It's raining stars

While watching my allotment of tv tonight, I was given a not too subtle reminder that the Geminid meteors would be available for viewing this evening. It's nice to be able to see them from the comfort of your living room chair, but I just went out to the landing for a bigger section of sky. Found about thirteen, plus one silent, bonus owl. Some times it's fun to be an insomniac.

(Meteor count update: about thirty before finally nodding off, with the last three viewed from bed)

Winter tan lines

First non-commuting ride since Carter Lake. Things are a bit puddly out there. Thanks to my teammates who did their best to shield me from the wind and prevent me from heading further east than planned. My knees feel abused and my big toes took a while to come back to life, but it was worth it just to get outside. No more snow pants, for now.

Cookie overload

I guess this is just the season for excessive baking. Two cookie parties/orgies in a week required the following:

Many, many nutmeg logs.

Jewel-like thumbprints. Red currant jelly is tasty.

Yes, I have a food processor, but using the chopper is so much more satisfying.

Cowboy cookies with sunlight.

Espresso chocolate chunk shortbread, with their secret ingredient. These are worth baking just for the incredible aroma that fills the kitchen.

All but the last come from Farmhouse Cookbook and the shortbread is from the infallible Smitten Kitchen. I am happy to report that, after taking the leftovers to the office, I'm down to just a handful of them left in my house. Guess I'll have to find something else for breakfast.

I shouldn't be enjoying this, but...

There must be something wrong with me. I'm having fun with this cold thing. I now like wearing a minimum of two pairs of pants, especially if one of them is a pair of snow pants. Love that zip-zop sound. I like walking (or running) to the bus in the morning. Monday night I ran two laps in snowshoes for the inaugural CASCAR race, finishing just ahead of the boys on skis, and that was even after the mandatory Wild Turkey shot. I feel like going for a late night hike. Maybe it's just a passing phase.

Fox tracks made by the big, fluffy beast who walked past our office this morning.

A bit nippy

I have now accepted the arrival of winter. Layers of pants are OK with me. Still, not much to do today other than clean house, bake, and eventually venture out to see just how cold it was. Very.

I managed to drag the bike out to go watch the cross race that I had been viewing from my kitchen window. Those guys are dedicated/insane (think beardsicles). No photos. The trip to the market netted sightings of a mega-gaggle of confused canada geese, a small herd of deer stripping the shrubs in somebody's yard and Sid, the neighborhood red-tailed hawk. No photos then, either. Instead, enjoy these pretty, airborne lanterns, courtesy of the BBC. Wish I could have been there.

Multi-layer snowpants ninja weather

Dear New England:

Give us our weather back. Please. Your high temp Thursday: 65. Ours: 16. Clearly there's been a mistake.

At least I got to take the snow bike out today, though it's no guarantee against fishtailing in deep slush. Sorry to the car that was behind me.

I am thankful for the desert

Each time I go, I always say the same thing to myself on the way out: Utah desert is so freakin' cool. Why am I not out here more often? Time. Never have enough of it to myself. I went east for Thanksgiving last year, but this time I took my few free days to go west. It was hard to justify leaving the 60 degrees at home to go sleep out in the brisk, night air where 20 degrees was wishful thinking, but I said, if it wasn't snowing, I was going. Good choice.

Being out there makes me happy. You can haul all of your worries, self-doubt, and stupid, interpersonal crap out to the desert, and pretty soon you're reminded that it doesn't mean squat. At least that's what happens to me, if I'm lucky. You're surrounded by rocks that are way older than anyone you know, any thing you know, and you watch them wear away, grain by grain.

You can stare up into the clear night sky and gaze at the Milky Way, the few constellations you recognize, and, at least on Thursday night, the space shuttle hot on the tail of the ISS (that was really weird, till I realized what it was). You worry about bringing enough water, even in the late fall, for your hike. You worry about your toes never warming up while you sleep. You concentrate on only climbing up the things you'll be able to get down later on. Your brain tackles the basics and puts aside the rest.

