2017

At the end of 2015, some of you remember I wrote a post about my year in review. (you can read it here.) Well, I guess when my year turned over I wasn't really interested in blogging. Or setting goals of any kind, because I didn't update anything. This year, I'm getting around to it. 

2017 has been challenging to say the least. I won't go into detail here, but I'll just say it's been real, and I'm not sad to see the year go. Don't get me wrong, it hasn't been all bad. Caleb and I have had a lot of fun this year, but I just feel like most of the year was stress. I don't know how I have hair left, to be honest. Here are some things I learned. (These are lessons I learned, but the examples do not reflect my own experiences this year. 

1) Don't settle. 

2) Don't go into debt.

3) Being generous is great. Just make sure you aren't screwing yourself over when you decide to be.

4) Adventure. Adventure. Adventure!

1) Don't settle. Not for your job. Not for the car you drive. Not for anything. And when I say don't settle for your job, I don't mean don't settle for a starting position when you think you could be a manager. If you find a starting position at the company you want to work at, take it. But don't settle for staying in that starting position. There is always room for improvement. Also, when I say not to settle for the car you drive, I don't mean go buy a Porsche you're going to default on within a month because you've always wanted a Porsche. I mean do what is going to be best for you in the long term. Which leads right into number 2..

2) Don't go into debt. If you're very good at managing your money and creating a budget, you could probably get away with this one. I did for a long time. You can put your car insurance or your utility bill on your credit card and just pay it off every month. It boosts your credit score, you can get a lot of miles on it, and it can benefit you a lot. BUT, if you let it get out of control - not just credit cards - it can eat you alive. You'll wind up like one of the millions of Americans living paycheck to paycheck just trying to stay afloat with $.37 left to their name after they've paid their bills. Just because there's $200 leftover in your budget every month doesn't mean it needs to be going towards a payment on something. Save it. Pay off debt. Get out of debt. Have 75% of your paycheck available to save and spend on whatever it is you want to buy. 

3) Being generous is great. Just make sure you aren't screwing yourself over when you decide to be. If you have some extra crap laying around you don't need and won't use, you can sell it. If it's not worth selling, or would take too much effort, you can give it to goodwill or a church. But when your friend calls and says they need $100. Make damn sure you aren't just giving them $100 because they decided to blow their grocery money on a new pair of shoes. Let them learn their lesson. Also, if you're going to buy or sell something from a friend or family member on payments - write up a contract and get it notarized. It seems petty, especially for family, but it can wind up saving you a lot of headache and resentment. Besides, if they aren't willing to sign a contract, it's either because they were planning to screw you over, or because they were planning to screw you over. Either way, they probably don't really need what you're selling, and you can probably sell it to someone else who is willing to sign for it. Don't let saving someone's feelings come back to bite you in the butt.

4) Adventure. Adventure. Adventure! This one might just be me and some of you like me. Adventure is what keeps me sane. I need a little bit of adventure in my life. I need to go camping, or go on a road trip that's just for fun. I need some "me" time. "Me" time at home taking a bath with no one talking to me is pretty great. But "me" time on a kayak in a river several hours from home is even better - even if I'm with someone. Hike a 14er. Go camping. Go on a road trip to see friends in the next state for the weekend. Get a cheap plane ticket to Las Vegas for the weekend. Take a break from work and go somewhere.

I don't usually do the whole New Years Resolution New Year New Me thing. Instead, I have a list of outlandish tasks to accomplish. In 2015 one of my goals was to fist fight a shark. It was a joke, but it just so happened that I went swimming with nurse sharks in Belize. I tapped one with my fist and claimed it as a win. Kick a pigeon was also on my list. I made contact with one in Venice, Italy. Score. Get launched from a trebuchet was also on my list for the year. Thankfully, I didn't manage that one. But those were two of my most proud moments for the year. I'm pathetic, I know. 

As exciting as it was for me to kick a pigeon and kinda punch a shark, I think I'll set some goals that are a little more realistic this year.

1) Renew my passport. - Honestly, I've been meaning to do this since Caleb and I got married. I just haven't done it yet. It's only $100, but since we don't have any international trips coming up, there hasn't been a reason to do it. I want to renew my passport so I'm one step closer to crossing a border.

2) Get. Out. Of. Debt. - I feel like this one is self-explanatory.

3) Find a profitable side hustle. - We all want some extra money. I'd like to find a side hustle good enough that I can turn it into a job after Caleb and I have kids. I don't want to be stuck doing shift work the rest of my life. I want to home school my kids, make my own schedule, and take vacations when I want. How glorious would that be?

4) Go on more adventures. - Caleb and I went camping and we did some road trips for no apparent reason other than why not. But not nearly enough for my tastes. I want to fill our summer up with random adventures and road trips. 

5) Buy a house. - I've never wanted so badly to own a house as when I'm sitting at work, scrolling through pinterest, saying, "Oh, that would be great to do in our backyard!" only to remember I don't have a backyard. Once we get some debt taken care of, I'm sure we'll be finding a house to buy.

That's about all I have for now. I wish everyone luck in achieving their own goals or new years resolutions this year. I'll be posting more throughout the year to let everyone know what goals I've met!

Cargo Trailer to Toy Hauler Conversion

Hello Everyone,


It's been a minute (Ok, more like a year) since I last posted. Life has been moving along pretty quickly for us. Especially the last few months. Long story short, I was medically discharged from basic training and Caleb got out of the Army the following week. We weren't really planning on that, so my husband's idea for what to do while I was at basic wasn't going to work with both of us. So plans changed. We moved to Arkansas! We are living with my parents since we had to move on short notice, and Caleb is probably going to go to a school for several months. I'd rather live at my parent's house while he's gone and save money than live alone waiting on him to get home.


Most people would be pretty bummed about moving back in with their parents, but honestly, my folks are cool, y'all. We might as well have the whole back of the house to ourselves. We try to keep everything pretty neat though. And our furniture wasn't all going to fit into the already furnished house without some major moving around. So we bought a cargo trailer for our move. We'd been wanting to get one anyway, so why not?


Originally, we were going to get a small cargo trailer so we could just put our crap in it and use it for the dirt bikes later. Well, we had a lot of crap. So we got a bigger trailer. A car hauler trailer. It's 20'X8'. Right now we only have one dirt bike (I'm sure that will change before long), and honestly, as much as I love my husband and I love watching him race, I do not love sitting outside in a folding chair between races while the wind is blowing and the dust is flying in my face all day. So we decided to convert our cargo trailer into a kind of toy hauler. Here's how we did it.

The before picture

This is what we started with. It's a 2018 Interstate 20'X8' trailer. It weighs 3,000 pounds dry, is dual axle, and the GVWR is 7,000lbs. There were already some stains on the floor because, well, we used it. But we really didn't care. After all, this is a toy hauler, and that's the garage area.


We started by ripping out the cheap "borders" that were covering the seams of the plywood. It was coming off the wall in places after only having the trailer a few weeks. And it looked like trash - so that's where we put it. In the trash. Then we replaced it with 1"x4" boards. This way the seams would be covered, it wouldn't look like trash, and if we needed something besides plywood to mount things to, we had it.

The walls have been stained. The floor is next!

