Thursday, March 12th, 2009
So, I have this little problem…I can’t stop eating the Wasabi Wow that I received as a gift in the mail today.
The other day, a very good friend of mine informed me that his beautiful wife bought me some Wasabi Wow from Trader Joe’s and that he was going to mail it out to me. I was a bit skeptical, because I am not used to such random acts of kindness. I thought it would be a while to receive the gift, so I left a few voice mails on my friend’s cell phone demanding the Wasabi Wow. Low and behold, today I retrieved a bag of the trail mix from the mailbox and have been eating it ever since.
Actually, as I am typing right now, I am planning my next scoop. Man, these guys were right when they said this stuff is addictive. Let me tell you what’s in it: Almonds, cranberries, redskin peanuts and wasabi peas. There are a bunch of lesser ingredients, but these are the main ones. I think it’s the wasabi peas that get ya.
If you eat sushi, you know how wasabi can clear out your sinuses. The first few handfuls of this trail mix made my nose tingle, but I am getting used to it now. I just wish we lived closer to a Trader Joe’s so I could get some more of this stuff. I bet no one would put me on a schedule of regular deliveries…would they?
Anyway, thank you Michele and Rob for the thoughtful gift. I love the Wasabi Wow!!!
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Sunday, February 22nd, 2009
I have to say, Sunday nights on MTV offer some of the best television out there.
Starting at 9PM, we have Rob Dyrdek’s Fantasy Factory, which is a really, really funny show. Then, we have the College Humor show, which is a different kind of funny, but funny nonetheless. After that, is Nitro Circus, which looks just awesome. The only problem there is that I haven’t been able to see that one yet…for some reason or another.
A while ago, I saw a preview for Nitro Circus on MTV where a guy was riding a dirtbike on top of water. It looked so cool. I looked all over the place and finally found a video of it on YouTube. I was going to post it here, but decided that I would post a different video of theirs instead. This one’s a lot better. You gotta watch this. It’s just a taste of what the show is about.
Nitro Circus Thrillbillies Castaic, CA
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Sunday, February 15th, 2009
One of our new favorite shows is Rob Dyrdek’s Fantasy Factory. It’s on sunday night at 9PM and is pretty damn awesome.
Now that Rob and Big are all over, Rob came out with a new show…one that mostly takes place in his huge skateboarding warehouse. In the first episode that I saw last week, Rob was driving one of those cool three wheeled motorcycles. I have seen something like it before, but the one I saw wasn’t exactly like the one he drives. I did a little searching and I think I found the one he has. I think it’s a Fifth Gear T-Rex. I found a video of it and figured I would share it with you.
Tell me how bad you want one of these things…
Update: I found a video of Rob Dyrdek’s T-Rex from Fantasy Factory.
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Tuesday, January 27th, 2009
Have you ever had one of those nights where everything was just way too fun? That’s what happened to me last night.
Around 8:30, I finished up dinner and walked back up to the kitchen to put the dishes in the dishwasher. I did a little tidying up and poured myself a nice glass of Brandy. Then, I took a small sip and walked up to my office for a little work. That is basically where the problems started.
I had a few more small sips of my drink and started getting into my usual 8:30 – 11:00 routine. A little work here and a little work there. I wasn’t doing anything all too serious, so I decided to turn some music on. Of course, I started listening to my new favorite band, “Days Of The New.” Seriously good music. Well, the next thing I knew, I had the music playing way too loudly and my drink was gone. The worst part about the whole thing is that I was halfway through a blog post. Let me just tell you this – it was magical.
I always worry about those types of posts. Good thing I never actually publish them because I mostly tell you what I really feel. Well, this time was a bit different. I finally started working on my story. Remember the one I told you about? It’s the one that’s going to knock your socks off. Yeah, I am trying to make this one worthy…worthy enough to be a chapter in my most unique book that my sister Lauren is going to put together for you.
I saved the post as a draft last night and just took a quick look at it. It’s not long; probably a few hundred words. I was quite surprised to see that it was better than I had hoped for. I would really like to post it, but I’m a little nervous about what people will think. It’s pretty odd at times. I’ll think about it. It isn’t that big of a deal because it’s just a prelude anyway. Maybe I’ll have my mother edit it before I do anything with it.
——
So Rob came over to the house tonight. I told him to remind me to get a picture of the two us us together so I could write about the visit, but he forgot. So, unfortunately all you ladies out there won’t get to see a picture of the two most handsome guys on the east coast. Maybe next time I’ll put the camera on the desk or something to remind me.
I think we had a really good visit. I gave Rob the house tour and then we talked business for a while. That was fun because I like seeing the fire in Rob’s eyes. He is a born entrepreneur…maybe even more than me. Let me remind you that it was Rob who was doing this stuff before me. He’s one of the people who came up with crazy ideas that actually made money long before I ever did anything. All I need to do this time is keep him on the straight and narrow and things should be fine.
After we talked business, we headed out to pick up some pizza and salads. That was cool, because I got to show him the new car and how it drove around these winter roads. I asked him if he saw the “driving in the snow” videos and he told me he hadn’t. So, I am linking to it right here. Michele, please pull him to the computer and have him click this link. Thank you.
The pizza was pretty good. The salads were pretty good. Typical stuff, but Rob liked the thin crust.
After we were done eating, I thought it would be a good idea to load up a big bag with about 42 empty beer bottles. I am giving them to Rob, so he can use them for his beer making. I am also letting him borrow the capper and some caps. I gave him 6 of my prize-winning beers too. We cracked one of the chocolate ones open and I have to tell you that they are tasting much better these days. Very full of body.
As Laura and I were saying good-bye to our dear friend, we made a vow that we wouldn’t let another year go by without seeing each other again. We have way too good of a time together to let these years pass by so fast like this. After all, we are only an hour and a half away.
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Thursday, December 11th, 2008
I just got off the phone with Rob. When I told him that we were setting up our Christmas tree, he sounded so excited. For some reason or another, Rob is adamant that we enjoy the season. You should have heard him huffing and puffing the other night after I told him we weren’t going to hang any Christmas lights outside. About five minutes after our conversation ended, he was heard stomping around on his roof hanging his own. Awww, buddy, if I were there I would have handed you a beer. That’s what friends are for.
By the way, I can write this stuff about Rob because I know it will never get back to him.
