER!), wrote in the journal, thought about Megs for a bit, and hit the hay. Not bad for a first day.

Today we went to breakfast at this little place called Anna Millers which had good pancakes and great coffee (Kona, mmm). After that, we went to the Pearl Harbor memorials, most notably the USS Arizona Memorial. This is the battleship that was sunk during the surprise attack on December 7th and still leaks oil to the surface. It's one of the more impressive war memorials I have seen and has great information all around. We took a ton of pictures at the ajoining submarine park, but skipped the actual tour of the sub ($10 each was just a little too steep to walk around a cramped compartment with a bunch of buttons we couldn't touch). All in all, Pearl Harbor was fairly impressive, but the boat ride out to the Arizona, the main attraction, was quite ironically the most disappointing part of the whole thing. It's a cool concept to be sure, but the fact remains that there just isn't that much to be seen out there and the glare from the water makes what is there difficult to see. The rest of the day we chilled out and made our plans for tomorrow's trip to Kauai and the ensuing four day excursion we will be making on that particular organic oasis. kauai should be a great time and I'm really stoked to do a bunch of the different hikes on the island.

Alright, that's enough for now. Aloha.

Crazy Two Weeks

Man, talk about your busy times. The past 2 weeks have been absolutely insane in Frankland (you know, the imaginary little world I seem to occupy continuously). Lets start at the beginning...

The biggest thing during this maelstrom of activity has undoubtedly been the preparation for Fusion Dance's Spring Performance. Extra rehersals, costume work, stage prep, and dress rehersals all lead to some busy dance teachers. Last night we had our first of two shows and, overall, everything went very very well. My mom, dad, grandma, and brother all came down to watch the show along with Kristen (Andrew's girlfriend) and Pete, Andrew and myself's roomate. Everybody said they were very impressed by the show and that all of the dances were enjoyable to watch, which is actually a fairly difficult thing to accomplish (aka: no clunker dances). Laura and I had our reunion duet performance which went quite well, no heart attacks, broken bones, or black eyes. Anyway, one performance done, one to go tonight, then my year long stint with Fusion will be over and along with it, my dance teaching career. It sure will be a sad day when I'm done teaching those kids, they all work so hard and are so enjoyable to work with.

Next on the list of big events has been our move from Berry Place to the house in Falcon Heights. Finally, we're done with that place and the creepy ladies that run it (think really intense with bug eyes, *shudder*). The new house is really nice and everybody needs to come visit us, its got enough space for everybody AND everybody's friends, so undoubtedly we will be having a few get togethers for some chips, soda, and some late night streaking. Pete has been working hard to wire the place up and has successfully installed internet into our office downstairs and Andrew's bedroom next door (the house, previously, was not wired for internet). It's so great to have an office where we can keep our computer crap seperate from the rest of our stuff, and it makes for great video game playin'!

Another big thing going on, though not as big (yet) as the first two things, is preparation for our trip to Hawaii! Thats right, Hawaii. The fam and I are leaving for Hawaii tomorrow afternoon, the 12th, until the 25th. We are going to two islands, Oahu and Kauai, of which I am definatly more excited to see Kauai. I'm going to try and keep this blog updated while I'm there, though probably not on a daily basis. I'll also try and keep my Flickr photo page updated so you can see some of the rad scenary of the Hawaiian Islands.

Other misc. stuff that has gone on has been trying to keep in touch with Megs (who recently updated her blog which should be checked out by all), getting my scuba diving liscence, and trying to get a full time job (two interviews and an online assesment). Anyway, gotta bunch of stuff to get done today, so this is the formal end to this long post. Ciao.

Diving, Moving

This is a post I actually meant to write yesterday, June 5th, but I got distracted. Imagine that; me, getting destracted, how unexpected. Haha.

Anyway, yesterday I received my Scuba diving certification after completing my open water dives. Now I can travel the world and spend lots of money looking at a bunch of coral and fish. Yeah, even when I try to disparage it, scuba diving still sounds pretty cool. Let me tell ya though, diving in a lake in this part of the world during this season is a COLD endeavor. Up until about 13 feet or so, its pretty nice. After that, it starts getting cold real quick.

Today is going to be moving day for Andrew and I. We are leaving Berry Place in favor of expanded grazing areas present at the new house. Sure will be nice to have my own room.

Alright, I'm putting this pointless blog out of its misery. Adios.