Next, we stained the walls. We were pretty lazy about this stain. We used Thompson's oil-based Walnut stain. It has a sealant in the stain, so it should keep the wood from soaking in any water. Not sure why we would get water all over the interior walls, but we do some weird stuff sometimes, so better safe than sorry. We also chose this stain because we could be really lazy about putting it on. We didn't have to put on a bunch of coats. Or sand between coats. Or paint it on then wipe it off. Or put it on with a clean rag. We straight up just used old paint brushes to put on a single thin layer and let it dry. The lighting on the picture isn't very good, but I think it turned out pretty good! We didn't put any polyurethane on the walls or anything. Because, again, we're lazy.


Next, we wanted a partition so we could have the "chilling" area and the garage separate. We were going to put a doorway between them, but ultimately decided it would take up too much space. Even just having a hole in the wall there would be kind of a pain because it would mean we couldn't put a tool box or riding gear there, and we couldn't put anything on the wall. The box looking thing you see in the trailer is the beginning of our partition. Caleb simply cut some 2"x4"s to size and screwed them to the 1"x4"s that were screwed into the steel supports in the trailer so it would be sturdy. We had thought of just using a couple sheets of plywood and screwing them directly into the 1"x4"s, but we wanted it to be sturdy enough to lean on, and heavy duty enough to hang stuff on the wall. So there are a couple 2"x4"s in the middle there as well so we have some studs to screw things to.

The floor in the living area

 Next came the floors. We decided to make the front living area look super fancy and stain the floor. Yes, that wall there is gray instead of stained. For no other reason than because we thought we would like it and we didn't. But, it'll be covered up by the couch, so it doesn't matter. The inside of the door is also that color. The floor turned out pretty nicely. The color isn't evenly colored because for some reason that bit of wood just wouldn't soak the stain in very well, but again, it's a toy hauler. It'll be fine if everything isn't perfect.


We decided to paint the floor in the garage area with a gray colored garage floor paint. We used it because it is supposed to seal the floor and not allow oil and other spills to soak into the wood. It's meant for use on concrete, but it painted the wood just fine. It needed more than one coat, but it didn't take long to dry.

The floor in the garage after the first coat of paint

We were going to put a few coats of polyurethane on the floor in the living area, but it kept raining so we couldn't leave the trailer open to let the stain dry. And Christmas (and therefore family) was coming to the house, so we needed to get our project cleaned up and out of the way. So for now, there is only one coat of poly on the step that leads into the trailer. It looks good, but to get the shine I really wanted we were going to have to put on at least 3 coats. We will get around to that later - after family has gone home and my fingers don't freeze when I walk outside.


You get a little better view of the frame for the partition Caleb put in. The bottom board was just screwed into the floor of the trailer and the side boards were screwed into the wall as described earlier. The board along the ceiling doesn't go quite all the way to the ceiling. We didn't want it completely closed off because that's a lot of work for literally no reason. We used a couple of L joints to secure the ceiling board to the boards on the side and we used L joints again to secure the "studs" to the top and bottom boards.




The step before the poly

The step after the poly

 

For the rest of the partition, all that was necessary was to cut the plywood to fit, and screw it to the frame and studs already built in the trailer. We threw some stain on it real quick, and Caleb did not wait on it to dry before he put his posters and race numbers on the wall. I'm sure the backs of those things have some stain on them, but aside from that, there were no adverse side effects. Caleb screwed the wheel chalk into the trailer and didn't even let me take a picture before he put his bike in there (to be fair, I didn't ask. It was cold.) There's enough room to put at least three bikes in the garage part of the trailer, but since we only have one right now, we won't bother with additional wheel chalks or tie downs until later. We also didn't paint the ramp yet because this photo was taken during the only 30 minutes of sunshine we've had in a week. We put grip tape down on the ramp so there's no chance of slipping while loading the bike (honestly, Caleb would probably never slip. But I would. I would probably slip at least twice any time I tried to load the bike. Or anything else, for that matter. And yes, we put a strip of grip tape on the step into the front part of the trailer too).

The finished (mostly) product

The final step for the garage area was to tie down Caleb's toolbox. There were some smaller D-rings that came already installed in the trailer and we just took them out and moved them so we could strap the tool box down. Also, the "legs" you see on the toolbox are just wood. So Caleb used a "toe-in" method to screw the feet to the floor as well. It shouldn't be going anywhere. There's that extra strap you may see over the drawers and that's because we really don't want them to come open and spill while we're driving anywhere. You may also notice there is a LED light bar on top of the partition wall. We got that off of wish.com about a year ago for $30 (they're usually a few hundred dollars and this one works great!). It was on my jeep (RIP, Janet). And it's just been sitting in the garage being worthless ever since my jeep got totaled. Caleb is going to get it hooked up to the lights that are already in the trailer sometime in the next week (that will actually happen. Because he's a man and this is his garage and lights are important in  a garage. Everything else will wait). He should have PLENTY of light in there if he ever loses a tool or a bolt.

 

The living area!

And finally, we have the living area. Again, we didn't finish staining that wall because we are lazy. I'll do it later. After the temperature rises above 30 degrees. You'll see the couch mostly covers up the gray wall mistake, and our area rug (which I stole from my little sister's horse trailer. Thanks, Jessica!) covers up the fact that I haven't finished doing poly on the floor yet. I will note, we did have to put the couch in before putting the wall up. It's just a little too big to fit through the man door. No big deal though. We don't really plan on taking it out (until I get the motivation to do the poly on the floor.. So maybe never, but definitely not until it gets warmer). And honestly, it wouldn't be all that hard to. Just a few screws and that plywood would come down and we could haul it out of there.

The living area is obviously not finished. We plan to put a small TV where our old license plates are at so we can watch TV and maybe play xbox when we are staying at the track overnight. We're going to be putting in some rope lights along the top of the living area and the garage here in a couple weeks when we get the chance. Eventually we will add a window and a real latch to the man door since right now it can only be opened and closed from the outside. We'll also put in a fan that goes into the roof, and maybe some shelves. But again. That's a project for 30+ weather.

We'll put in a shelf and a TV here.

The beauty of a leather couch is it can get dirty!

 

We also thought about putting polished aluminum on the bottom half of the walls, but it was $60 for a 3'x3' square. Not only are we lazy, we're also cheap. So we skipped that part. Although it would have looked pretty awesome. We may add it later, but I highly doubt we will stop being cheap anytime soon.

So there you have it. That's how we turned our cargo trailer into a (kind of) toy hauler in under a week; and for less than $300! We had a lot of fun doing this and it was definitely a good exercise in both communication and patience for both of us. I'm not exactly skilled with construction, but Caleb was a Seabee, so I learned a lot! We would honestly love to do this again, so if someone wants to buy this one, we are willing to sell it so we can start over!

Until I remember I have this blog again, Merry Christmas, everyone!

Starving For Oxygen

Somewhere on the way up Bierstadt.

I  know it's been a hot minute since I posted last. Update: I'm still alive. I've stopped playing Pokemon Go. I believe I've regained my true identity. 