I think Rob has turned himself into a fine young man. Since he gave me a stern talking to a few nights ago, Laura and I have decided to jump into the season head first. Today we picked up a beautiful Christmas tree and Laura even talked me into hanging some lights outside. It’s like I am a stick in the mud that people need to persuade into doing these types of things.
I’m really not that bad. Once I get up and go, I am almost unstoppable. Perhaps unstoppable is too strong a word. Maybe I am more like, “Alright, let’s do it. Giddy up.”
Enough of this chit chat.
I would like to present to you, my loyal readers, our 2008 Christmas tree.
Christmas tree 2008
Christmas light
Now before you get all emotional (Rob), let me tell you that this tree was not set up without a few minor issues. Yes, it almost fell over twice. The first time, the tack that was holding the string popped out of the wall. The second time, I was leaning over and when I got up, the back on my head pulled the string, which pulled the tack out of the wall. Each time, the tree almost took a dipper, but was caught by one of us. Each time, I got mad.
I helped string the lights on the tree. Laura did everything else. I am sure she will enjoy that credit. Oh man, if I ever gave the impression that I helped with something that I didn’t, I would surely be met with a swift uppercut to the rib cage.
For some reason, I really get a kick out of writing about fictional scenes like that. I always tell her that I write this stuff. She must really wonder about me.
PS – the reason there are no ornaments towards the bottom of the tree is…yes, our feline friends tend to have a little problem with them.
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Thursday, December 4th, 2008
Man, It’s been a rough week.
I did a little complaining recently. I called a few people who are close to me and vented my frustration about the goings on of our world. They politely listened for a while, but both came to the same conclusion. They said, “Well Jay, things could be worse. You could be doing this or that, etc…” I guess that’s why I call people, so they can tell me to shut up and put things in perspective. I need that every once in a while.
I still think about life way too much.
Sometimes I just sit here with my head in my hands. I would just like the answer to one question: when did it all change?
In 2000, right after a graduated from Binghamton University for the second time, I had a plan. My plan was to release myself from all attachments with the real world and walk the Appalachian Trail. I was going to set my school loans on auto-pilot with my bank and fly as free as a bird. All I have ever really wanted was freedom; freedom from thought, freedom from today’s world, freedom from being dragged down by anything and everything.
I figured that walking the trail would really change my life. I was not interested in repeating the 9-5 job I sat through the year before while living in Atlanta. That was painful. All I was looking for was a way out…something different that wouldn’t trap me in the good ol’ American way of living day in and day out like the rest of the population.
Did I ever walk the Appalachian Trail? What do you think? Considering the fact that it takes about 10 months to complete and I never mentioned it before, I think not. I have actually walked a few miles on it here and there, but towards the end of each hike, I looked forward to driving back to the house, taking a nice shower and drinking a glass of wine. I don’t think I am exactly wired for growing a beard down to my waist and sleeping with the bears. The thought of a bear picking my tent up and eating it kind of freaks me out.
Let me tell you what bothers me about life as I know it – Worry.
Every day, I concern myself with each and every thing that probably concerns all of you. I think about money and security and politics and friends and life and everything else. I walk around in a fog, trying to make sense of every decision I make. It’s rare that I break out of that fog to have a clear thought. Maybe that’s why I like tennis so much, because I don’t think about anything else besides having fun. Although, I do like mowing the lawn for the same reason.
So, when did I change from the care free Jay to the constantly worrying Jay? I can tell you the exact day.
I have mentioned the fact that I moved to Atlanta a few times in the past. I lived there for a year, but the way I talk about it, it’s like I have a “Braves” tattoo on my right arm. Really, it was only a year, but it was a fun year.
I moved down when I was 24 years old. I packed up my 1989 Honda Accord with all of my belongings and hit the road. Basically, I just repacked the same items that I unpacked about a month ago after graduation.
I remember that drive down. I had one of those luggage containers strapped to the top of the car packed to the gills. Everything else I owned was spread out inside…on the back seat, on the front seat and in the trunk. There was no room for anything else.
On the highway, I remember the pleasure of wondering what my new life was going to be like. I didn’t know one person, the area or anything else about the entire state of Georgia. I usually do my best in these types of situations. As Rob always says, “You need to be like an Chameleon. Just change colors and fit right in.” Well, I did that and started off having a very good time.
Upon arrival at Morgan Falls Station, our awesome apartment complex, I was crazy excited. While I was waiting for the folks to finish up the apartment, I walked around a bit. I visited the 3 swimming pools, the work out centers, the tennis courts and the nature trails. It was nicer than anything I had expected. I recall wondering how $800 per month was paying for all this. Then, I remembered that things were a little different in the South. Up here, you get a tiny apartment above some old lady’s garage for $800 a month, and that’s a good deal. Down there, it’s like living at Club Med.
Needless to say, I was pleased. After I got settled in and had the phone hooked up, I called Rob. I was a non-stop talker. I told him about all the cool stuff that was there and about all the things we were going to do. I could tell that he was getting fidgety because he kept asking questions. We even got to the point of discussing what time it got dark in Atlanta. There is about a half hour difference between down there and up North. We used the scientific method of, “Is it dark now? What about now?”
After a few weeks of driving around a midnight (because there was so much traffic during the day) and getting to know people, I had really gotten used to it. I had a few friends and was playing tennis like it was nobody’s business. I didn’t have a job, so what else was there to do? I felt like I was living in a resort.
At the same time, my parents were planning their big move to Wilmington, NC. My sister Laurie had her first child and I guess my parents thought that watching water drip off their cars in the morning was a better idea than scraping ice off of them, like they did up North for all those years. The stars were aligned and they made the jump. They broke out of the New York shackles and started moving to North Carolina.
For the years that I attended Binghamton University and up to the time I moved to Atlanta, my parents took care of my big, beautiful Golden Retriever. I acquired this hairy beast a few years earlier, while I was attending Westchester Community College. It’s funny, because before getting a dog, I really gave no thought to what was going to happen to him for the rest of his life. I figured I would give him to my parents after I moved out and that would be that.
One day, while sitting on the floor (I had no furniture) of my Atlanta apartment, I received a phone call from my mother. “Jay, your father is driving a big truck down to the new house in Wilmington and he is bringing your dog with him.” she said. I replied, “Oh good, he will really like it in your new house.” “No Jay.” she said, “You are going to drive over and get him. He is your dog.”
