Moving on up

Well, once again I apologize for my extended absence and the resulting lack of new blog entries.

This is a hard time of year for me. The deficiency of Fall sunlight and the cooling temperatures each contribute in their own way to my somber, lethargic frame of mind. I have to keep reminding myself that snowboarding season is just around the corner.

To be fair, I have been in the process of moving and as a result I have been overwhelmingly busy for the last few weeks. I sold what I could and threw out most of what I could not. It's absolutely incredible the amount of "stuff" you can accumulate in the course of just a few years. The rest of my possessions deemed "worthy of keeping" are now neatly packed into a 5x5 climate controlled storage locker.

What once served the purpose of being my primary residence is now a rental property and long term investment. About the only good thing that has come out of the current state of the housing market is that the renters market is in a frenzy since people are cautious about buying.

I am going to use the next few months to save cash for some exciting vacation plans that I have in Spring.

28 Days to Make or Break a Habit

Since I have not been actively participating in any outlandish excursions as of late, I figured I would digress a bit from the traditional theme of this blog.

Recently, I decided to abstain from drinking for 28 days, and to quit smoking indefinitely as part of an annual birthday time get healthy initiative.

Here I am and proud to say that after a long and sometime stressful 28 days, I still remain alcohol and nicotine free. A major feat for myself.

Even though I smoked cigarettes primarily after drinking, I began to find that they became mutually complimentary of each other. It was hard to have a smoke without a beer in my hand or to have a beer without lighting up a smoke.

So 28 days later; goal accomplished; I stand at the decisive decision to either take the chance and test the waters or maintain my abstinence. On one hand, I feel like I can handle alcohol while still making the conscious decision not to light up. However, on the other hand it's become a personal challenge to me to see how long I can go without alcohol.

Will let you know.

Natures Warning

A mild, balmy breeze nips through the outer layer of polyester protection, propelling itself deep into my skin. A tingling shiver abruptly runs the length of my spine inciting goosebumps throughout my upper cavity.

I step from the cool and temperate shadows of the trees and into the overwhelming radiance of the brilliant sun. And as I do, a crisp dew glistens in the morning sunlight just before it silently permeates my leather boots.

Snaps, crackles, and thrashes reverberate throughout the forest. I am reminded that the time is ripe for all kingdom and species to diligently assemble provisions for the impending threat of winter.

Today is the the third day of autumn.

Fun and Mishaps on the Shenandoah

So a few friends and I took a brief weekend trip out to the rural Shenandoah Valley for a much needed end of summer weekend getaway.

Saturday morning Sal, Sancho and I crammed all of our outdoor equipment into the back of my truck with not an inch to spare and set out on Route 66 westbound.

We ended up getting to our destination (the Down River Canoe Company) well before the rest of our crew so we took the initiative to set up our tents and camping equipment at our campsite nearby.

I had brought most of my extra gear for Bryan and his wife who are novice campers.

A couple of hours later we were loaded into a bright yellow school bus and driven the three miles upstream by an older butch looking woman.

Our goal was to float down and into our campsites. The river was seasonably low and moving at a snails pace. In a couple locations we were forced to get off of our inner tubes and push ourselves over rocks. "That's ok", I thought. "It's all about the relaxation."

At one point the river picked up and we managed to find a pretty decent sized swimming hole. Not too long after that I hopped off my raft to "relieve myself" of all the beer I had consumed. While I was attempting to leap back onto the raft, my foot slipped off a flat rock and managed to impale itself on a very sharp rock adjacent to the flat one. Blood immediately began gushing down my foot. I was concerned because as beautiful as the Shenandoah is, I knew of its reputation as a make shift sewer system for dairy cattle.

Retrospectively, I should have gotten medical attention immediately. But so it goes. After a long day of being in the open sun and rafting we finally made it to the Low Water Bridge.

Shortly thereafter with overwhelming appetites we started up the grill and threw on some hot dogs and burgers that would end up taking over 4 hours to cook.

We ended up getting a blazing campfire going and cooking our dogs over it. Even though I've sworn off eating pork, I was so hungry that I chose to disregard my moral principles and chow down on a dog or two.

The next morning the aching in my foot was starting to get the better of me. After the hour and a half drive back to DC, I hobbled over to Matilda's house to show her my battle wounds. She insisted that I go to Urgent Care and get stitches immediately. After thinking about it for a minute and remembering that the open sore on my foot had been marinating in the foul water of Shenandoah river for quite a while I decided it might be a good idea to get it looked at.

Three hours later I found myself face down on a doctors bed and a crusty doctor injecting my foot with Novocaine. Talk about excruciating pain! The needles hurt more than the abrasion. The doctor said that I had punctured my foot pretty deep and that it was at risk for an infection.

I am still taking my antibiotics and can not put pressure on the back of my foot.

All injuries aside, it still turned out to be a beautiful weekend.

Cape Follow Up

So, I've been extremely bad about updating my blog lately. Chalk it up to two parts "lack of energy", a teaspoon of "loss of ambition" with a smidgen of "scarcity of time"? ... or just call me a lazy stooge.

After a three year hiatus from the outer extremities of Massachusetts's, my plane touched down tenderly at Logan International airport slightly ahead of schedule. Imagine that! Just a few minutes later I found myself nervously awaiting on my large backpack that happened to be meticulously packed with a weeks worth of provisions. After a few anxious minutes, I grabbed my pack and hopped aboard a small water taxi in search of the high speed ferry.