I'm allowed to mountain bike again. While I can't do any gnarly jumps or downhill tracks until next summer, Caleb and I have been out to Oil Well Flats to ride. I actually traded my mountain bike for a rifle. Not because I'm never going to ride again. That's preposterous. But I'd actually been trying to sell my old Gary Fisher for a while and, well, it's old and none of the real enthusiasts out here wanted that old hunk. But one of Caleb's friends rode it and wanted it, so he gave me a rifle. I don't even know what kind it is. 7mm WSM? We have another mountain bike I've been riding. It's a hard tail, but since I'm only allowed to ride easy trails right now, it's perfect for me. Over the winter Caleb is going to build me a new bike from the ground up so I'll have a sick new ride come next summer when I can rip again. I know he'll make sure to build a super capable bike, so my only request is that it looks cool.

In the mean time, we've taken up the cliche' hobby of climbing 14ers.

At the top of Mt. Sherman.

I'm not 100% sure why we got into this. I think it has to do with me not being able to do anything particularly fun. I couldn't ride, run, climb, or swim, so I took up hiking while Caleb was mountain biking. Then my doctor said I should start carrying a light pack around a few times a week to deal with the sensitivity over my collarbone where I had my surgery. So of course the only logical solution is to climb one of the fifty something mountains over 14,000 ft in the state of Colorado. I think those pain meds the doc gave me must have done permanent damage, cause I actually went through with this. Caleb and I loaded up and took the dogs to Mt. Sherman one weekend.

At the top of Bierstadt, starving for oxygen.

We summitted and I was happy to never do one again. But then Caleb did another one on his own. And I volunteered to do another with him the next weekend. I don't know why. I hated ever minute of going up. Except when we stopped and I got to eat watermelon candies we brought.. Then at the top, for some reason, I thought I was having fun. I think it had to do with the lack of oxygen. For someone who is used to having a healthy supply of oxygen in their lungs, it can make you a little loopy.. And sick. And delusional enough to think you're having fun. But the view is nice, so there's that. The best part though is always getting back to the truck. The dogs get in and pass out and we roll down all the windows, and, hoping they'll have enough energy to bite anyone who tries to steal our stuff, we leave them there. And go get margaritas and beer and the biggest cheat meal we can fit in out stomachs. Because we earned it.

We've only done two mountains so far, but weather

Handies Peak, Colorado. AKA, the baby Fitz Roy.

and mechanic issues on our new jeep permitting, we're going to do another this weekend. Probably Handies. Cause it looks beautiful. And it reminds me of a really tiny version of Mt. Fitz Roy in Patagonia. And while I don't necessarily want to climb Mt. Fitz Roy, I'm going to see it first hand one day. If I ever find myself in South America, I'm going to detour to go see it. I don't care if I'm in French Ghana and I have to hitch hike and figure out a way to make money the whole way. It's gonna happen, y'all.

Mt. Fitz Roy, Chile-Argentina border, Patagonia.

 Anyway. That's all I really have for now. I'll post again next time I pick up a new hobby, break a bone, or win the lottery.

I Must Survive.

28 May 2016

Caleb and I have recently been told about a Demo Day at Angel Fire Bike Park in Angel Fire, New Mexico. We feed our dogs, pack up our mountain bikes and gear, and point the truck south. We've never been to Angel Fire before, nor have we ever been to a bike park like this. We misjudge how long it will take us to get to Angel Fire, it takes a little longer than we would've liked to find the bike park, and find where we buy lift tickets. Since it's already past noon and the lifts will stop mid afternoon, we only buy a two ride pass for each of us. I ride my Gary Fisher with barely enough travel on the front end to avoid breaking it under my own weight. Most of my day is spent on the easiest trail there.. It's basically a fire road with small jumps that are easily avoidable for those who aren't so brave. I am incredibly brave. I net a grand total of twenty-one and three-quarters of an inch of air the whole day. We're invited to stay at the hotel in town with a friend who will be there for the weekend. We have dogs at home who already hate us. We head home.

29 May 2016

We are determined to arrive earlier, get full day passes, and rip up the mountain the entire day. We get an early start, and because we now knew the appropriate locations for parking, signing in, bike rentals, and everything else, we are on the mountain fairly quickly. This time, I'm riding a rental bike. A GT Fury. Caleb is riding an Intense M9 borrowed from a friend. After the lift is stalled due to weather, we finally make it to the top. It's snowing. We look pretty bad ass. We take photos of each other. 

 We quickly descend the mountain. It's cold. It's so cold my fingers have lost all feeling and I can't tell if I'm squeezing the brakes or the handles. It's a sick ride. In this descent alone I  net several feet of air for I am brave.

At the bottom of the mountain I return my rental GT and discover there are no available bikes my size. Caleb decides to ride his GT Sanction Pro while I take the Intense M9 for a rip. We ride a sweet, smooth trail together for a while. Eventually we wind up on a trail called Lower Boogie. Caleb passes me and adjusts to his own pace, leaving me in the dust. I am fine with this.

I am not afraid to ride alone. I catch very little air as most of the trail as been swooping turns. I finally spot a gnarly looking jump. Finally! It was time to get more than one foot of air in a single jump! I hit the jump and immediately regret my decision to hit this jump as fast as I can. I haven't reset the rear suspension for my 130 pound frame. Caleb is 215 pounds and the suspension is still set up for him. I find the rear wheel to be above me, the bike doing a front flip with me at it's center. "Ride it out," I tell myself. The next thing I know, I'm on my back sliding down the back side of the table top and I've allowed my body to go limp. I lie still for a moment. "I shouldn't have hit that jump so fast.." I stand up and walk over to the large, green bike, thinking I will ride a little more slowly down the remainder of the trail. I pick up the big green giant and realize I cannot lift my right arm. I sit on the side of the trail a moment longer and eventually come to the conclusion that I must walk to the base of the mountain. I grab the bike with my left hand and begin to trudge down the mountain. I arrive at the clearing beneath the lift and sit. I begin to search for my cell phone to text Caleb. A bike patrolman arrives to assist me with my injuries. "Are you ok?" he asks. "Yeah. I broke my collarbone." "Do you know your name? What time it is? The date?" I resist the urge to tell him I don't keep track of those things and tell him what he wants to know. He determines I do not have a head injury and removes two triangular bandages from his bag to form a sling for my right arm. A side by side arrives to take me down the mountain. I've made it easy for them since I am on the poor excuse for a road. Before now I hadn't noticed the pain, but every bump on the ride down to the medic's lodge makes me more and more aware of how much I hurt.

I've made it three and a half rides into the summer and my new sport of downhill before I've ruined the remainder of my summer.

Caleb meets me at the medic's lodge where the PA takes a floor scan and tells me with utmost certainty that I will need surgery. They put me in a sling and give me some narcotics as well as muscle relaxers and blanket. I don't think it's cold out, but I can't stop shivering. Caleb and I stop for dinner on our way out of town and I almost ask for his assistance with removing my own pants in the bathroom. God did not make me ambidextrous.

10 June 2016
My surgery is scheduled for today. I've never had a surgery before. I've never even broken a bone before. The surgeon tells me I will wake up in much more pain than I've been in since the break. I'm not looking forward to it. When I wake up I do not notice any pain, I simply know the bracelet on my wrist says I am a fall risk. Someone shows me a photo of an x-ray that I assume is mine. I insist on getting into the truck on my own power. I must prove I am not a fall risk.