Well, this came as sort of a surprise to me. Why in the world would someone want to hand over a perfectly good dog to someone as irresponsible as I was? As my mother put it, she couldn’t bear to see the dog laying on the kitchen floor looking up at her. His eyes broke her heart. She knew that he needed to run in the woods and swim in the river. He was a Golden, after all.
The day my father arrived at the new house in Wilmington, I was there to pick up the beast. I made the 7 hour drive and was quite excited to see my dog again.
I remember pulling in and seeing him tied to a small tree at the end of the driveway, waiting for me to give him a big hug. I leapt out of the car and ran over to him. I untied him and we instantly became entangled in a long embrace. That was my dog.
After a few hours of hanging out and going to the ocean, we left to head back to Atlanta. Again, I hadn’t given much thought as to what would happen next.
After my new roommate and I arrived back at the apartment, we did a little hanging out. Things were great. We went for a walk and I showed him all the stuff he was going to do for the next chapter of his life. It really was a grand ol’ time.
That night, a friend of mine called and asked if I wanted to go out to do something. I immediately said yes. Then, I looked down and saw my dog looking up at me. I paused and said something that I am not sure I have ever said to anyone in my life before that moment…”Wait, actually, I can’t.” I didn’t offer any reason for not being able to go out that night, but I definitely knew that something big in my life had shifted.
At that very moment, while standing there talking on the phone that night, I think I actually became responsible.
I know that sounds like the strangest thing you probably have ever read, but it’s true. I feel strange writing it. The reason I didn’t go out that night is because it was my dog’s first night in his new home and I didn’t feel right about leaving him there all alone.
All of a sudden, I started giving all types of thought to how my dog would feel if I did certain things. I knew I had to take him for a walk in the morning and that I had to be back after work to feed him and take him for another walk, but what really struck me was how I was unable to go visit friends in other cities and stay over their houses or apartments. I wasn’t ready to say no to trips to fun places, like the one that Rob made down to the Okefenokee Swamp in Southern Georgia. That one hurt because I really wanted to go there. I had to keep thinking about my dog and how I didn’t want to put him in a boarding kennel in a town I hardly even knew myself.
As it turned out, my consideration for everything and everyone snowballed from there. I began making sure more and more things were okay. I started saving my money and getting ready for the move back to New York to go to grad school. I stopped going out and doing stupid things that wouldn’t help me get to that goal. I never called in sick to work and I paid off that huge balance I had on my credit card. I don’t even want to talk about how much my soul has tightened up after I graduated from graduate school after the move back to New York. They basically train you how to become a herb.
I was most certainly becoming a worrier.
One might say, “Well Jay, aren’t those all good things?” I would agree, but I have to admit that once you grow up and become overly responsible, a little part of you disappears. How many times have you asked yourself, “Remember all those times we used to do that? Do you think we’ll ever do that again?” The answers are yes and probably not.
I was talking to Laura the other day about what I like to talk to my friends about. I told her my three top priorities are real estate, business and personal finance. Can you get any more boring than that? What ever happened to travel, drinking and where we are going to move to next?
At this point in my life, I feel that I am almost the opposite of what I wanted to be after graduate school. Sure, my little dream of walking the Trail may have been just a dream, but it was an indication of what I wanted to do and how I wanted to live my life.
At that time, I wanted two legal associations. I wanted one bank account and my student loan. That was it. Currently, I have more associations than I know what to do with. I understand that this is what happens when you buy a house and operate a business, but I must admit, at times it’s smothering.
Lately, I have been thinking about how I could get back to my ideal self, about how I could loosen up and at least become a shadow of that fun guy I think I used to be. I think I have a plan.
While I won’t precisely lay out my plan here, I will at least tell you that it has a lot to do with seasonal weather, long walks on the beach and campfires.
As you may have guessed, I gave Mickles a very good life and in return, he was a very good dog. I appreciate the fact that he spent the majority of his life with me. I would guess that he enjoyed his time in Atlanta the most. He had the field, the woods and the river. He couldn’t have asked for anything more.
I decided to post a few photos of my good friend here. I hope you enjoy them as much as I enjoyed taking them throughout the years.
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Saturday, November 29th, 2008
He should have never bought that gun.
You know, for the past few days, I have been agonizing over how I am going to make this story good. On the surface, it seems like a simple task, but the more I have been thinking about it, trying to make someone smile through writing is a challenging feat. I knew I had to start writing soon because I had already committed to it a few days ago. I’m not sure who wants to see this story on my blog more, you or me.
Recently, my Aunt, who is a writer, told me that she really gets a kick out of what I jot down here. This means an awful lot to me because she is in the writing business. Truthfully, I have absolutely no training at all when it comes to expressing myself through text and it’s a little intimidating knowing that someone with years of successful stories behind her is on the other side of the screen. I mean sure, I attended English class back in high school and college, but I’m not sure I retained anything. When the day finally came where I wanted to get something off my chest, I started to learn.
I asked her to give me feedback if she saw a glaring error. Actually, I would appreciate feedback if I make a small mistake, like using “it’s” instead of “its.” What would be great is if she let me behind the scenes regarding strategy. How do I start a story off? What should be the first line? Where should I begin the crescendo, like in music or a verbal story? These are all things that can make or break what I, or anyone else, writes.
As you may have noticed, some of my posts are better than others.
Sometimes, an entry comes out nicely when I least expect it, like my recent post, “Snowboarding Is Back.” I really just wanted to get something down quickly, but after I started getting into it, I got more and more motivated.
Sometimes entries don’t come out so nicely. I think I had high hopes for my, “The Rules Of Blogging” post, but I was a little perturbed when I sat down to write that, so it didn’t come out as planned. I actually had to delete an entire paragraph from that one because I thought it came across mildly abrasive.
When I think about what is going to make or break a post, like trying to figure out the answers to those questions I asked above, I think it’s entirely up to me. If I took lessons from someone, the story wouldn’t be entirely mine and it might seem “forced.” It depends on how I feel right at that point of what I am doing.
My Aunt tells me that she enjoys the details. I enjoy writing them. If I can express to someone how all those little green blades of grass feel when they are softly tickling my toes, I think that’s a success. Otherwise, we have a bland story, and no one wants that.
Just a few minutes ago, I was standing in the shower trying to raise my body temperature. As the water got hotter and hotter, I began thinking. I guess the water temperature got my brain moving. I had so many thoughts running through my head about just how I would explain the beginning of this post. So many thoughts were good, although I’m not sure I just spent the past fifteen minutes expressing any of them. I forget so easily. If I could figure out a way to lay my thoughts out faster, I might be on to something, until then, this is what we get.
