thanksgiving, succinctly

never really knowing much of a blessing growing up, i picked up two along the way. succinct though they were, they've stuck with me since the first time i went to philmont at the age of 14, or since my last meal at ye olde delta shelter. the only thing that these two leave out is the ever-present love in all of our lives, be it from family, friends, or that special someone we've been lucky enough to find.

first, philmont.

for food, for raiment, for life, for opportunity, for friendship and fellowship, we thank thee, O Lord. Amen.

i think that one is still in my brain because i used to say it to myself before every meal that i didn't eat at the delt house in college. that one didn't lend itself very well to solo recitation. it needs the voices of about 50 guys

Creator, we bow our heads,
grateful for life and this daily bread.
Help us contribute to all human good,
out of our Delta BROTHERHOOD.

can you guess which word we stressed in a louder, whiter version of barry white? happy thanksgiving to you and yours. may your blessings be numerous and your woes be few!

east coast shreddin'

this is what we have to look forward to when it ain't quite snowing, but the weather's cold enough to keep the snow around.



soon, i will regale you with tales of injuries and triumphs on the man-made snow-covered slopes of extreme southern pennsylvania. joy!

under the influence

how appropriate a title for a snowsports movie! she and i have determined that the rough around the edges trinity of rock climbing, snowboarding, and surfing seem to have a pretty similar following. how so? watch any video highlighting these sports.

she and i went to a viewing of an backcountry skiing movie called under the influence on thursday. people watching galore. there was a distinct dichotomy among the ski bunnies and board bums. with the guys, it was easier to pick out the differences because womenfolk tend to dress better in d.c. regardless. skiers were preppier, on average. aside from a top-dollar jacket/fleece, the snowboarders were decidedly more like surfers and climbers. facial hair, unkempt hair, dirty jeans, beanies, ball caps. she commented to me, "that girl doesn't look like she's ever been on a mountain," as one tottered by in high heels and a cashmere sweater. "skier," i replied. ah ha!

"i've met snowboarders who used to be skiers, but never a skier who used to be a snowboarder," the emcee opens with. chuckles all around. then the video begins.

oddly, the movie focused on extreme skiers. i find the adjective extreme to be rather cliche these days, with everything from backyard wrestling to ironing getting that tag. i don't consider any of the trinity to be extreme, unless the participant makes it so. going to the top of 12,000 ft. peaks to ski down faces that are about 80 degrees vertical with a strong risk of causing an avalanche? yeah, i'd say that's extreme. that said, these guys were more like the trinity than the preppier ski lodge crew splitting the room. dreadlocks, loud colors, working only enough to support their skiing/snowboarding/climbing/surfing addiction...

under the influence indeed! if you're a disciple of one of the trinity, check out a video from one of the other three. myself, i've seen a few of each. climbing videos clearly resonate most with me because it's my passion. snowboarding would quickly become an obsession if i lived with real mountains and real snow. surfing, same deal if i were two blocks from the beach. what do you think?

poetry corner

my kids had to recite a poem in front of the class and analyze it today. i know that they had help thinking about it, but i'm still very pleased with some of their interpretations about autumn and it's symbology in this poem. ("symbology? i believe the word you were looking for is symbolism..."

happy fall, y'all.

Autumn Season by Flora Elliot
I like the autumn season
When Thanksgiving Day draws near
With air so crisp and biting
And sky so blue and clear.

Wild geese are winging southward
In a slow and graceful vee;
The squirrel at last is resting
In his hollow in the tree.

I always feel Thanksgiving
Is the turning of the key;
One door is shut behind us,
But another opens free.

what does the last stanza mean to you? let's see if you're smarter than a third grader...

here we go again!

there's nothing like the excitement of a roomful of eleven and under students, already at free rein to talk amongst themselves. what my normal florida, excited-at-the-prosepect-of-snow reaction should be turns to, "there goes the rest of the day!"

of course, even with flurries, it's no different than teaching when the weather changed during the school day in florida. the same lecture applies.

"y'all have seen rain/hail/thunderstorms/snow/flying pigs/raining frogs before. let's all take a look out the window for a minute, then we're done being excited about it until school's out. capiche?"

i had to conceal my excitement over the weather change. of course, it's a lot easier when the flurries aren't sticking. now, when we get some measurable snow, i just might pee my pants this year because i've got a snowboard, waxed up and ready to go.

a million little pieces

way back when, i read this book. i wasn't in the best place in my life. lately, it's come up repeatedly in discussions, so i feel compelled to share my thoughts on it from way back when.