12 June 2016
I've worn my hospital gown for two days. I can feel my plate and the screws drilled into my bone. They are ever present in my mind. I hate them, though they allow me to move better. Caleb has been waiting on me hand and foot. Were I a lesser person, I would easily become addicted to these narcotic pain killers. It's like being drunk, only better. But I can't stand being a drooler for so long. I quit taking them within a few days.

20 June 2016
Caleb has returned to work and I don't know what to do with myself. I'm not due back at my job for another week. I practice eating left-handed, but still wind up with food on my shirt at least once a day. I've been playing video games. I don't know who I am anymore.

15 July 2016
I've been back at work for a while now. I'm not longer wearing my sling. I even went running several times last week. My doctor has scolded me for this activity and I must desist. I still need to keep my arm below 90 degrees and cannot lift more than 5 lbs. Come the 22nd my range of motion should return to normal and I may run and ride my bike on fire roads again. The date nears and it excites me, yet the inability to participate in my usual activities drives me to insanity. I download Pokemon Go. My former identity slips further away. I will be fully recovered the first week of September. I debate trying to go into cryosleep until then. Research tells me this is not a feasible solution. I must survive. I can only hope there is enough left of me to recover come September.

I will post again. 

It's Time For A Rant

There's a little something I need to get off my chest.
         
          People are retarded. We've all seen videos like this where a Hillary supporter is asked about whether they support her tax policies and when they keep saying "yes" the inquirer then lets them know those are actually Trump's policies. Now, I'm not going to say only Hillary supporters are that dumb. I mean, let's be honest, you could pull the exact same trick on Trump supporters. Also, how many random people off the street even know what the Alternative Minimum Tax is? Even if you do know what that is ( it's basically a way to keep people from going through a loop hole to pay fewer taxes. It's been amended over the years  to ensure that the rates keep up with inflation), to know whether or not you support it, you probably want to know if it's being replaced and what with; and even then you probably have to have more than a basic understanding of how the tax system for those people works.
         
          The point here is that people are stupid enough to say "I support Hillary because it's time for a woman to be in the White House." or "I support Trump because he isn't Hillary." ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! No one should care whether our next president has a penis or a vagina, if they're black, white, or green, or how politically correct they are. (If you really want to vote for someone other than Hillary, Trump isn't your only option! There's this wonderful libertarian party with a candidate named Gary Johnson.) You can like those qualities, but they shouldn't be the main reason you vote for that candidate. The main concern that should be in everyone's mind is, "If elected, where will this candidate take us? Will we be better off in four years? What about in eight?" If you begin your answer to those questions with anything remotely close to their race or gender, you're a problem and I pray to God you don't go to the polls this November. Yes, you have the right to vote and you should exercise it. But exercising your right to vote doesn't mean going to the polls and putting an "X" by whoever is a female or isn't Hillary, it's a right our service men and women have fought and died for, so take it seriously, and do YOUR OWN research. And by "your own research" I don't mean watching only Fox News at dinner. No one ever made an informed decision by listening to only one side of an argument, or even an opposing view that you couldn't really hear because people were shouting over and at them . And believe me, Fox News and CNN might invite someone from the other side to be guests for their little discussions, but even if they chose a good representative of the other side, they're so outnumbered and the debate is so unsportsmanlike that you would never know if they had a good argument or not. Honestly, when is the last time you saw a Democrat on Fox News be allowed to engage in a calm debate where their views were respected enough that the other four Fox anchors weren't talking over them and degrading their point of view the whole time?

          "Your own research" means you go on the internet to multiple sources (preferably not big main stream media names) and read about the pros and cons of each candidate. Then when you see that Trump is proposing getting rid of the Alternative Minimum Tax, you look up what that is. Then you look up if and what it's being replaced with (according to his website, it's simply being eliminated and a flat tax rate will be imposed on everyone instead.) Maybe you look up the accusations that Hillary leaked classified documents by handling them improperly. Maybe you decide to read 13 Hours by Mitchell Zuckoff and decide whether you think (based on your even more extensive research of the Secretary of State's position and capabilities) Hillary could have made an effort to save the lives of those men. Or maybe you decided to ignore the evidence that suggests Benghazi was a coordinated attack rather than retaliation to the Innocence of Muslims trailer released on youtube.

          I have faith there are some intelligent, capable people out there who will do their own research on our presidential candidates and come to a logical conclusion on who to vote for - even if they come to a conclusion different than mine.

          ..... But then again, in 2012 I had someone ask me if Syria was in Benghazi and had someone else tell me they wanted Obama to win the election because they wanted free birth control and no gun control.. So my faith in 98% of the US voting population is shot. I'm relying on the other 2% to do their own research, provide logical arguments, and make informed decisions when heading to the polls this year.

March 13th.

On 13 March 2015 some of you will recall I was on Belize's island of Caye Caulker with my friend Dave. It was my very first trip outside the United States, and it proved to be quite eventful. It was a Friday the 13th, the power and running water were out for the whole island. We went snorkeling where I swallowed my fear of open water (and a lot of ocean water). Then I drank a few too many beers to dilute the saltwater, and with the reassurance of Dave and Seb, a British fellow we met at The Split, dove into the ocean to swim the 100 meter split and back. While a storm rolled in. And I nearly drowned in the ocean.

Belize was probably the best trip of my life. I'd been wanting for as long as I could remember to just drop everything on a moment's notice and take a flight to anywhere outside the U.S. and go for an adventure. I may have had a twenty-four hour notice, but it satisfied my need just fine. Much better, in fact, than the month long solo tour in Europe. Because, while my plane ticket to Spain was a one-way ticket, I bought it six weeks in advance. It was like biting into a bitter piece of candy. I loved it, but it wasn't nearly as awesome as sitting on a dock in the Caribbean knowing that only twenty-four hours prior, I'd had no plans to leave the states. It was liberating and I wouldn't trade that experience for any other.

If, while I was sitting on that dock, someone had told me I would be getting married in a year, I wouldn't have believed them. If they showed me some sort of proof, I probably would have cried. At that point in my life nothing sounded better than being single for the rest of my life. The very thought of a relationship almost made me gag. Marriage, for me, has pretty much always sounded like a trap. It was as if, at the wedding ceremony, the priest who married you sucked all the fun out of your life and brain washed you. You began as this fun-loving, adventure having, spontaneous person and were magically transformed into just another suburbian with a white picket fence and HOA fees. You stopped traveling, skydiving, mountain biking, and basically anything else awesome and started mowing the yard on Saturdays and taking long Sunday naps.

Thank God that's not true. I mean, it could be. We haven't had our wedding ceremony yet. The Chaplain very well might put a curse on us and turn us into normal-ass people. But so far, Caleb and I have done quite well to keep adventure a regular part of our lives. We rock climb, ride dirt bikes, go hiking and camping, and even have plans to drive the Pan American in our truck. With the dirt bikes, of course. I'm convinced there's nothing the Chaplain can say on 13 March 2016 that will change the person I was on 13 March 2015 except that I'll be married and I'll have a reliable partner in my adventures. Someone I know is as strong and capable as he is intelligent and adventurous. In two weeks I'll go from being a solo traveler who wakes up and says, "I think I'm going to fly to Ireland today" to someone who, over dinner, says, "Hey, wanna drive to Red Rocks in Vegas next weekend to climb?" or, "Let's go to Germany." And while we may have to limit our overseas travels while we're tied to the Army, that's a sacrifice I'm willing to make so I can keep this guy around.