So it begins…
When I graduated college, I had zero dollars. I was broke. I’m not sure I was in a position to do anything with my life other than to live at my parent’s house and find a job. At least I would have had someplace to sleep and I would be fed. Looking back, I think that might have been a good idea, but that really wouldn’t have put me where I am today. I took the challenging path, which is the one I usually end up taking.
In the past few years, I have had more conversations about how other people live their lives than I care to admit. “If I did it, then so should you,” is how I would usually end a conversation. I probably got that line of thinking from my father. It frustrates me when I see people not working to their potential. I’m not sure why, because seriously, it’s none of my business. It’s just that when I think back on all the adventures I have had through life, I guess I want others to share in those kinds of adventures too. If they are taking the easy way out, then they are missing many of the challenges and rewards that life has to offer. When you take the hard path and accomplish something, you tend to realize it once it’s done. That, my friends, is a good feeling.
A few months before graduation, my friend Rob and I decided to look for a place to live. We had been hearing many good things about Atlanta, Georgia for a while and decided to hop in the car for a trip down South. I actually had a professor who used to live in that city, so I would pick his brain during our student/teacher meetings. I am sure that time could have been better spent (at the rate I was going), but now I’m not so sure. What really struck me was his recollection of Lake Lanier, North of Atlanta. He said it was very active, very deep and very cool. I have always wanted to live near a lake, so hearing this only made me all the more excited for our trip.
Rob is a fun guy to travel with. He can be trusted behind the wheel and the conversation is good. We seem to be on the same page a lot, which makes for a good amount of agreement when it comes to really trying to analyzing something, such as a new place to live. If you had been sitting there, listening to us that first night in Atlanta, you would have heard a, sort of, agreement fight. We were so involved in what we were agreeing on, it may have been viewed as an argument. It’s funny to engage in and I’m sure it’s even more funny to watch.
Rob at age 14 (I think)
I remember a little something about our first drive South to the town nicknamed, “Hotlanta.” We were cruising down one of Virginia’s most scenic highways, Interstate 81. Rob was behind the wheel of his Honda CRX and I was in the passenger seat, trying to get some sleep with one eye open. I generally don’t trust anyone behind the wheel besides myself, but as I said above, Rob is okay, hence, only one eye being open.
The car was already a mess. For some reason, it is impossible to take a trip that lasts more than three hours without the entire car being filled with garbage. This is a phenomenon I will never understand.
I am not sure what began the exchange, but when I opened the other eye, I peered over to see Rob giving someone in a bright blue pickup truck next to us the one finger salute. I got all excited and told Rob to cut the crap. I said, “Rob man, these people aren’t like us. If they somehow get the cops down here to pull us over, they are going to tear our Yankee asses out of this car and no one will ever see us again.” Of course, Virginia is only a few miles past the Mason-Dixon Line and I was at a very ignorant point in my life. Rob tried to explain that the pickup truck had cut him off and the finger was warranted, but I wasn’t having any of it. All I wanted was to get to Atlanta in one piece so I could make a decision that would affect me for at least the next year of my life.
We drove for a while longer and eventually forgot about the whole exchange. The conversation was fluid, but we both agreed that it was time to pull over, get some gas and browse the service station aisles for its best and healthiest food. After all, we were already at the bottom of Virginia and had been driving for a good long time.
We found an exit that had a huge “Gas” sign next to the exit ramp. We pulled off the highway and made a right. We quickly made another right into the gas station.
While Rob was creeping along, trying to figure out the best place to fill up, something made me glance out the back window. A few moments after I did, I managed to force out an, “Uh oh.” Um, yeah, you guessed it, a bright blue pickup truck was pulling in right after us. Mind you, this was like an hour after we had seen our last bright blue pickup truck.
We stopped in front of the gas pump.
I saw Rob stiffen up when the pickup truck guy start walking towards the car. I had no idea what was about to take place, but I was ready to pounce. I was going to let this good ol’ boy know what it felt like to get his ass whooped by a young and limber red headed Yankee.
As he approached the car, the pickup truck dude finally said, “What are you doin’, showin’ me your age?” to which Rob replied, “I don’t know what you are talking about.” The guy responded, “Don’t act like it never happened. I saw you back there giving me the finger.” Rob came back with a swift and forceful, “I didn’t give you the finger, that would be road rage.”
Okay, after I realized the pickup truck guy wasn’t going to try to tear either of us out of the car, I let my guard down and loosened my grip on the fist of death. There would be no Southern altercation today. The gentleman, who actually ended up to be quite pleasant, walked away with another story to tell his friends and we filled up the tank, did our thing, and continued on, headed South.
We made it to Atlanta, and after a few days of driving around, we decided against moving there after graduation. We thought the culture was oriented too much around work. Everyone seemed to be working all the time. Work, work, work, work, work. That went against the grain of Jay and Rob, who honestly weren’t all that much into the whole work thing. We left and headed up to Nashville, Tennessee. Now, that’s a story for another time.
A few weeks later and after hanging out up North for a while, I made the call. I said, “Rob, let’s move down to Atlanta. What the heck. It would be something new and if we don’t like it, we won’t stay past the first year’s lease.” He agreed and we decided to move on down after I came back from college in Binghamton.
Rob helped me out a lot those first few months. As I already mentioned, I had no money. The complex we lived in had a pretty sweet deal…either take the first month’s rent for free, or spread a discount across all twelve months of the lease. Since I moved down about a month earlier than Rob, I said that we should take the first month free, and then we would split the remaining ones after I get a job.
Rob, Pete and Jay in Atlanta
The job didn’t happen until a few months into our little adventure. We took the first month’s rent for free and then Rob covered the next month. Right at the end of that month, I finally got a job and started paying Rob back. He had payed for more than just rent. He payed for the groceries, the utilities and everything else. You know, he didn’t even make a peep about it either, perhaps that’s why I never made a fuss about what happened next.
One day, Rob decided that it would be a good idea to buy a .22 caliber rifle. That’s right, a rifle. Now, this wasn’t a big, powerful gun, it was basically a step up from a BB gun, but still, it could do some damage. Rob walked into Wal-Mart with a wallet and walked out of Wal-Mart with a wallet and a gun. It seems like Georgia actually encourages this kind of stuff.
There was one thing I knew for sure; Rob should, in absolutely no way, own a gun. He has a little history with guns that I will tell you about right now, in numerical order.
