Beer, Birthday, Geocaching, Return

I'm about to go out to the car to pack out all the laundry, the pillow cases on the pillows, and anything else that smells like ass, and drag it down to the basement. Before I do I just thought I'd say hi, because some of you have hit the journal 10 times today looking for an update. Damn, you are so cute and loyal! My readership averaged 10 hits a day during my time off, and today it is already up to 48 hits, not including my own two. So thanks for checking in to see if we are back.

In short, it was a great time. Team Screamapillar did four Geocache trips, one of which I skipped to spend time with Michelle doing Girl Things like grocery shopping and showering at the hot showers near the Blackwoods Camp grounds. All four geocaches were successful. One was hard, basically because it was 95 degrees and unhealthy air and uphill the whole way. We earned that one.

Aaron turned 28 on Saturday and we had a 1/4 keg with a great acquisition story behind it, which I will regale you with later (is it regale? is that how to spell that shit?).

We met many wicked cool dogs... Peanut, Sophie and Harvey at the camp, Zeus at the swimmin' hole.

Gonzo, A&M's dog got out and killed one of Farmer Matt's chickens... the blame squarely on all our shoulders for lots of reasons but Geoff bore the punishment for thinking it'd be a good idea and lots of fun to walk Gonz up there to visit the chickens. Never trust the five year old to watch the chicken chasing hound. Many lessons learned.

Farmer Matt was forgiving. Good Karma all around. I still feel sad though. But I digress.

farmer matt raises the foamy fifth cup of beer from the Sam Adams fountain,
the night before the "chicken incident"....

We drank lots of beer, roasted weenies, grilled chicken and sausage, met hippie farm kids who were all really cool, sat in front of a fire which raged wonderfully while a thunderstorm raged behind us about a mile away. It was amazing. Stars on one side of the sky, lightning on the other.

All told -- great trip. Very tired. More later. Glad to be home. I have a meeting tomorrow with the college professor, and am working for catering man on Wednesday. And, we have to get this ceiling project done between now and a week from today. So all told, life should be busy the next couple days. But I'll be sure to fill you in on good details, and show you lots of pictures. In the meantime, here's one for ya. Aaron built an outhouse behind the cabin, way back... worked his literal, metaphorical and proverbial asses ALL off totally to get it done. He finished right before we got there.

Here's Aaron and Michelle raising their PBRs in a can at the ribbon cutting ceremony outside the door to the shithouse. Notice Geoff in the middle there. He is getting ready to drop trou and break the thing in. Waste ye no time Geoff! Get the party started! Great job Aaron. We enjoyed stinking up your poophouse.

Alright. Gotta get to work, feed family. More later.

It's all about Not Giving Up.

I slept late this morning. It felt great. My legs hurt, I was exhausted... but I woke refreshed. I had a phone meeting with the Theatre professor that I'm working with this summer, that took about an hour... and afterward Doug says, "I figured out what we did wrong yesterday at Parker River. There are blah blah blah..." coordinates styles, decimal points vs. colons... in short, he knows what to do now."

So we went back to the scene of our first geocache, armed with better knowledge and support email from the cache owner who encouraged us that we shouldn't have been in the marsh at all...

And we found it. Hot Damn.

We also got our very first travel bug, which is a trinket that has a trackable number, and you take it out of a cache and put it into another one. I have a feeling it is going to Maine with us. There are 3 Geocaches on MDI, and so far it looks as if all these tags are from Massachusetts, so let's travel this bug to another zone!

Nothing more really to tell. Doug's chefin' up some supper. It's getting on to 7pm. It is hot as a bahstid (Boston Accent, 'bastard') round heah, and I sure could use a beer. Mmmmmmmm. Beeeeeer.

Happy hour looms ahead...

Tonight a bunch of people in my office are going out for drinks, aka happy hour. Happy hour. I want to spend an hour drinking in a bar with people I see all day. Uh, okay. My boss is the organizer, the cheer leader, the cowboy rounding us all up to go. She's gung ho about it too, so I feel more than obliged. We used to have a co-worker who refused to do anything with us. When we went to lunch, nah... don't wanna. We all went out as a group one night, nah... don't wanna. And that kind of bummed my boss out. She likes to do stuff outside the office with us, and sometimes pays... usually when we've kicked ass on a project. If I were a betting man I'd say I'll get a beer out of her tonight... because I did kick ass on two projects. So we're all going out. It's also for people leaving, which hasn't happened much in the past several months, so it's a good reason.

The sick thing is, waiting for me at home when I get there is a brand new washing machine, and I am eager to get home and check out its washing abilities. I am officially old.

My office is freezing today. The air conditioning in this building is touchy. Either you've got Africa Hot or Cape Horn/Tierra del Fuego Freezing. Today, it is the latter. I wore a sundress today, black with little purple flowers. And I got in here to discover that the only item of clothing I had in the office is an old old old flannel shirt, which is red and black plaid.

So I look like a complete mental defective today. I wish I had the digicam so I could take a picture of me, stylin in my sundress and flannel...Kind of Carrot Top style.

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Speaking of Carrot Top, have you checked him out lately in those TV commercials for that stupid collect calling thing he's shilling for? Did he have facial reconstructive surgery or is he wearing the most horrible make up in the universe??? I'm horribly disturbed by him. I used to think he was clever and funny and entertaining but I am thinking he's falling into bad ways of cosmetic surgery, and lies, and drug abuse. Like Michael Jackson. Or Liz Taylor. His level of celebrity is that high. I give you the following as evidence:

Folks, This Disturbs Me To No End.

Anyway, it is just about beer time, I have 10 minutes to finish this up. I have more Gayle pictures, heh heh, and other more substantial things to talk about, but right now, just think about poor Carrot Top, his career, the makeup, the surgeries, and the shame of it all.

And I will leave you with this:

While surfing for the cute little graphic for the top left spot, I came across this. The guy on the right looks like Iggy Pop, the guy on the left looks sorta like someone I know who I personally doubt would be begging for beer money. They both look hard up for a room, wink wink nudge nudge say no MORE!

Iwondered if this wasn't a posed picture, but the rest of the photo is kind of super scummy with a bum sleeping on the bench to the far right and lots of trash under their feet, and they do look like official bums. I feel bad because they're advertising for beer money, when hard oldman liquor gets your shiznit messed up faster. Somoene should tell them that. But the piece de resistance is the bottom of their cardboard sign...

They added "PLEASE!" Which if you read it one way is them being polite, in another them being desperate. But at least they said please. I've been accosted by bums who swear at me, call me names, throw stuff at me because I don't give them any money. I even have a great story where a cab driver rescued my ass from a bum at an ATM machine on Mass Ave in Boston about 10 years ago this month. (oh, my. That long ago???), which I will regale you with later. But these guys said please, so if I'd'a seen'em, I'd'a given'em some money.