Moral of the story, marriage isn't a trap (probably). Having kids is a whole different story though. Having kids is definitely a trap. Use birth control.

Mothers.

Mothers. Mothers are pests. When you got your first tattoo, your mother was the first to FREAK OUT. When you got arrested for DUI and called her to bail you out, she stood on the other side of the glass and laughed, then walked away without bailing you out so you could learn your lesson a little more thoroughly. When you dated that person in high school who was never going to amount to anything, your mother was the one who told you you were wasting your time. When you didn't do your homework or failed a class your mother was there to ground you until your GPA came up.

There are a lot of important people in your life. Brothers and sisters. Spouses and best friends. Grandparents and cousins. But for those of us who have a good relationship with our mothers, literally nothing can replace that.

Aside from your parents, your siblings are usually the ones who have been around you the most. They've been your partners in crime, blamed you for peeling wallpaper off the bathroom wall, and bet you a Reeses Cup to touch a hot stove for five seconds. They know how to push your buttons. And when you got a DUI and were freaking out that your parents would kill you, you called your big brother to help you pay it off without them finding out. Siblings will be there for you as much as they can. Until you make them mad. Then they'll rat you out to mom and dad and you'll face the firing squad for getting caught with beer at nineteen.

Your siblings are awesome (sometimes). But they're not your mother. Your mother is the one who pulls a wooden spoon out of her back pocket when you and your brother get caught tying fireworks to the cat's tail. She's the one who knows by the look on your face you're not the wallpaper peeling culprit. She won't just bandage your hands when you held your hand on the hot stove for an extra second to make sure you got the Reeses Cup your brother bet you, she'll tell you how stupid you were for doing it. Your siblings may love you, but your mother has done more than love you. She has endured you.

Your mother knows you better than anyone. She may not know your overly complicated sorority girl coffee order like your best friend or significant other does, but she makes up for it in other ways. When you call your mother crying your eyes out about a mid-twenties crisis that's not really a crisis, you don't even have to get your first word out before she starts telling you exactly what you need to hear. That's because she's probably known exactly what you were going to freak out about for a while. And when you find yourself wandering aimlessly around a foreign country, your mother is the one who knows what to say to make sure you don't come home until you've accomplished what you went there to do. Even if you don't know what that something is. Your mother knows your personality so well you don't even need to consult a psychic or a palm reader. She knew when you were eighteen you would marry someone several years older than you. She also knew you weren't getting married until you were at least twenty-four. She knew when you were five you would enjoy jumping out of planes and backpacking solo through Europe as an adult. And when you're teetering on the edge of a big decision, she doesn't just tell you the right decision, she helps you through the decision making process so you can make the decision on your own and move forward with confidence.

Ultimately, your mother is the one who has been your disciplinarian, your shoulder to cry on (even if you don't really cry), and your best source of advice. She's the one who spent your entire life making sure you would grow up to be a capable and independent individual. And for as long as she's around, you won't find anyone to match her.


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2015 in Review

Every year, when most people are thinking about their new year resolutions, I like to add a few minutes to reflect on my past year. The adventures I've had, the people I've met, and the life lessons I've learned.

First off, I would like to say that I should have probably looked at my list from 2014 more throughout 2015. Last year, I learned the following 6 things.

1) College is a lie. < - I still find this unbearably true.
2) Enjoy being single. Few men are worth a power-walk. < - Also unbearably true.
3) Free time. It's a rare commodity. Use it. Love it. < - It doesn't feel so rare right now. But these are words I desperately find myself needing at this particular time in my life.
4) Some things are better with a buzz. < - I'm honestly upset that I don't have any alcohol right now...
5) Regular adventures are important to your overall happiness. < - So. Many. Adventures!
6) Having a purpose is equally important. < - Acutely and painfully aware of this one.

2015, for me, has been one of the most challenging and rewarding years I can remember. I've gone from gainfully employed to happily unemployed to backpack. I've left the U.S.A. for the first time, traveling to four different nations on two different continents. I hiked my first portion of the Appalachian Trail, camped in the Catskill mountains, fell in love with New York City, moved across the country to live in Colorado, worked as a mechanic's apprentice and a police dispatcher. I've fallen in love, learned new hobbies, lived on my own, lost my job, and struggled with unemployment. Through it all, these are the biggest lessons I feel I've learned over the past year.

1) Traveling solo is the best cure. For anything.
2) Never take your friends and family for granted.
3) Get a dog.
4) When you find a man worth power-walking for - jog.
5) If you don't know anything else about who you are, know the purpose you want to serve.

#1 - Traveling solo is the best cure. For anything. - Seriously. Heartbreak, mid-life crisis, ignorance, you name it, I'm willing to bet there's a valuable lesson to be learned when you visit another country. Perhaps even a new city or state. When you find yourself alone in another country playing charades so you can order a piece of pizza, you discover something about yourself. You find out that you're resourceful. You learn how to be calm and kind in frustrating situations (you really don't want to piss off the only person on the train who speaks English, but if they find you pleasant and sweet, they may become your new tour guide!). These are just a couple of the ways I grew as a person on my entirely too short trip. The most important thing I learned had to do with relationships. The first time you ever found yourself in an unfortunate situation at home you likely knew with almost certainty that you could call someone to come help. If you were far from home, you could likely communicate with a stranger to help you. When you're in another country where you don't know even know the word for help, you realize the roles people play in your life. There are some old friends you've stayed in contact with for years that you wouldn't want with you, but people you've known for mere days that would unquestionably have your back in a sticky situation.

#2 - Never take your friends and family for granted. - I'll put it this way. When you find yourself unexpectedly and suddenly unemployed, your friends, your siblings, and your parents will know exactly what to say. Some corny jokes, some venting, good advice, and a roof to sleep under are more than enough sometimes. Your friends and family will be there for you when you need them. It's your job to get back at it so you can be there for them when they need you.

#3 - Get a dog. - I really don't feel like this needs much explaining. When you feel sad, your dog will cheer you up. When you really just want to lay down and cuddle with something, your dog will tolerate you. When you feel like you're pretty much worthless, your dog needs you to feed it, water it, and take it for runs.

#4 - When you find a man worth power-walking for - jog. - I won't delve into my past relationships or my current one. I'll just say this. Last year's advice was great. Being single is pretty awesome. You have no one to think about but you and your four-legged friend - and your dog will forgive you for anything. You go where you want when you want with who you want and you do what you want. It's awesome. Then someone comes along and they make you want to become a better person. Suddenly, you have another two-legged friend that's always there for you. Whether you think you need it or not. Moral of the story is; first, make sure he's worth it. Second; Make sure you're not just being blind and stupid - do this by introducing him to friends and family and then asking them, "can I keep it, or do I need to throw it back?" If they tell you something along the lines of "dogs are better than men," do the hard but inevitable thing and dump him before you get to attached. But if they say you can keep him, well, any man worth keeping is worth delivering the world on a silver platter for.