1. One day while twirling my BB gun in the front yard, Rob shot the out neighbor’s house window.
2. One day, while shooting targets with my BB gun in the backyard, Rob missed the target and the BB ricochet about three times and hit me in the temple.
3. One day, while standing at the end of the driveway twirling my BB gun, Rob blew out the back window of our friend’s Mustang, while it was driving down the road.
The fact that Rob owned this gun made me nervous. Luckily, neither of us ever saw it again in Atlanta after the day he bought it. He must have put it in his closet for protection or something.
I will move ahead about a year to get this party started.
After our Atlanta experience, we decided to move back up North. I decided to stay at Craig’s house for a month or so, before moving back to Binghamton for grad school. Rob ended up back at his parents’ house for a short stay before renting a house down in town.
Craig owned about 40 acres of land up in Oneonta, NY. We would all visit about once a month to see what he was up to. When we arrived, Craig was usually straddling some earth moving machine in an effort to either create a road, a dirt bike track or a pond. Every time we were there, Craig was working on some project. Over the years, Craig had collected quite the array of machinery to assist him in his effort to transform his 40 acres into the land of his dreams.
Craig was quite dedicated and Craig was quite serious.
There was one particular visit I remember well. Both Rob and I were on slate for a weekend visit to “the farm.” Since I was already there, I don’t think it qualified as a “visit” for me. For Rob, the three hour drive definitely made him a visitor.
During the few weeks I lived at Craig’s, I witnessed him acquire a few neat little machines. These were basically farm type things and I really don’t know what some of them were used for. I know one spread around manure. It was a cool trailer type machine that, when towed, spread cow crap all over the fields for various reasons, such as fertilizing the grass and, well, getting rid of the manure.
Another piece of equipment Craig acquired while I was there was an old dump truck. It must have been from the 60s or 70s. It was old and rusty. This was his pride and joy.
I remember the day he rolled in the driveway with it. I took one look and said, “What the hell are you going to do with that? Does it run?” He replied, “Of course it runs. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to get a good running work truck like this around here for so cheap?” He looked so excited and I didn’t want to burst his bubble, so I just kind of shook my head and walked away.
Well, Craig decided it was worth talking about, so he chased me. He explained that this work truck was going to save him countless hours of time. Instead of moving dirt around with the machines, now he could fill up the dump body of the truck and haul the dirt where ever he wanted. His eyes were so bright when he told me about what this truck could do, he almost glowed. I hadn’t realized it, but he had been looking for a truck like this for some time. They were so scarce because none of the farmers in the area ever let them go. They were all using them for their own purposes.
Okay, if it was important to him, it was important to me. I wouldn’t make fun of it.
Rob wasn’t there for this conversation. Rob had no idea how much Craig loved that truck. Rob showed up and wanted to drink beer and ride dirt bikes, of which we were both only too happy to oblige.
We had a good time the night after Rob arrived. We ate and drank and told stories of all the crazy stuff we used to do. Craig showed us the shiny new rifle he recently bought, but hadn’t fired yet. Living on a farm in the middle of no where, I guess one needs a huge rifle that uses 3 1/2 bullets. I saw them and they could probably penetrate tank armor. Craig was pretty excited about this and said he was going to see how it shot the next day.
It just so happens that Rob decided to bring his gun too. Sure, it wasn’t nearly as powerful as Craig’s new bazooka, but it would be fine during target practice. I just had to be sure the stay the hell away from Rob when he was firing this thing. At the time, I thought it wasn’t a bad idea to bring that gun up to Craig’s, since it was on a hillside in Oneonta, NY. There was virtually no one for miles.
You know, come to think of it, at no point that night did Craig ever express to Rob the importance of his new work truck.
We woke up the next morning. As usual, Rob was up first, looking to get a jump on the day. He was always so damn chipper when he was up there, it was annoying. I wanted my beauty sleep, but I guess I was kind of excited too. After all, this was the day we were going to see two guns that had never been fired before, fired.
We took showers and walked downstairs, but couldn’t find Craig. We strolled around for a while, got some coffee and decided to sit on the couch and talk. The house was silent and kind of boring, but we didn’t really want to get into doing farm chores…we would leave those for Craig. We were there to have fun.
After a few minutes of some pretty lazy conversation, we were shaken by a huge “BA BOOOOM!!!” Our eyes shot wide open and poor Rob almost fell off the couch. I think my heart skipped a beat when I heard that enormously loud explosion. I looked at Rob and Rob looked at me. We both thought we were under attack. Rob started to get to his feet, when another “BA BOOOOM!!!” knocked him back on the couch. I felt so bad because he had no idea what the heck was going on. Neither of us did.
We got to our feet and raced to the back window, the one overlooking the mountainside. There, we saw Craig standing and smiling with a grin so wide it went from ear to ear. He was standing there with his huge new rifle in his hand and a new wake up call. He was staring straight at us and obviously knew he was going to scare the heck out of us. I’m not sure if he was so happy because he scared us or that he mutilated whatever it was that he just shot.
Hillside in Oneonta, NY
I just stood there staring out the window, frozen, when I saw Rob whiz past me and run down the back porch stairs. Oh no, he had his gun too. I guess I had been in a trance longer than I thought because Rob had actually run upstairs to grab his gun and bullets, got his sneakers on and made it outside before I even knew what was going on.
I quickly pulled my sneakers on and tightened up the laces nice and snug. I flew outside to meet Rob standing a good distance in back of Craig. Craig was setting up for another shot and we didn’t want to be anywhere near him when we heard the…”BA BOOOOM!!!” again. Yeah, that was it, he took another shot.
We were both standing there next to each other when Rob asked, “What in the world is that?” He was looking at Craig’s new truck. I said, “Oh, don’t ask. That’s Craig’s new work truck. Like he needs another hunk of junk around here.” Rob said, “Seriously.” and began walking down to Craig, who was filling his rifle up with another bullet.
I remember standing there when I saw Rob stop about half way between Craig and me. He put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a bunch of bullets. He took the clip out of his gun and filled it with the bullets he just pulled out of the pocket.
At that point, things started to move in slow motion…very slow motion.
When Craig woke up early in the morning, he walked down to the new work truck and placed a shooting target on the very rearmost, highest tip of the wooden boards used as sides to the dump body. The main dump body was steel, but there were two 2×10s on each side of the bed to hold more material. This target was placed neatly on the uppermost corner, far out of reach of the rest of the truck. It was almost invisible from where Rob was standing.