Admittedly, it's only a temporary reprieve. Eventually, I always have to get back to the world of ringing cell phones (not mine), lousy drivers, deadlines, and all the other less pleasant details that make up my reality. But, once in a while, for just a couple of days, there's rocks, a couple ravens and peace.

More images and extraneous commentary:

Just 170 million years too late for the beach

A sudden craving for layer cake...

There were only three other cars at the trailhead when I started up the canyon. I didn't see another soul till I sat down for lunch at the turn around point. Fortunately the crowds and their offspring who showed up later didn't venture too far from the cars.

I named campsite #4 Nose Canyon, partly for the above specimens, and partly for my persistent head cold.

Standing on this ridge, I wound up in a flock of small birds that was passing by. I've never been surrounded by birds in flight at eye-level. It was neat.

The Narrows at Little Wild Horse Canyon

Lizards live here. I only saw one live one, and he was super fast. The not-live one that had (probably) been flattened under a cairn while sleeping was not.

I went into Hanksville, looking for a rock shop and a guy who might tell me where some geodes could be found, but I was unable to locate the shop (I've since learned the owner has passed away). I was able to find a gas station so lonely that every sound I made echoed under the awning. I don't think there was even an attendant present. Fortunately, I then stumbled onto salvation in the form of Stan's Burger Shak. Since this has been my week of meats (it starts with the prosciutto in the soup, then comes the yearly sausage stuffing...), I didn't hesitate to finish it off with a meat with extra meat sandwich, a chicken club. And I know that as a dairy-averse person, I should have avoided all contact what's in the image above, but the sign said the milkshakes were famous! And they came in so many flavors! How could I resist? My normal, Chex Mix-free diet resumed after I put the car in the garage.

Thanks to Elliot, friend of the Gooneys, whose slide show inspired the destination of this trip.

Early morning

Not sure why I got up before the sun this morning, but I'm kind of glad I did. Friday night was Redcoat's 31st, so, after a brief but worthy hour at the velodrome, 20+ of us met up at the Gold Hill Inn for six courses, many bottles of wine and beer, and some music and dancing. The late night bus ride back down into town offered spectacular views of the stars above and the lights of the Front Range down below. I got home in the earliest hour of morning, but still found myself wide awake before six. Maybe I just had to see this.

Pizza crust fail (again)

Well, it's pretty when I pull it out of the oven. It's roasted delicata, apples and caramelized onions on a sage-walnut pesto with a little sharp cheddar and parmesan thrown in for good measure, and half of it's already devoured.

But the crust. I didn't even try to make my own dough this time (Lucky's has dough to go), I cranked up the oven to 500 and put it on a lowish rack. I don't have a pizza stone and I did kind of drench the dough with the oily pesto for a few minutes before I could get the rest of the layers on, and so I have barely cooked crust once you get past the toasty-looking edge. Ick. I guess I should be grateful it's edible and isn't stuck to the pan. Walt, make sure I'm there the next time you make your magic, perfect pizzas.

Matinee weekend

Cold and kind of snowy means the bikes stay home, since I'm kind of lazy about cleaning them. It's also a good time to take in a movie or two for less than the exorbitant evening rate and I caught both An Education and Where the Wild Things Are at the early showings. The first one I'd been looking forward to seeing for a couple months and it was a satisfying British period piece with an impressive cast and great costumes. The second one I'd been somewhat hesitant about, since I'm skeptical of all book adaptations, and especially of adaptations of classic children's books. Visually, it was pretty amazing and, in the end, quite moving. The walk back across town to the bus took me past the chocolate shop where I felt compelled to pause and continue my unproductive day. The cup looks deceptively small, but this is chocolate soup and you really wouldn't want a drop more. Trust me.

Friday night dinner of champions

Or at least dinner of someone who's been around the track at the velodrome a few times tonight. Nick put us through a workout: pace line, weaving and all sorts of crazy stuff. It was excellent. Had just enough energy left to throw together home-made creamy tomato soup (there goes half of this year's tomatoes) and grilled cheese and a can of something that will cancel out any further plans for the evening. Hulu here I come...