#5 - If you don't know anything else about who you are, know the purpose you want to serve. - When you find yourself on an adventure most would kill to have the courage to go on, and you feel empty about it, it's nice to know why. Fortunately, for me, it didn't take much to figure it out. I've always known what purpose I want to serve in the world, I just thought I could ignore it and have a little fun for a while without it tugging me back. Unfortunately for me, I'm not allowed to pursue that specific meaningful purpose in my life for another seven months and eight days (no, I'm not counting. Why do you ask?). Is it torture, sitting here waiting around for that day to arrive? Yes. But I can only imagine what my mental state would look like if I didn't have a clue what I was looking for in life. Luckily for me, there are things everywhere that remind me of the purpose I want to serve. I know exactly how to arrive at that goal, it's only a matter of time.

While you're thinking about your New Years resolutions and the kind of person you want to become, stop for a few minutes and think about the person you were this same time last year. Think about the lessons you've learned and the things that have made you the person you are. Losing 10 pounds probably won't change your life drastically, but deciding how to make the change from the person you are to the person you want to become, and actually acting on it? That will change your life for the better.

Women in Combat Arms

I've been sitting at home the last few weeks with little more to do than workout, read, clean, and play video games. So entirely too much of my attention has been turned toward facebook. I'm not proud of it, but it is what it is. The recent hub-ub on facebook is all about women going into combat arms. While I've never been in combat arms or even the military, I'm still going to chime in on this. Because it's my blog and I'll do what I want on my blog. You don't have to read it.

Firstly, a huge majority of the complaints about this on facebook have been coming from my male military friends saying how the dynamics of their units will have to change. They won't be able to be as harsh, vulgar, and crude as they're used to for fear of SHARP (basically sexual harassment) complaints. I have one thing to say to that. GET OVER IT. The decision has already been made and just like every other stupid rule the military has come up with, you're just going to have to make the best of it. You have had the privilege of working in what is likely the ONLY job (or genre of jobs) in the United States where you don't have to worry about offending a thin skinned female. Everyone else in recent history has had to deal with that. And you know what? I am genuinely sorry. I've had the privilege of observing some of you in your unnatural, womanless environment and I think it's absolutely hilarious. Of course, my sense of humor is completely off-color and is 100% of the reason I have a first-class ticket to hell when I die, and I'm not even the infantry type. Most of the women who want to go into combat arms have something to prove. These aren't the women who joined the military because they want to marry a man in uniform, they're probably the women who like watching things explode, curse at least as much as you do, and are probably not going to bitch and moan much more than you when they have to go without a shower while they're in the field. They won't even be able to sign up for combat arms MOSs until January (if the timeline doesn't change), then they have to either reclass or go to basic and AIT, or OSUT, depending on the job. So realistically, you have until at least March or April to get your head around this. Honestly though, I can imagine how much that's going to change the dynamics of your units and for those of you hard nosing this, it's going to suck. But this is the real world, and the real world has to deal with women... Unless you live in a Muslim community that actively practices Pashtunwali and Namus. And from what I know, exactly zero of you are all about that.

The second huge complaint I'm seeing is how women are scientifically not as physically capable as most men. I've also seen a photo floating around of a small unit doing a ruck march where two of the men are carrying a woman's rucks for her. There's two problems here. First, the attrition rate for someone actually going through SFAS and SFQC to become a Green Beret is said to be about 95%. That means most MEN aren't capable of doing this job. Hell, even if a man makes it through all the physical challenges, they can still not be selected because the instructors have determined they wouldn't be a good fit for the unit. If a woman is held to the same standard as the men in these courses, and is determined to be a good fit for the unit, then I see no reason why they shouldn't be allowed to serve in those roles. And if you've had your head in anywhere that's not the sand you might realize that women have been serving in "support" roles with SF and SOF units for several years. And that's not including the women who where a part of Delta long before the Cultural Support Teams began. If you don't believe me, read Ashley's War by Gayle Lemmon.

Now to address the photo. Whoever the hell thinks it's ok to have anyone carry anyone else's ruck during any form of training is wrong. Someone suggested the woman in the photo may have been on profile. It's my civilian opinion, that if you're on profile (meaning you have a medical note preventing you from doing a portion of the training), you shouldn't be doing the training to begin with. And if you're not on profile, don't be a bitch and carry your own ruck. And men, honestly, if there's someone in your unit, male or female, who will fail if they have to carry their own ruck, LET THEM FAIL. No one wants someone on their team who isn't capable of pulling their own weight and doing their job. We are currently at war and anyone who can't or won't pass the tests is a liability on the battlefield and may get you killed. I know that with the shape I'm in right now I wouldn't be able to even think about holding a ranger pace with a ruck on. Hell, I probably couldn't even do it without one. 98% of the SF, SOF, Infantry, Scouts, and other combat arms men I've met are total beasts. But that means that if I were ever going to try it, I would make sure I could do it and then some before I went.


Now that I've had a word with the men of combat arms, I'd like to have a word with the women. I'm certain a large majority of the women who want to go into combat arms are going to take this next piece as a no-brainer, but I'm going to say it anyway. The military is a man's world. Combat arms is even more of a man's world. Now I'm not saying to let go of serious sexual harassment complaints, and there is no world in which a woman should not report a rape; but if you walk into a combat arms unit and can't take a little rape joke, you seriously need to reconsider the dynamic of the unit you're considering joining. Vulgar, inappropriate and even rape jokes are a pretty regular thing tossed around in these kinds of unit and if you can't laugh at them, get up and leave the room. Filing a complaint because of a joke and ruining the career of one of your teammates is not the way to go. The women who will be going into combat arms in the next year or two are going to be considered pioneers and will set the standard for all other women who follow. Women in the military today already know, or should know (especially new Lieutenants), they have to prove themselves. In support jobs where your job doesn't get any more physical than morning PT, it's probably ok if you don't make above a 270 on the PT test. But if you're going into combat arms where the average PT score is a 281, do not give anyone the satisfaction of being able to say you're the reason the average is 281 instead of 282. Beat the average. You have something to prove and an example to set. So do it.

And anyone who is of the mindset that women should serve in combat arms but shouldn't have to sign up for the draft can excuse themselves from any sort of argument about equality. We are currently an all-volunteer military and likely will be for the very distant future, but with tensions between Turkey and Russia being what they are, who knows? It's my personal opinion that women should have had to sign up for the draft before they were allowed into combat arms. But I don't make the rules.

Syrian Refugees

Everyone is in an uproar about this Syrian refugee "crisis." Normally, I don't chime in on these types of things too much, but here goes my .02. Begin rant.

I don't rely heavily on my facebook feed for a place to get valuable, accurate information about what's going on in the world, but it does give me a pretty accurate representation about how my friends feel about topics like this.. At least until I unfollow them. I'm honestly probably only following about half of my friends list (and that's a generous estimate). I've been seeing two sides of facebook propaganda the last couple of weeks. The far right side says we don't need to allow refugees, and if we do, go with Donald Trump's suggestion of making Muslims carry a special ID that shows their faith because they could be terrorists. People of America, may I introduce, Hitler with his new and improved, unkempt toupee'?  While we're making them carry special IDs and putting patches on their shoulders, why don't we just skip a few steps and start incinerating them? Honestly, how does that not sound like the beginning of the Holocaust?