When Craig shot his gun, the bullet was so powerful and so fast, it simply sliced through the paper target and splintered the wood. The bullet easily exited the backside of the board. It was almost like there was no damage from the small missiles at all. Craig hit the target three times and the board was still clearly intact.
Craig had loaded his gun and Rob had loaded his gun.
No one ever told Rob that there was a target on the back of the truck.
Craig set up to take another shot when we both heard, “PAP PAP PAP PAP PAP.” It was Rob’s gun going off. I think Craig liked it because now Rob was getting into the mix. Rob was standing there like he was a hitman taking down a rival gang.
“BA BOOOOM!!!” again. Craig made another shot. “PAP PAP PAP PAP…” Rob kept firing. I think his clip held 20 bullets and he had emptied them all. “BA BOOOOM!!!” Craig had fired his last bullet. What a morning it was.
I stood there watching the whole thing from behind them both. What struck me as odd was the angle of Rob’s gun. It wasn’t lined up with the target and it kept moving from side to side. Craig’s, on the other hand, stayed straight and steady, like it was in the hands of a trained marksman.
I stood there in disbelief. My mouth parted slightly and hung open as I realized what had just happened. The corners of my mouth began to curl upward. I started walking toward both Rob and Craig when I overheard them congratulating themselves for the massive amount of firepower they had just displayed. I just kept on walking, one foot in front of the other.
When I reached them, the three of us started walking down to the truck together. We were quiet during this time and for some strange reason, no one said a word. The silence was deafening. All we heard was the crunching of the dried dirt beneath out feet.
We had about 100 feet to walk in total and about 50 feet were left. When we reached 20 feet, we all heard a “HISSSSSSSS.”
Craig’s head quickly snapped over to look at Rob when he belted out, “ROBERT, WHAT DID YOU DO???”
I felt a tear forming in the outside corner of my right eye. My upper lip began to tremble in anticipation of the discovery we were about to make. My feet started shifting in my shoes.
A few steps closer and the hiss got louder.
That’s when all three of us simultaneously saw bullet holes peppered out over the entire side of Craig’s new work truck…his pride and joy…his saviour of countless hours of hard labor.
I began making quiet screaming noises inside my tightly clamped mouth. My eyes were only half way open and my forehead has scrunched up more than it had ever been. At this point, tears were fully formed and rolling down my cheeks. I really tried to hold it in.
As we got closer, we found that the tire was punctured, the windshield was shattered, the side of the truck had about 10 bullet holes in it and the front fender was hit multiple times. There were no bullet holes anywhere near the target at the back of the truck.
I turned around and began walking back up the hill towards the house. Craig looked over at Rob and started yelling at him. I finally let a breath out and nearly broke down in the middle of the field. I looked back to find that they had popped the hood of the truck open. Rob had shot the fender, which sheltered the engine. Apparently, Rob’s bullets made their way through the distributor cap, the radiator and the valve covers. The truck was unusable.
I kept walking up the hill and heard the yelling get louder. It was like a cartoon. A few more quick glances and it felt like someone slipped peyote in my morning drink. I was full fledged balling at this point. All I could do was walk away and dream of brighter days ahead.
I love Rob. I love him to death. The gifts he has bestowed upon me are immeasurable. I am not sure he will ever know the joy he has brought to my life.
This, my friends, was the second funniest thing that has ever happened in my life and I enjoyed sharing it with you very much.
Thank you.
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Friday, November 28th, 2008
I made a very important self discovery today. It took all of my life, but I finally discovered that I am a critic.
It feels really great to at last figure out what my problem has been for all these years. At times, I have thought deeply about why things are, how things are, where things are, etc…It truly has been exhausting.
Now, as a newly discovered critic, I don’t feel nearly as terrible as I used to for being so critical about people, places and things. It’s the way I am wired…it’s uncontrollable. Come to find out, it’s in my DNA. I am sure there is someone in my family I get this from. Hmmm, anyone?
This afternoon, we drove to the Berkshires for another exciting Thanksgiving dinner at the Red Lion Inn. If you have been reading this blog since its inception, you’ll know that this has become a tradition for us, one that we really look forward to.
The Red Lion Inn offers some of the best charm in the Berkshires. It is centrally located in Stockbridge, MA and is probably the most popular inn the entire Berkshire region offers. Unfortunately, all its popularity may be its undoing, with us anyway.
We have always liked traveling up to the Berkshires for a variety of events…concerts at Tanglewood, shopping in Lee, strolling in Lenox, lunch in Stockbridge, well, you get the picture. We generally have a very good time. Although, there have been times that I have come back with a bit of cognitive dissonance. Rob knows what that is. We learned it way back in marketing class at WCC. It’s when someone feels uneasy about something, like there is a mild conflict in their mind. You can look up its definition here. For business majors, it applies to marketing, but it is generally applied to social psychology.
I’ll give you a short, but true, example of a time I experienced cognitive dissonance and then I will get into my story about tonight.
When Laura and I stayed over at the Red Lion Inn last Christmas, we enjoyed ourselves very much. We had fun doing so many things, but when it came time to eat dinner in the main dining room, there was something that bothered us. About half way through dinner, we heard a stampede of kids running up and down the main hallway above us for about 15 minutes. I will tell you that the Red Lion Inn is not a “solid” building, so we heard this commotion loud and clear. I thought the plaster on the ceiling was going to start crumbling.
Since we pay a good price for our time at the Inn, I decided to walk up to the front desk and inform the girl working it that there were some rowdy children upstairs ruining my night. She replied, “Um, yeah, I know. We have already had a few complaints about that. My manager is going to be in tomorrow morning and I am going to leave a note for her.” I was stunned and almost offered to take my shoe off and chase these kids out of the building, but I remained civil. My even temperament took over and I grudgingly went back to the table.
When I sat back down, I told Laura that I was a little fed up and that we should reconsider future visits to the Red Lion Inn.
Fast forward a few months.
In September, we went apple picking up at Windy Hill Farm in Great Barrington and ate lunch at the Red Lion Inn. We had a wonderful meal and decided to make reservations for Thanksgiving dinner. When we have a good time, we get a little caught up in the moment.
Fast forward to tonight.