New house, dance, and traveling

Been a few days since my last entry, but things have been pretty busy around here. Me and the boys are getting set to move into our new place, a sweet house over in Falcon Heights. Best thing about it: we all get our own bedrooms! Finally! I think if I had to listen to Andrew and Kristen cackle at the top of their lungs at 1 AM one more time I would have taken them both down with throwing knives the following morning. The place also has an awesome yard, kitchen, and main rooms, but the bedrooms are definately the high point. Me, I'll be livin it up in the master bedroom (which has its own bathroom). Go ahead, feel the jealousy :).

The dance season has officially come to a close and Fusion's spring performance (aka: recital) is looming large. Overall it was a very successful year and our kids made some great improvements as dancers. It's always such a joy working with them, but the commute to Red Wing is such a killer that it makes the job hard. Last night, Kev, Andrew, and Rory came down to the studio and helped me teach which was awesome. It's always fun when they come down because it adds a novelty to the experience that is hard to match and because the guys are hilarious around the kids. Definate high point of the evening had to be watching Rory do sit-ups with Andrew; Rory, the military machine just pounding the reps out and screaming at Andrew to do the same. Hilarious.

Megs has been having a great time in Venezuela so far and everybody should check out her blog that she is keeping (there's a link to it in my links section). Additionally, it looks like Ta is having a great time in Denmark, and is doing a real good job documenting it so far (again, there's a link to his blog in my links section). The two travelers, off exploring new locales and cultures. Anyway, I miss you both deeply and hope you are having fantastic experiences abroad. Take care everybody.

Driving thoughts

Alright, I'm fully into missing Megan. It just kinda hit me on my way home from work tonight as I was screaming "Running On Empty" into my windshield. You see, Megs and Jackson are the two people that I really tell it all to, and Mr. Browne never has much to say back. I guess I just miss calling her on my way home from work and listening to her struggle to stay awake and talk to me, even though she's tired and probably hasn't slept more than 3 hours a night for the past 4 nights. I miss ending over 50% of my phone conversations with an enthusiastic "Buh Bye!!!" Most of all I miss coming home from a long night at the studio and snuggling up against her and smelling the intoxicating scents of her hair as they waft through my dreams, giving me a primal feeling of rightness and goodness, something that just can't be duplicated. Miss ya Megs.

On a different note, there can't be an artist that has written more honest, meaningful, and true songs than Jackson Browne. I mean, Running on Empty has got to be one of the most poetic songs I've ever heard, capturing perfectly the feelings of a young man in transition. I could go on about others, but whats the point. They're all amazing. Guess I'm writing about this cause listening to his music always makes me feel good in a sad kind of way, which is undoubtedly how I feel about Megs right now. I'm glad that she's out adventuring and I have every faith that she is having a fabulous time, but it's sad to be away from my best friend. It's sappy, I know, but it's the truth and there's no avoiding it.

Rain and stuff

How does my room get so messy so fast? It's crazy. I'm normally a clean guy, I keep things picked up and put away. Then all of a sudden, I wake up one morning and realize that my desk, both above and below it, is completely covered in junk. Furthermore, I have no place to put said junk, which makes it difficult to alleviate the situation. Argh, more cleanup I guess.

Been three days since I dropped Megs off at the airport and I already miss the little trouble maker. I've gotten 2 phone messages from her so far, and it seems that she made it to Meridia just fine and is making lots of new friends. Of course, this is exactly what I expect; I mean who wouldn't want to be friends with a cute, charming girl like Megs?

Been raining here non-stop over the past 3-4 days. I know I know, the flowers need it, its good for the crops, yadda yadda yadda. Bottom line: those greedy flowers don't need this much rain, and damnit, I need some sun. Makes for some nice sleeping though; the soft patter of descending moisture, sprinkling soft sustenance onto the earth and washing away worries with a wet wand. Alright, enough of this bumbling entry, I got stuff to do.

Bye bye baby!

This morning I dropped Megan off at the airport for her six week adventure in Venezuela. Six weeks without her sure will take some getting used to, considering she is my best friend and my closest confidant. Yeah, it may be a little rough not having her around, but I'll survive. Hopefully.