In case you've been living under a rock, you've probably heard about James Frey's "memoir" A Million Little Pieces. Curiosity finally got the best of me, and I borrowed it. It was slow going at first because his writing style was hard to get used to. The further I got, the faster I read. Partly because I didn't have to stop and think about who was saying what, partly because it became more intriguing. I found myself laughing out loud at his interactions with his fellow patients and the staff. The descriptions in the book are haunting and vivid. His fellow patients are real, and come from a broad spectrum of society. Mob boss. Boxer. Steel worker. Judge. It holds to some of the stuff I taught. Addiction doesn't care if you're black, white, rich, poor, man, woman, child. You abuse, you're done. Simple as that.
With the brouhaha over the fictive parts of the memoir, I found myself wondering at points in the book what was made up. There were certainly parts of the book that I am convinced were complete and total bullshit, but then again, I've not been in his shoes before. Since I can't relate to the anger that addicts felt upon finding out about the embellishments or bold-faced lying, I can't help but wonder if there would've been the same outcry or hope if it was written by someone else as a work of fiction.
Never having dealt with substance abuse myself, I can't relate to those aspects of the book. The struggle the overwhelming need the craving the Fury...Sorry, I guess Frey's style got into my head. Hell, I've never taken anything harder than booze, and certainly not to the point of abuse. The most I've ever drank in one night was the better part of a fifth of SoCo, and I'm still being told details of that evening.
"Words can't say this. The one word love means too little for what it is. It means everything and that is still not enough. It doesn't communicate even a fraction of the feelings involved. Love. The word is not enough for what it is. Love. Love."(316)
The part of the book that I related best to was when he fell for Lilly. Being in love is about the only addiction I've ever experienced. Always wanting to be with that person, never wanting to part. It's awesome and it's powerful and it's draining and it's exhilarating all at the same time. When you lose it, you crave it and fear that you'll never find it again. I suppose it's an addiction that most everyone wants, and it seems to be awfully hard to find sometimes. Each time you're lucky enough to find it, your mind and heart race with all the possibilities it poses. But each time you're unlucky enough to lose it, the pain seems more intense than the last, though you build your walls and defenses and it sadly becomes easier to deal with. Thus a vicious cycle begins. Each time you meet someone worthy of your love, it's harder and harder to let yourself go and just be.

you read it? your thoughts, please. being in love then and being in love now are worlds apart, and i'm curious how your view may have changed (especially if you read this review when i originally posted it on myspace).

sunday morning coming down

since the weather in morgantown, west virginia was bad and getting worse, the organizers of the trek to cooper's rock bailed on the trip. perhaps this weekend, we'll try again. waking up groggy and deflated from a blowout win, i expected a lazy sunday.

no, wait, i didn't. climbing! hellacious wind gusts overnight left the rocks nice and dry and the temps somewhere around 40. perfect. tromping down the leaf-strewn trail with my crash pad and a beginning of the day stranger, we searched for the fabled long wall and easter egg boulder. i'd tried in vain to find them this summer, but was appalled by the stench of raw sewage runoff from a spill earlier that week. i bailed about 100 yards from where i wanted to be.

there was no mistaking long wall. it was...a long..wall. well done and creative, you first ascensionists. the highball warm ups were more like free soloing, but the holds were good, even if the face was scummy from mud runoff. scrubbed 'em down, and topped 'em out. if it weren't for graffiti, i'd have sworn i was at lrc. good grippy texture, nice flat landing. sent a few lines there, including one that we refused to grade because the grades at this microcrag are all over the board. the prettiest line we had was technical and tested our footwork and contact strength. tim sent it first and i took away some moves with my ape index when i sent.

easter egg boulder was home to only two problems. first one, pull off the jugs to slopey slap-happy slabbing. dynamic to static moves. i'd liken it to udge, nudge, or grudge plus a move. not that i've done any of those three, but... the other one, didn't much try it. too small of holds for me, and my fingers were getting pretty tender from the schist and crystals. for pictures, check on facebook.

a good half day. anyone who comes to visit might actually get to boulder now. not a destination crag by any means, just something to futz around on if the weather's decent.

oh, metro!

i love people watching. a short one from yesterday morning.

headed to foggy bottom, teething toddler screaming bloody murder. as soon as i get on the train, i'm making faces at this kid. he immediately stops crying, starts bouncing and giggling and chewing on his little bitty rattles and toys and such. kind of like growing up going to mass with mom, except i was a little less reserved since it wasn't a stodgy church.

five metro stops later, his parents say thank you, little guy waves goodbye, and i set out for my epic walking adventures.

good grub, good stuff!

today i had a frat boy meeting, again. this colony re-expansioneering is a helluva time gobbler. that makes three events this week alone. i'm hoping it settles soon so that i can honor my commitment. i like my free time. i like my 80s movie nights with my better half. i like riding my bike. i like climbing. i realized something last night. i'm not the intense delt i used to be. the guys i keep up with have moved on with their lives, in that it's not the sole focus of their lives. do they hang out mostly with delts? yep. is it a result of our days at 1926 west university avenue? most definitely. i find that the guys i keep up with up here are almost anti-delts in their commitment to those days past. i was asked last night where the 10 or so boys of ol' florida were at the alumni events i've been to recently. absent. that's where. we'll work on that.

anyhow, the weather was supposed to be awful today. i walk out of the meeting, and it's a sunny, windy day. for some odd reason, i decide to kill my time by walking from foggy bottom to capitol hill. for you non-locals, that's about 3 miles as the crow flies. as you may know, i do not sport black feathers. it was a pretty nice walk. i passed a couple of protests for the G-20 summit, saw about a million dc cops, and ambled past a proposition 8 rally in front of the capitol. it was a nice day for a protest.

by this point, i'm starving. sandwich? nah. burrito? nah, too hit or miss. bar food? probably....WAIT A SECOND. good stuff? i like where your head's at. if you're not a top chef devotee, last season had a contestant named spike. kind of polarizing, but he opened a burger joint in capitol hill. i'd heard the buzz, and for once, i happened to be hungry and in front of its doors.

best. burger. ever.

i liked it so much, i went back after the game and had some fries and onion rings and a milkshake. all delicious. i've been craving a good burger for a while now. i think i might be a new addict.