We had a 4PM reservation for dinner. What always struck me as odd was, while making our reservations, this inn has insisted on telling me that men must wear coats to dinner. I never knew why they were telling me this, because I dress nicely each time I visit. I didn’t like the fact that someone was telling me how to dress, but I chalked it up to “informing the tourists.” There are people who would try to eat dinner in Bermuda shorts if you let them. As I mentioned earlier, this inn is situated in one of the Berkshire’s most popular areas, there are bound to be tons of hungry looky-lous, and there are.
We arrived today at 3:30PM. While waiting, we strolled around and kept ourselves busy. Laura went into the gift shop and I sat at a chess table. Here are some photos of that:
Red Lion Inn gift shop
Red Lion Inn chess table
As I was sitting at the chess table, I snapped a photo of a painting on the wall. I had no idea what it was of and I wasn’t even going to use it for this post. Upon later examination, I realized it may be the side lawn at Tanglewood. Here, check it out:
We usually sit where the flowers are in the painting.
After Laura was finished in the gift shop and I was done taking my photos, we walked in the main lobby of the inn. This is where I noticed something strange. I saw a guy walking into the main dining room wearing a cheesy, wrinkled sweater and sneakers. Now, trust me, I am not being judgemental, I am using this as ammo to make a point later on.
A few more minutes of waiting and we heard the golden word, “G.” Ok, now we were in business. The hostess walked us over to a table for two towards the front of the dining room. I would have preferred the rear because it is quieter back there, but the front was ok, I suppose.
We sat down next to a few larger tables to the side of us and another table for two directly behind me. This is where it gets interesting…
At the moment of my butt hitting the chair, I heard this loud, female, raspy, drunken voice scolding her (soon I would find out) boyfriend for being so lousy over the 20 year span of their relationship. It hit me like a ton of bricks. I could feel my face getting red, like it did when the kids were running around upstairs.
I took a breath and figured that I should keep my mouth shut because they would be done in a few minutes and they would leave. After they left, we could enjoy the rest of the night with the rest of the well behaved guests.
Apparently not.
For the entire duration of our meal, we were forced to listen to this woman, very loudly scold her boyfriend that he was no good to her and no good to his mother. She claimed that he was going to leave her and that he wanted to kill his mother. I am not joking. This woman was plastered. She was slurring her words, but not drunk enough to keep ordering more drinks. She also found her way outside for a smoke every 10 minutes fairly easily.
Each time she went outside to smoke, she would come back into the dining room. She would smile at everyone and make small talk with people here and there. The minute she sat down, “You rotten, good for nothing, bast….”
Remember when I mentioned that we would wait until these people left to enjoy our dinner? Nope, apparently, these were the type of folks who sit and eat all night. If at a bar, these are the type of folks that you have to physically ask to leave when the bar is closing…then only to find out they are hiding in the bathroom. They were there before us and they remained after we left.
I know all this because we grew to know them intimately. All the folks at the surrounding tables knew them as well because they were very close too. I had such temptation to get up and grab the drunk lady by the throat, but I kept coming to the same conclusion that if I approached this woman, I would only get excited and mad and have my night ruined, I was confident that she would just enjoy it too much and she would make a very loud scene. In addition, in no way was this supposed to be my problem. Which brings me to the point of this post…
Where in the world was the uptight, rule enforcing waitstaff and hostess? I paid for this evening and nothing was done, in the least, about this Jerry Springer trailer park scene. It lasted an hour and all we got were a few uncomfortable smiles from the employees of the Red Lion Inn. In my opinion, this was unacceptable garbage. Everyone heard it and everyone knew what was going on. The problem was that we were too deep into our meals to change tables. Even as we were eating, a guy wearing a button down, lumberjack shirt walked by. You know the type of shirt…big red and black squares. So much for this “dress code.” I guess I should have dressed more comfortably.
I did a little search for upscale inns in the area after we got back to the house and found that our dinner at the Red Lion Inn was actually more expensive than comparable dinners at these other inns. I don’t want to sound like I am whining here, but I just figured that maybe, just perhaps I could have a nice classy night out with my lady without my blood pressure raising through the roof. It is, after all, the service and “experience” we are paying for.
I get excited about these nights out and I hate being let down.
After reading some reviews on Zagat, I have come to the conclusion that the Red Lion Inn is simply too popular with the tourists. It appears that this is an “anything goes” restaurant, as was evidenced by the gentleman walking in wearing sneakers and the scene that went on behind us. Oh yeah, the kids running up and down the hall way during our previous visit was a sure treat as well. Each time, nothing was done to even look like an attempt was being made to stop what was going on or to comfort the people who were trying to enjoy their holiday at the Red Lion Inn. I know this because, believe me, I watched and waited.
Unfortunately, I think we have been burnt by the Red Lion Inn for the last time. We can’t do it anymore. There are far too many restaurants and inns in the Northeast to have to put up with this kind of place. We decided that if we were in the area and wanted to stop for lunch, maybe we would give it a shot, but certainly not for dinner.
On a lighter note, hats off to the chef tonight. The food was excellent. As a matter of fact, if the staff of this place would get some guts and start throwing some of these people out on their ears, we wouldn’t have a problem at all. The waitstaff and other employees are always very nice and easy to get along with. It’s the other guests that are the problem. Problems are bound to arise, it’s what is done about them that matters.
Finally, here are a few shots of some tables and, of course, my Guinness.
Dining tables at Red Lion Inn
Pint of Guinness
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Monday, November 24th, 2008
I would like to make a very important announcement. This is really very important, so hold on to your hats and read this carefully.
I have decided to begin working on “The Funniest Thing That Happened in my Life – #2.”
For the uninitiated, please read these three posts to initiate yourselves…
The Funniest Thing That Happened in my Life – #1
The Funniest Thing That Happened in my Life – #4
The Funniest Thing That Happened in my Life – #5
Fortunately, this next one isn’t nearly as gross as #1 and #4, but unfortunately for Rob, he is involved again. And yes, he is the center of the whole thing…again.
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Tuesday, November 18th, 2008
As you may already know, my personality type parallels that of the great adventurists of the world…Richard Branson, the Wright brothers, Ranulph Fiennes, etc… Yes, that’s right, my story will most likely have its own Wikipedia page someday. I don’t see how it couldn’t. With all the exciting tales I endure throughout my days (usually within an acre of land), I am sure I will go down in history as one of the greats.
Okay, let’s come back to reality. I’m just a guy who likes to write from time to time.
I had a grand thought the other day. I was walking and thinking about how I hate Winter. I don’t really have a problem with Spring, Summer and Autumn, but Winter is hard for me.
