Fresh, Hot Wastes of Time

We have been out of town more often than not for the past couple of weeks. Last weekend and the weekend before we went to the ranch. Dove hunting season opened up, so we went out ready and willing to take a ton of birds, but since neither one of us has hunted doves in a few years, we ended up killing far more ammo than birdies. Cuervo was very excited to be out retrieving again. Kona, it turns out, is gunshy. We’re going to have to acclimate her to loud noises. Funnily enough she really doesn’t seem to care for fully automatic gunfire. Can’t imagine why.

Today we went out to see my aunt and uncle’s new ranch in the hill country. What a beautiful view… I can’t even begin to describe it. Up on top of a hill is a view that stretches for at least 20 miles (you can see the town in the distance), and has a perfect shot of the sun setting in the saddle of two tall hills. Ojalá que I had a camera. There’s also a mysterious cave in the ground, with the half-moon opening too small to accept my bloated body. Shining a flashlight in there shows some stalactites and stalagmites, though.

The weather today was outrageous. High around 82, clear and dry. This is my very favorite kind of weather. The leaves are starting to turn a little yellow; a reminder of death and birth and life all wrapped up in the subtle change of a tint.

While we were 2.5 hours away from home tonight, my cell rang – the alarm company, calling to tell me that the alarm went off at the house and police were on the way. They called back 30 minutes later to say that they think the dog set it off. Turns out a cat was locked in the kitchen and knocked a cooking pot off the counter.

I’ve got to get on the ball regarding the JournalCon! Things have been so hectic that I haven’t really had a chance to do much of anything. Including update my blog. Sorry.

Watching a train wreck is like watching a train wreck, kinda. You just can’t stop.

Last night we were about 20 minutes away from the ranch when my uncle called me to say there had been a train derailment in the front pasture, so I shouldn’t be surprised to see all sorts of people going in and out of the property. We dropped our things at the house and then rode down to the front to see what was going on. There were quite a few cars coming and going, and at that point the heavy equipment started arriving – bulldozers, backhoes, sideloaders, those big construction-area lights, you name it. Hub and I stayed out there from midnight until almost 4 am watching these guys do their thing. For such a remote site with no easy way to get to it, they were out there within hours and had equipment placed and ready to work. We took a bunch of pictures and put them on this web page. Pretty cool stuff, especially for guys. Three men I’ve spoken to during this have either longingly talked about how neat all that big equipment must look, or have watched with a glow of awe at how the big machines work. My conclusion is that boys of all ages love all kind of toys, but the bigger the better.

Go take a peek at the pictures and tell me what you think. I also have an obligitory scorpion picture (and a night of the Living Crickets series, very nice) which I will post later.

Never a dull moment! Must shoot Uzi more tomorrow. Bahahahah.

We’re off to the ranch this weekend, for a weekend of grownup stuff. Guns, fishing, jeep rides through the wilderness, stargazing, collecting arrowheads, watching wildlife, keeping an eye out for rattlesnakes, black widows, scorpions, brown recluses, and other non-friendly critters, and grownup movies. There’s even a “cold front” on the way through, which means highs in the low 90s and maybe upper 80s.

Hope everyone has a good weekend. I’ll be sure to post if we see some neat bugs, because I know how much y’all like that. Heh.

The short high-pitched squealing noise that we heard every thirty seconds while driving down the road to the back gate of Area 51.

The smell of jasmine all up and down the Strip, where it bloomed riotously.

The woman at the deli whose male companion had to give a heimlich as she choked.

Accidentally ordering Deep Throat on the hotel TV and having to call the front desk to ‘fess up.

The loud happy music of a slot machine that just hit a big jackpot; the crowd that gathered around me as I sat waiting for my payout.

Having a Blue Man crouch above the woman in the seat in front of me, peering around like a benign chicken

Hey, guess what? I just won 2700 dollars!

I think it’s time for bed now.

P.S. Blue Man Group was the best show ever, period, bar none, so go see it now now now because it’s mindblowing and hilarious and rockin’.

The old birthday meter clicked over to 33 today. I got the traditional singing telephone message from my brother this morning, which is always amusing. I like to save it and listen to it a couple of times.

Yesterday, after another stop at In’N’Out Burger, we drove out to Rachel, NV, home of the Little A’Le’Inn and close point to Area 51. We got some shots of the “Extraterrestrial Highway” sign (there was an ad for www.homestarrunner.com painted on the bottom, and someone from the AR15.com board had put up a “Peace through superior firepower” sticker on the sign.

At the Little A’Le’Inn we stopped for a minute and got some souvenirs and made sure nothing funny was going on because of the orange alert. Then we headed over to the back gate and took pictures of that gate, but hub was too chicken to stop the car and get out because the security guards (see the truck?) tore up to the gate just as we approached.

After that we stopped at the Black Mailbox (which is now white) and took more photos, then went down Groom Lake Road, about 15 miles down a gravel road in our little low slung convertible. That took a while. Then there was yet another photo op at the gate, while the guards looked on from their truck on the hilltop.

Then back to the hotel, where we ordered uninspired room service and went to bed early.

Tonight we’re off to Pietro’s for dinner. They’re supposed to be old-school gourmet room, making several menu items tableside. As a kid I loved to eat at La Louisianne in San Antonio and get their flaming desserts, but they closed years ago and I’m trying to recapture my youth. After dinner it’s off to Blue Man Group, where we have seats in the poncho section. Fourth row!

Here we are in Las Vegas at our suite in the Treasure Island – 950 square feet of decadence for $170/night. We just walked the couple of miles down to the Luxor (for a map of the strip, click here because when we were there a couple of years ago we won hundreds of dollars on this kiosk of slot machines. We located the kiosk and fed it. It was very hungry and didn’t even burp in return.

Our hotel has a Ben and Jerry’s in it. Or you can order a pint from room service for the low low price of $9.95. For a pint. Yeah.

Hub’s about to run over to In-N-Out Burger to get some grub. This burger chain is located in the West, and is insanely great. They actually cut French fries out of potatoes and fry them themselves. They hand pick lettuce and hand slice tomatoes and make shakes out of real ice cream and none of the meat is ever frozen. As a bonus you get a Bible verse on every napkin, wrapper, and cup. Ok, maybe it’s not a bonus, but with food like that I don’t mind being preached to.

After all the walking I did today, I imagine I’m going to be confined to a blackjack table tomorrow. (Oh damn.) It’s always my luck that our airport gate is diametrically opposite from the entrance we go into. IAH is doing some renovation and the jetway we came in through was probably 1/4 mile long.

We don’t have net access in the room so I’m scarfing up our wireless minutes and using my Treo as a wireless modem.

By the way, I took a Xanax about 15 minutes before boarding and was very happy all through our flights. I highly recommend flying medicated. Thanks to my aunt for the tip. Hub didn’t take anything and he was white-knuckled the whole way. They played About Schmidt on the plane and I dunno if it was because I was dopey or because it was a touching movie but I cried and cried and cried at the end and embarrassed hub. Luckily the woman across the aisle was crying too so I didn’t feel alone.

We’re flying to Las Vegas tomorrow and both of us are terrified. I think it’s the fact that we’re at the mercy of the pilot, rather that captains of our own destiny. I’m excited about the vacation, but not the trip there or back. I used to love to fly, but now have what you could categorize as a severe phobia.

Kill or cure, right?

I’m hoping for cure.