Anyway, before she left, Megs was pretty anxious about the whole thing, worried about coming back, being safe, liking her host family, and meeting friends. Seems to me that all of this is perfectly normal stuff to be worried about, especially the night before you leave. That's because, after you step through the terminal, the choices basically stop and you get into autopilot mode. Flight attendents tell you where to sit and when to get off the plane, hotel clerks tell you where to sleep, school directors and representatives tell you what classes to take at what time and in what rooms, etc. etc. But the night before...the night before is the time you question whether any of it will be worth it, if everything will be ok, if everyone will still love you when you get back...its endless. It's a maddening experience, but in many ways, it's a good experience. It isn't often that we thoroughly question what we are doing and why, what our motives are, and what all the possible outcomes could be. Undoubtedly, that seems like a good thing, questioning who and what you are and what you want or why you do what you do.

Maybe the real revelation in this though is that such questioning can't be done all the time because it is simply too stressful to put up with consistently. Kinda puts a big hole in the whole "live life to the fullest" and "question everything all the time" decrees that are so often uttered by individuals that haven't even got a clue what life is, much less a plan on how to fully enjoy it. Seems like living that way would get really stressful and confusing really fast. Is that why im always so stressed and confused? :) Anyway, at the end of all this, all I want to say is that this morning I had to drop off my lovely girl at the airport and that I'm going to miss hanging out with her for the next six weeks. Adios.

Excitement and Exhaustion: A weekend at a dance competition

Dance competitions. Alternatively referred to as 'Soul Stealers', 'Day Destroyers', 'Daylight Obliterators', and 'The Edge' (of human sanity). There are very few things crazier than dance competitions. An entire weekend of mothers obsessing about their spoiled, snobby daughters, dressing them up in various stripper outfits, and joyously celebrating when all this nonsense is rewarded with a piece of plastic made for eight sixty-thirds of a cent in some factory in Taiwan. Kinda hard to understand in some ways; completely natural in others. Amidst this debachery and buffoonery, there are moments of genuine artistry; moments of tenderness. Kinda makes it all worthwhile, those moments.

This weekend was the first time I had seen a number that actually revolted me, no small task considering some of the routines I've seen over the years. The number was the 2005 rendition of 'International Playboys,' Larkin's annual guys number that wows audiences and judges alike and usually leaves with a top award. This years number featured boys from the ages of 6 to 17 wearing Chippendale inspired bowties, white tuxedo jackets, and tight black pants. During the routine, all boys girated, stripped, and wriggled in and out of their coats provacatively, ending up in a large group of half naked boys posed for the audiences delight. The show alternatively drew cheers from the boys' parents and disgruntled wives glad to see some fine flexing and headshaking, muttering, and raised eyebrows from a much larger segment of the audience that found the routine to be simply too much. Call me old fashioned and prudish, but I find it hard to accept the sight of a 6 year old child performing what amounts to a strip-tease on stage to the drooling cheers of parents with no thought other than that plastic first place trophy on their mind. What's next? Is next years edition going to feature an interactive feature where the audience gets to place play money in these boys' g-strings? How about some naked mud wrestling, or a little bondage? Why is Michelle Larkin choreographing this garbage? What is her obsession with naked 8 & 9 year old boys? Hard to understand. Seems to me that an event designed to provide child performers a venue to show their skills should feature just that, children performing. Again, I'm all for artistry and pushing the envelope, but watching a 7 year old child strip provactively to a tight pair of pants is not artistry, it is perversion. Please parents, make it stop.

Brrrr...

Wow, today was COLD! And not in that kind of "Oh gee, isn't it a chilly spring day?" kind of way where you can still find pockets of sun that provide those tickles of warmth but in the "Someone is attempting to exterminate all life in Minnesota again" kind of way. We have wayyyyy to many of those extermination days for my taste. I always feel sorry for those flowers, trees, birds, and bees that have had the gutts to peak their little noses out only to be slammed down hard for their unparalleled courage. Seems kinda like a natural course of events though, those who are willing to take a chance are often punished for it. Flowers or humans, winter or society. Pick your party and your poison, the net results are the same.

On to cheerier things! Got to go to applebees and eat chicken fajita rollups. Is there anybody out there that does't love these little rolls of joy? If there are I have yet to meet them. Alright, Megs is kickin me off the lappy in a desperate play for some sleep, so this is the end of entry 1. Ciao.

Crazy Megan

Crazy Megan
Originally uploaded by *Dancin*Jim*Slade*.

This was a photo I took after Megs had tackled me to the ground and was refusing to let me up. Pretty funny. We soon started making weirdo faces at each other, with one of those faces being captured in this photo. I can't even describe what she looks like here, maybe a Road Warrior or somethin...Anyway, enjoy!