The sixty mile ride across Cape Cod Bay aboard The Provincetown III would prove itself to be more of a gay cruise than a means of transportation for the overwhelming majority of the people on the boat. Public displays of affection were indiscreet and in no short supply, not that I'm complaining. In fact, beyond seeing a whale breach, it was one of the more amusing happenings on the ninety minute ride.

The ferry gingerly pulled in to the Provincetown pier around 1:30 pm. A close friend of my parents was kind enough to volunteer to pick me up.

Thanks to brother Rick my entire tent was already set up. This was already looking to be a great vacation.

The next day was even better. The weather was perfect and we went down to Head of the Meadow beach for our first beach day. Had I known that this would be one of our only beach days, I would have stayed longer. In any case, it was great to see my brother Tim in the ocean for the first time in 17 years. He was the first one in the ocean and the last out, none of my nieces or nephews had the stamina to stay in longer.

After a couple of days of rain in the campground, our spirits were becoming slightly frazzled. Tim and I took the liberty to buy about five pounds of Mussels and two dozen clams. Since my stomach was slightly queasy from all the Miller Lite swilled the night before, Tim was on his own. About an hour later, an empty twelve pack of Budweiser and a full garbage can of what was just previously five pounds of mussels stood before Tim.

During the nights we managed to commandeer someone else's beach fire almost every night. Rick, Tim, Jim and I sat by the ocean drinking beer, smoking cigars and taking it all in.

The following day I bought some sand eels at the bait store and threw in a line to see what was biting. Apparently crabs have a fondness for sand eels because I was constantly re-baiting my hook. I also tried to do some snorkeling and ended up entangled in some guys fishing line. I didn't see a damn thing. I'm convinced Cape Cod is now devoid of sea life (except crabs).

The last few days were somewhat stressful. Powerful wind storms had picked up. Everyone was in the mood to get on home. The next morning everyone took off except for my mother, Kevin, his family and myself. It was odd not having everyone around and I was looking forward to getting home myself as well.

The following day Kevin dropped me off in P-town and I hopped on board the ferry back to Boston. On the way back I noticed many of the same people from the ride over. However, instead of a loud festive atmosphere, most people were passed out, sprawled across seats or drinking bottled water. I laughed to myself. "It must be hard being gay".

Oh and on a final note, while sitting in the Boston airport waiting for my plane to come in from Washington I heard someone say "Thanks John", I looked up and who else would it have been? None other than John Kerry!

Cape Cod... Drink or Destination?

Cape Cod

Pour 1oz. Vodka
Mix Cranberry Juice
add Lime Wedge

or...

Spend seven days languishing in a lounge chair on the tip of the outer Cape with your entire immediate family minus 1 brother and 2 nieces, 525 miles from the politically charged, manic chaos that has come to define Washington, DC.

"I'll take the latter, extra heavy on the family please."

One to two weeks out of the summer in Cape Cod while growing up was a staple of my childhood. While I've finally come of age to appreciate it, this opportunity will be more than cherished. This will be the first time for many, many years that my entire family will all be vacationing there together.

Next week, you may be able to find me combing the local sea shore in a dire attempt to fetch the perfect sand dollar, carelessly strolling through Provincetown watching the hedonistic circus atmosphere take place, or sipping a Bloody Mary and gazing off into the horizon.

Cape Cod... one of the few places where an "anything goes" mindset is not just the norm, it's a constitutional requirement precedented by decades of overtly liberal, entertaining and outlandish folk.

Whether you go to the Cape to relax, body surf, fish, or engage in sexual libidinous behavior on the beach as identified in this article, it's a great place to be.

Everything is NOT All Good

Not too far beyond the precipice of the "mid-summer", an unwanted anxiety slowly begins to find its way into my well being.

Flashbacks to 30 degree temperatures, impending snow storm warnings, and complete incarceration for four months bring out my gag reflex.

Slowly but methodically, one day at a time, the later the summer gets the more my seasonal anxiety begins to strengthen its grip on my conscious.

That being said, last winter I made a pact to myself that I would get out and into the wild in order to spend as much time as I could attending festivals, hiking and camping. I'm confident that if some sort of audit was conducted at this very moment my progress report would reflect a modest B-. Had I not gone to Alaska and done some pretty arduous hiking and fishing I think I'd coast by with a simple C.

Which brings me to why everything is not All Good...

All Good festival - Martins Mountain Top, Masontown, WV the apex of all that summarizes my summers objectives and goals. Held annually, All Good festival brings about 30,000 jamsters from all over the states, as well as top notch talent consisting of the likes of Dark Star Orchestra, Perpetual Groove, Phil Lesh, etc... the list goes on.

Unfortunately for me, this year I've decided not to attend. It's not the three and half hour drive out to West Virginia, it's not the $150 ticket price, ok... well that may have something to do with it. It's the cost of everything god damn it! (230 miles x 2 = 460 total miles), assuming 20 miles per gallon in my truck comes out to approximately 23 gallons of fuel burned. 23 x $4.09 gass = ~$100.

Now take into account food and beverage (of which are also completely inflated) and you end up with a $400 dollar-2 day weekend. Good times or not, I just can't bring myself to do it. I can think of many other "good times" to be had that come in the shape of a 4o ounce cold dark bottle, a good book and a poolside lounge chair.

So, suffice it to say, with my spirits slightly dampened and my summer report card floundering, I'm going to try to make the best of my weekend out on the river again! My show must go on.