One problem I have with Winter is with the lack of daylight. That bugs me. Last week, I had to rush back from playing tennis so we could go for a walk up the road before it got dark outside. It was only 3:15 in the afternoon. That’s annoying. I always hated the dark. Not because I am scared of it (which I’m not), but because people go inside and hide when it gets dark. It’s like the show is over and everyone goes home. That’s depressing. Also, the dark stops me from fiddling around outside. It forces me to go in and wind down for the next 7 hours before I go to sleep. I have always hated going to sleep. Who ever thought that I would be as old as I am and still fight about going to sleep.
Another problem I have with Winter is the cold. Things don’t grow in the cold. I can’t go to the store and dream about what I am going to plant next when it’s cold. I have no visions in my mind. It gets a little boring. Also, as you may have noticed, there are fewer pictures to take because I am doing less and things don’t change that much. I am sure I can take pictures of a dying lawn, but I am sure you would get sick of that.
I remember when I used to live back in my home town in the house I grew up in. We lived on a great road that had a nice amount of walkers that would use it for…well, walking. I like to chat it up with people, so I would spend a lot of time sitting at the end of my sidewalk, waiting for people to walk by. Since this would happen from May through October, I accomplished a fair amount socializing. I’m not sure if the walkers appreciated it, but I sure did.
I always remember the times when I would go out to the road, look up and down, and realize the season was over. There was no one walking and there would be no more walkers until the next season. That thought would always be felt in my stomach.
One more depressing short story and then I will get to the point, I promise.
As some of my readers will agree, the lake in my home town was the bomb-diggity when we were growing up. I have no idea if people still use the lake for swimming today, but when I was a kid, it sure was the place to be. From June 27 through September 3, I would pretty much somehow end up at that lake to swim…every day. My friends and I walked, rode skateboards, rode bicycles…whatever, to get down there and hang out.
I usually had the best times right in the middle of July. Everyone in the area had somewhat committed to the fact that the beach was where it’s at. I remember my friend Brian’s mom showing up in her station wagon full of people, Russell’s mom showing up in her maroon Pontiac and some people even walking. You know, those lucky people who lived close by.
We would all do our thing and swim all day. I remember swimming back from the raft one day and standing up in the shallow water. My lungs were starting to hurt because I was so water logged. I recall looking up past the sand at the big tree that stood near the clubhouse and watching the wind blow the leaves. Everything was kind of hazy because my eyes were so used to being open under the water. This is the era of zinc oxide sunscreen and turtle hunting (we would let them go). This was also the era of Ocean Pacific t-shirts and wondering what the people over at the town beach were doing. Man, I would probably be happy if I could just live those days over and over again for the rest of my life. It really didn’t get any better than that. But, things just refuse to stay the same.
One day, late in the season, I decided to go down to the beach. I knew there wouldn’t be many people there because the sky was a bit cloudy, but I gave it a shot anyway. When I arrived, the place was empty. I was completely alone. I decided to walk past the fence and take a stroll to the end of the dock. I thought I would just hang out until someone showed up. All I really needed was for a few people to come by and we would get something going. Well, no one ever came.
I decided to take my shoes off and hang my feet in the water. I untied my sneakers and finally got my socks off. I walked over to sit at the edge of the dock, but when I looked at the water, I was horrified at what I saw. Little specks of “lake” were floating around beneath me. It was turning. That was the sure sign that the season was over. Once the lake turned, it was time to go home to return only when it was warm again the next year. For anyone who remembers those days, you’ll also remember that school was about to start soon as well. That always gave me a sick feeling.
At that time in my life, I was too young to realize that Winter was just a short hop, skip and a jump away. Now, I understand that the time between the end of the Summer and the beginning of Winter is short…very short. Time seems to really fly by these days.
These are just a few of the memories that have moulded me into the person I am today. I have a strong sense of my past and I truly miss things. I guess when it comes to weather, I prefer to play. I really, really like to play. Laura always looks at me like I am crazy for the words that come out of my mouth, but when I think back and daydream about all my best friends and me riding our bikes as fast as we could down the Road to get some pizza at the corner, I get a little sad.
Maybe that’s why I never liked the idea of high school reunions. Seeing everyone so different would probably break my heart. It’s a reminder of how much we’ve changed. Worst of all, it’s a reminder that much of my past is never going to happen again.
Okay, time to get back on track. I just love it when I look up after a half-hour and realize I wrote absolutely nothing I had planned on.
Back to what I was thinking during my walk the other day. I decided it was time to come up with a plan that would take me away from the Winter blues I experience every year. I had to think of what types of activities I like to do during the Winter. Well, writing on this blog certainly is one of them, but unfortunately, that doesn’t get me out of the house. Playing indoor tennis is most definitely going to help, but what else have I enjoyed in my past that I really got a kick out of? Ahhh, snowboarding.
Back when I was living in Binghamton, my friend and I decided to buy snowboards and all the equipment that came with them. We bought the boards, bindings and boots. I also got all the apparel that made my days on the mountainside comfortable. I always said that if I stayed warm while riding on a snowmobile at midnight in mid January, that was good enough to stay warm while snowboarding. Luckily, I still have everything I started with.
When I first started snowboarding back in 1997, I was hooked. You couldn’t stop me. Since I was in college, I was flat broke, but somehow I always had money for a lift ticket. That first year, I went to Catamount, Hunter (about 10 times), Scotch Valley, Jiminy Peak, Greek Peak and some others I am sure I am forgetting. I remember that I would be able to snowboard for 9 hours straight. The next season, we went to all those mountains again as well as a few others, like Stratton, up in Vermont. It was awesome.
Rob and me at Stratton Mountain in Vermont
After I graduated college and moved to Atlanta, there was no more snowboarding for a few years. I guess my body lost its snowboard-ism, because the next time I went snowboarding up at Bristol Mountain, near the finger lakes of New york, I went with an 18 year old kid. He was on fire and I only made it down the mountain twice. I felt like a smoker of 40 years. It’s amazing how fast the body can fall apart.
I called a few friends over the past couple of days. One of them is a skier who is willing to learn how to snowboard. The other is Rob. Rob told me that he will hit the mountain with me. I am sure that it won’t be too often, so it shouldn’t conflict with his busy schedule.
I think this will make for a more exciting Winter. At the very least, it will make some some really neat pictures of various mountain tops and ski trails. I bet you can’t wait for that.
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