Clearing out the cobwebs

I feel penned in a lot. Very little freedom of movement when you're stuck behind a desk 45 hours a week. The llamas get way more daylight playtime than me. Sometimes it's just too much.

When I need to sort out the stuff that's been cluttering up my head, when I need to find a place to dump the destructive thoughts and let go of the ones that are dragging me where I really don't want to be, I have to just go. Doesn't hurt that the sun was shining.

Circles

I often feel like certain parts of my life are playing on a continuous loop, but Friday night there was actually a reason. The Waltworks Dreamteam hit the velodrome after work. For most of us, it was our first time on an indoor track with a 45 degree angle built in to it, and for some (me), the first time on a track bike. That would be a bike with one gear and no hand brakes.

I have to admit, it was kind of fun, even if I couldn't manage to stay on the tail of the paceline and added a few bonus laps trying to decide how and when to stop. I even got talked into showing up for the next six weeks for more training. It can only help, so long as I don't end up with splinters. Thanks to RC and Nick for setting it all up. At least now I can say I have something to do on a Friday night!

Thanks to Chris for the screaming photo of Fuentes that we've all borrowed for our respective blogs. Hopefully Megan's camera can be revived and we'll have more.

Fall/winter/summer

This would be a pretty, mid-winter sunrise...if it didn't happen in late October. Oh, well. Today was a no jacket day and in two days we'll be back in sandal weather. Kind of sad to be stuck inside the office during this reprieve, especially now that it's dark before I can head home, There's always the weekend.

Another holiday come and gone

Not sure why I always wait till the last minute. I had a costume idea over a year ago and even bought the dress two years ago. Most of what's below happened between Wednesday and Saturday at 8:45 pm.

When I was in Ireland two years ago, I bought a card with this neat raven design on it:


On the back was a description of the Morrigan, a Celtic mythological figure who was associated with death and prophecy, who could appear as a raven or as three separate people. I also found crow sisters in The Onion Girl, which I read a while back (an OK, but not memorable, book).

I've been something death-related for the last couple of years, but crows and ravens are some of my favorite birds (convenient since they are somewhat ubiquitous around here) and I already had a bird costume. To save a little labor, I decided to sacrifice the dove head made for the Procession of the Species in Olympia and build the crow head right on top of it.

The dove was made from newspaper and flour paste on a cardboard frame, with a few staples and strips of duct tape. The crow would be made from paper tape and more newspaper, with a finishing layer of thin brown wrapping paper and a watery glue. This technique comes from Emma in Jamestown whose work is amazing and whose paper sculpture class I took years ago. I only saw on Friday that she had been commissioned to do a large-scale crow/raven and that helped a bunch with the beak details.

After the first layer, you can still see the dove's eye through the crow eye (these were made from the plastic containers that come around the toys in the machines by the grocery store registers). This was late, late Friday night, with Buffy the Vampire Slayer playing on Hulu in the background.

A little more head-like.

I love being in my house in the late afternoon to enjoy the sunlight, but I didn't intend to be applying the first layers of paint at that hour on Saturday. The glare was kind of annoying.

Not satisfied with the smooth texture, I insisted on adding to my misery by inserting real feathers across the top of the beak. This required several "breaks" to leave the room and prevent additional swearing.

By six o'clock, I still hadn't addressed the issue of my dress, which, as someone's probable former witch outfit, fit pretty well, but had come with horrid poofy sleeves that would never pass for crow. I eventually shredded them and then tried to use the scraps to cover my hair. Fail. Fortunately, I had back up ribbons. These also held down the curling brown paper trim that I never had time to paint the back of.

I was still sitting in the bathroom at eight, wearing the bottom half of the costume (socks and shoes), trimming sleeve material and swearing at duct tape and the poor cat who came to investigate. Didn't have much time for makeup, which I suck at applying, but that just meant I wouldn't have to work too hard at taking it off.