Hitler similarities aside, Donald Trump may be an excellent businessman, but business politics are nothing close to world politics. In business, you can lose your temper, scream "you're fired," and basically ignore anyone you don't like. You can't ignore Russia, people; and you can't bully them into any position you want. If Trump and Putin got into it, as much as I hate to say it, that's a war game Putin would win. Trump has straight up said he knows more than our Generals. I'm pretty sure that's another place Hitler went wrong. There's also this thing called the United Nations where we have a permanent seat with veto power! Trump, if elected, may discover that playing games with the stock market is not the same as running a nation. And while the United States President may be considered the most powerful man in the world, he doesn't rule the world, and there are still rules he has to follow. But I digress, this isn't about Trump...

The second half of that argument was that refugees might be terrorists. That's ignorant, people. Of course some of them are terrorists. Are all of them? No. In fact, a great majority of them aren't terrorists. And the terrorists that might be kept out by not being in allowed in as refugees would find another way in. Honestly, does no one remember 9/11? Did no one read about how the attackers in Paris all had passports? One of them even had a French passport! If terrorists want in, they'll get in. Does being a refugee make it easier to get here? Yes, but it makes it harder for them to hide here. Which is their ultimate goal. And while most of the refugees coming here wouldn't be outright terrorists, or even Muslims for that matter - I know, it's hard to believe someone from the Middle East could belong to a religion other than Islam, but Syria practically encompasses Lebanon, a State that's been ruled by both Christians and Muslims since it's inception. - a majority of them would be Muslims. And when a large population of one religion or nationality or even region is moved en-mass to another place in the world, they will band together. That's why we have neighborhoods in the United States that are comprised almost solely of Hispanics, or Russians, or Africans. It's simple psychology and sociology. Those who would have only been considered lip-service Muslims will find familiarity in their local Mosque. It will be the only place that feels like home in a world of white men who are nothing but suspicious of them. If that mosque happens to be one that preaches to the more extreme side of Islam, you're bound to breed a few terrorists.

The other side of the news feed propaganda I've been seeing is the whole "we were refugees too. We're all immigrants" blah blah bullshit. Allow me to give you all a history lesson. The United States did not begin as a place for people to escape to. For many, that may have been how it was, but people came here to settle a new land. In the beginning, this land was still owned by the English and the people who came to settle here were coming here to settle in a land where they had to fight the Indians, win, and start a family and worship in their own way. Fast forward a little and you have the Revolutionary War. This is the part you should pay attention to. When the government was imposing unfair taxes, the thirteen colonies revolted and started a war that won them their independence. In Syria you have president Bashar Al-Assad who was never meant to be president. He was an ophthalmologist in London for crying out loud! BUT! For ten years (beginning in 2001) he returned to Syria as his familial duty when his father and older brother died rather unexpectedly (whatever anyone tells you, Syria isn't a Democracy. It's "officially" a Republic and unofficially a monarchy) and ruled with a gentle hand, slowly implementing more western policies so as not to upset those in power who liked things "the old way." In 2011 when the Arab Spring began, things went to shit. Instead of the Syrian people stopping to think about it and saying, "hey, we've got a President here who is trying to make things better for us," they hopped on the Arab Spring bandwagon and got a little out of hand. I'm not in any way condoning how Assad gassed his people, nor the civil war he's been engaged in, but I can see where he's coming from. Most people in Syria don't understand their own politics (neither do most Americans for that matter); but if you put yourself in Assad's shoes all you can really say is, "Dude, I've been here for ten years and I've been giving you ungrateful assholes as much as I can as fast as I can. Believe it or not, my hands are tied. How do you think my dad and brother died? Now you want to revolt? Fine! We'll just go back to the way my dad used to handle things!" The Syrian people, while they didn't have all the liberties they wanted, were too blind to realize they were being given those liberties about as fast as they could come. It took until 1920 for women to be able to vote in the U.S.. That's 144 years in a state founded on Christian values and equal rights. You think you'll get it any time soon in a nation founded on Islam and Sharia law?! Baby steps, people.

The Syrian people had the gall to start a civil war, but lack the fortitude to finish one. This is a population which has solved a majority of their issues with violence. They were getting their desired changes through diplomacy and started a war anyway. Now they're running. Even if it was only the women and children coming to the United States as refugees, you just took away the Syrian Army's main reason to fight for their own independence. I'll preface this next statement by admitting that I am not a veteran. (I'm trying to join the military, but I have to wait another year before I'll be allowed in for medical reasons) However, I'm pretty sure most of our current military, particularly those who joined shortly after 9/11, did so so they could protect their homeland. So they could make sure their loved ones would continue to sleep soundly at night. They went off to war so the women and children in their nation never had to witness the violence they brought to the doorstep of our enemies. One might argue that there's not been a war fought among our homes since the Civil War like there is in Syria right now. To that I say, shouldn't they be MORE motivated to fight?! If there were a war being fought among our homes every redneck in the nation (man, woman, and probably youth) would be wearing mossy oak with an American flag sewn on their shoulder lugging around their bow, shotgun, pistol, and any other weapon they could find. If we're doing anything for the Syrian people by taking in their refugees, we're taking away their motivation to fight. And as an American, I don't necessarily care to harbor cowards who haven't the gall to fight for themselves.

End rant.

I'll Have A Day On The Rocks, Please.

In my last post, I mentioned that I'd taken up rock climbing since I moved to Colorado, but I didn't really say anything else about it. That's because I'm basically in love with rock climbing and it deserves its very own post.

You may remember when I went to AZ with Leo, he took me on my first rock climbing adventure. My second climbing venture happened on my trip to Italy. While I was there I met a complete stranger off of tinder who offered to take me climbing. Of course, everyone in Italy then was a complete stranger. But this one was an American stationed in Vicenza. So I met him at the train station with my shoes, a beaner, my ATC, and enough webbing to make a harness (because that's all the rock climbing gear I took on my backpacking trip), jumped in his car, and let him drive me to a whole other city half an hour away. Yes, I recognize the safety concerns involved in this endeavor, but you know what? I'm still here. And I got to go rock climbing. And I made an awesome friend that day! Paul, who I still talk to, took me to Lugminano and explained how it had been one of the biggest rock climbing places in Italy back in the 80's. It was probably a class 3 hike in, but there were soooo many routes! Paul didn't know what the names of the routes were, or what they were graded at (they use a different grading system in Europe than we do here in the states, anyway) but it was fun!

Climbing in Lugminano, Italy. Paul let me borrow his harness!

That day I basically decided when I came back to the states I was going to go learn to climb somewhere.. I initially thought I was going to buy a beat up old van or something and drive it to red rocks just outside of Vegas and just camp out and climb for a few months. Obviously, that's not what happened. And I'm glad it didn't. I really like frequent showers.

When I moved most of my things up here to Colorado in May, I wasted exactly zero time. I was only here for a week before I was to start my road trip to the North East, pretty much only owned what I'd had in Italy plus a harness (climbing in a Swiss seat made from webbing is never fun), I had no idea what I was actually doing, didn't know anyone in the area who climbed, and I had a severely pulled bicep tendon that was still healing. None of those seemed like good reasons to not go climbing. It took me all of two days in Colorado before I found a random person on facebook with enough experience to teach myself and my new roommate the climbing basics. Again, I met two complete stranger in a parking lot at some ungodly early hour and drove off into the mountains with them. Except this time with my roommate. I have yet to regret a spontaneous adventure, and I'm quite glad I took this one.

My roommate and I, climbing at Clear Creek.

I learned the basics of climbing that day, and since I got back from my road trip, I've gone on several climbing ventures. In the last two months I've gone from someone who didn't know what cleaning was to climbing a multi-pitch called "Lost in the Jungle," leading and cleaning routes up to 5.9s, and just last week I climbed a 5.10C called "Via Comatose Amigo." To say that I'm in love with this sport would be putting it mildly. My goal is to be able to lead a 5.11 by the end of the year, and perhaps one day do a climbing competition. Which makes me wonder why I'm sitting on my couch right now instead of climbing... I should do something about that.

Making my way up Via Comatose Amigo - A 5.10C

Since I've Been Gone..

Ok, so it's been a few minutes since my last post, so here's what's been happening. I came back to the states, took up photography, bought an old beat up VW Passat wagon, drove it around the northeast for a month, went to the West Point graduation, did New York City up right, ate at the Chegg on Long Beach Island in New Jersey with my body builder buddies, hiked on the Appalachian Trail, moved to Denver, CO, somehow got a part-time job as a mechanic, a full-time job as a police Dispatcher, and have taken up rock climbing. It's been an adventure to say the least. Here's the highlights...

When I graduated high school, I applied to West Point. Like so many others, I wasn't offered an appointment. I was, however, offered a scholarship from West Point's Association of Graduates to attend Marion Military Institute for a year. If I performed well there, I was all but guaranteed an appointment to West Point the following year. While I was at MMI, I decided West Point wasn't the route I wanted to take to get my commission, but I made some awesome friends - many of whom went on to graduate West Point in May. I was fortunate enough to be invited to stay with Lt. Col. Charles Faint and his family on base during graduation week. I really can't say enough about what awesome hosts they were. Or how nice it was to be on base instead of having to drive there every day. And having Charlie and his wife Lilla give me directions so I didn't wind up completely and utterly lost.

West Point Graduation Parade

The graduation was, well, a military graduation. Efficient. General Dempsey was the honored speaker, and he sang (and made the graduates sing) "New York, New York." Aside from his little Sinatra piece, the General actually laid out some real words of wisdom. I'd love to have lunch with that man.

My roommate from MMI, Chelsea Kay graduated that day, and was commissioned by none other than the Superintendent, General Robert Caslen. How she got the Sup to pin her, I don't know, but she did. It was really cool to get to attend her commissioning in the Sup's garden, away from the hustle and bustle of the rest of the school. It also gave me a kick in the ass. I didn't attend West Point, but I finished college and did my short stint of travels. And here was Kay, kicking my ass and getting her commission first. So now I have no choice but to get mine and catch up with her.

Chelsey Kay, the new butter bar

After I saw Kay off, I made a B-line for New York City. As fate would have it, I discovered that I wasn't the only old cadet from MMI who attended the graduation and was spending the next couple of days in the Big Apple. My old platoon leader from MMI, Roderick Bonner was also in town. We spent the next day sight seeing and tasting all the local cuisines... And by the local cuisines, what I really mean is hot dogs from street carts and the occasional piece of pizza.

The 9-11 memorial on Memorial Day

After NYC, my plans to see a friend in upstate fell through when he had to skip town for work. So I spent a night in the Catskills camping out of my car and hiking. As uneventful as a story as this is, I mostly just want a reason to post this picture..

The sunset where I camped.

My next stop was New Jersey. I was genuinely surprised when not one single gas station I pulled up to was self-serve. Apparently, there's a law in Jersey against people pumping their own gas. No, seriously. Every gas station has attendants to pump your gas for you... I spent the next few days trying to find a balance between not eating too much, and looking like a bird at every meal... Meals, of course, where every few hours. Because I was with Pat the body builder and his body builder buddies. Who only stop eating to work out and sleep. I ate with them, I worked out with them (although we pretended not to know each other in the gym. I'm not leg pressing any cars anytime soon), and I slept in Pat's house. And Pat made sure I got to do the tourist stuff like buy a lighter from Ron Jon's, check out the famous people's houses, and drive the length of Long Beach Island. He's a pretty cool guy when he's not busy trying to date my sister.

The traditional beach pic.

Pat on his third round of wings at the Chegg.

The next stop I made really should have a post all its own, but for the sake of catching up, I'm just going to give it this short piece. That, and I really want to go to sleep.

Becky Lessner and I have been best friends since we both ran on the Point Park Cross Country team in 2012. We decided while I was still in Spain that we were going to do part of the Appalachian Trail. Becky wanted to do the portion up in Maine, but we really didn't have the time to get up there and back, so we opted for a piece out of the middle of the trail. On the first of June we bailed out of our beds at the hostel in Harper's Ferry and got ready to go. It was raining, but we were super prepared. We donned our rain jackets and set out into the 75 degree morning. It was uncharacteristically cold considering it had been well over 80 for the last couple of weeks. We made it about an hour before we realized the temperature wasn't getting higher - it was only getting lower. I'd packed for this trip almost three weeks ago, and I certainly wasn't prepared for this. I had a single pair of pants, a pair of shorts, two shirts, and a rain jacket I'd borrowed from Becky. About twelve miles in we made it to a cabin for hikers and started getting comfortable. We'd taken our hammocks to sleep in and no sleepingbags because, well, it was supposed to be in the 80's and 90's and only getting down to 70 at night. The temperature kept dropping and I was tired of being cold and wet. One of the other hikers on the trail (Over Forty was his trail name), exasperated, expressed how he wished we could start a fire in the furnace in the cabin. "Furnace?! Fire?!" My posture perked like a dog being told to sit for its favorite treat. "Yeah," Over Forty said, "there's a furnace in here, but there's no dry wood." I made my way into the cabin and snatched three dry pieces of wood out of the pile. "Y'all go get wood. We're making a fire." Everybody started bringing me wood. Small stuff at first, and then bigger pieces. One of the fellows there just kept repeating how we would never get a fire going because the wood was too wet. He quit bringing in wood after his second time out, complaining that he was cold. With a paper towel, a couple of dry sticks, and going light headed from blowing on the flames so much, I kept our furnace hot until three in the morning. Over Forty officially named me Draco Fire Starter. So there's one more nickname I have to keep up with. Becky and I ditched our hammocks and took a bunk in the cabin. Around four in the morning we were both freezing our asses off in shorts, all of our t-shirts, our rain jackets, and our hammocks and my microfiber towel for blankets. When you're cold and water logged, even the extra body heat from spooning doesn't keep you warm enough to sleep. We both threw in the towel like the pansies we are, stuffed breakfast down our throats, gave our extra food to the other hikers, and headed back towards Harper's Ferry.

Just after the rain let up.

We were certain velociraptors were going to jump out at any moment.

This is as clear as the weather got for us.

After we finished on the trail, I made a B-line for Nashville to crash at my sister's house. I hadn't slept at all in the cabin, had walked well over twenty-four miles in the mountains in the last two days, and drove eight more hours to make it to Nashville. I don't even remember if I saw my niece and nephew off to bed. All I really remember is that I forced myself to take a shower before I drug myself to my bed. Then I got up ungodly early and drove another eight hours back to Arkansas to gather the rest of my belongings, change my oil, and move to Denver.