The requisite "self-portrait in the bathroom mirror" shot. I have cropped out the disaster that was my bathroom counter. The first thing I did today was pack away any trace of crow/zombie/Halloween scraps and cart them down to the garage. I was really just ready to be done with it. I wasn't terribly impressed with the costumes at the Devotchka show, though there were a few that seemed like some time and thought had been put into them.

Anyone who played with Lego people will remember removing their hats or hair and sticking other objects to their heads. I definitely remember those flowers, though not what set they were from.

I guess I take this dressing-up thing pretty seriously. Too many times last night I thought "Oh good, another f***ing pirate," as I passed people in the theater. Too many recently deceased celebrities, flying swine, Clockwork Orange boys and people in really big wigs. Marie Antoinette was cool, as were the Dread Pirate Roberts and the Clue crew (though their cards were awkward on the dance floor).

Happily, I think I only saw two versions of Max from Where the Wild Things Are, and one of them left me with the best image of the evening. This Max was older than me, probably old enough to have been a kid when the book was first published. During the rowdy songs, he was living it up, thrusting his scepter in the air, but for the last song of the night, a slow one, he was dancing with his lady friend, Strawberry Shortcake, like there was no one else in the room. Nice picture...

Not sure what I'm going to do for next year. I do love the opportunity to do one creative thing each year, since my work is about as uncreative as you can get, but I stress out for the week leading up to the day I need a costume, then work on it for a stupid number of hours, only to have the night go by in a flash. Kind of like writing a paper for school, but with no grade. Who knows, I could find inspiration in the next twelve months, right? We'll see.

Why are we here again?

Snow days used to mean something...

Today, most of the rest of the metro area students and school staff were home, probably still snug in their beds while I was running for the bus. We had to be different. We had to come to campus. Yippee.

Early snow = snack

Got to go home early today, even though the roads are still just damp around here. I had one snowball on the way to the art store, but they're much better with the traditional New England topping. Yup, frozen water and maple syrup - New Englanders are weird.

Tailwind day/zombie night

The day started with our usual bluebird skies and a warm breeze. I was lucky that my errands took me to the southern reaches of town, because I got to race with the leaves nearly all the way there. I like the sound they make as they skitter down the road. Obviously, the ride back north wasn't quite so pleasant, but it was still a great day to be out.

I made a sort of last-minute decision to join the fourth annual Denver Zombie Crawl in the evening (sometimes it's handy to have a spare zombie outfit and zombie date laying around). I thought the zombie's last day out was last Halloween, but since the occasion asked for zombies in particular, I figured I could haul him out of the garage one more time. Besides, he craves the attention, in addition to brains. The evening did not disappoint.

We lingered by the clock tower on the 16th Street mall, admiring makeup techniques, sampling jello brains and practicing screaming, then it was time to lurch...



The shuttle passengers were a bit startled at first, but then they just started taking pictures of the zombies pawing at the windows.

It was a family affair. Yeah, that's zombie Spiderman over there.

Walking the Mall, even at zombie pace, can be exhausting, so snacks are a good idea.

If you can think of it, it can be zombified. Along with the political set shown above, I saw one of the Teletubbies, Ironman, a slew of pirates, lots of prom dates like myself, Jesus, Bob Ross, several wedding parties, and little kid zombies, too.

My zombie prom date elicited the usual range of reactions, from "Aw, he's cute" to "Holy s**t, what is that thing?" He also had his picture taken a couple dozen times, so it'll be interesting to see where he ends up online. I have no photos of him for now, till I get one from one of my coworkers, who was also in zombie attire tonight.

Aside from the slightly blistered feet, it was a great night and I think I might go again next year. It's fun to find yourself in the middle of a crowd of creative and excited people that really get into the spirit of the event. Best moment of the night? A diner sitting by the window of Johnny Rockets, teasingly waving a french fry at a couple of zombies who leaned over the patio railing and flailed their arms in longing. And the cry of the evening...

"What do we want?"
"Brains!"
"When do we want them?"
"Nnrrgh..."

A taste of childhood

I used to chew on birch twigs as a kid. I think it must be a New England thing.