Road Rage on Paper

I am not a road rager. I come from a family of fast drivers, lead-footers, and at least one family member (side-eye to you there, Dad) that has threatened to mount and RPG launcher onto the hood of the car. I married someone who is increasing impatient with left-lane drivers,  non-turn-signal-users, etc. However, I am not a road rager. Now, I won't say that I'm not above mentally commenting on the character of other drivers (Chris, you know what I'm talking about here) when they do something particularly moronic, but I don't generally act on my five-dollar-word descriptions.

Except maybe last Monday.

Move Yer A$$...

The weekend before July 4 was a movin' and groovin' one, that's for sure. I was up at 5am on Saturday morning, and out the door to climb the Incline. Sometimes you just know it's going to be a good day. I only had to make three catch-your-breath stops and PRed both up and down. Nice.

Headed to the farmer's market and then home to shower, change, and then Eric and I headed up to Denver to help a friend move.

The real action, however, was Sunday. Eric learned that Cripple Creek, a town about 2 hours away in the mountains, had what was called the "Donkey Derby Days" festival. Now, we're down for about anything called a festival, and have, in our past, attended such events as Apple Fest, Johnny Appleseed Fest (yes, different than apple fest), the Pickle Festival, Grabill Days, Greek Fest, River Fest, German Fest, the Peach Festival... well, you get the idea. Cripple Creek is an old mining town turned gambling hall town, with its own herd of semi-wild donkeys. These donkeys roam the streets of Cripple Creek, and are supposedly the descendants of donkeys used in the mines (which, by the way, is a horrible existence for donkeys!) People feed them, and they wander around at will. There's even a hotline you can call for the last known location of the donkeys. Anyway, Cripple Creek has a Donkey Derby Days festival, the funds from which go to support the ongoing care and occasional feeding of the donkeys (trust me though, they never go hungry.)

Wrong-Handed

I am left-handed. I am not the only left-handed person out there, but only about 10% of the population is left-handed, and we lefties live in a right-handed world.

I was born left-handed, but as recently as my dad's childhood (my dad is also left-handed) in the United States and today in some countries around the world, institutions would try to insist that lefties use their right hand, that people should deny that their dominant hand was counter to 90% of the rest of society's, and should learn to accept right-handedness.

Social Food Snark

Last weekend, we went out to dinner prior to the U2 concert in downtown Denver.

Here's the deal: we like to eat. We like good food. We like innovative and creative recipes. And, despite ALL my food weirdness with not eating badly raised/fed/cared for/processed animals and a general eschewing of eating chemicals and other things that can kill you, we don't consider ourselves overly stuffy when it comes to food. I read the menus and I make decisions. I don't ask the server where the food was sourced from, whether sustainable practices were used, or, as Eric would say, if the animal was hugged on a regular basis. I like reading these things on a menu and appreciate them when they are listed, but I find it kind of rude and pretentious to ask if its not there.

Personally Epic Weekend

Warning: This was an epic weekend where a lot happened and I am all amped about it. This will be a long post.

Have I mentioned that I have trouble doing just one thing at a time? Yea... well, sometimes that leads to a culmination of awesomeness. At least to me - you might not think this is awesome, but, then again, I don't know that there are that many people that share my opinion anyway!

FAQs on Storm Chasing, From a Spouse Perspective

Middle of nowhere South Dakota

Eric and his buddy, Keith, left yesterday for their annual "Chasecation," a storm-chasing adventure in which they will put an inordinate amount of miles on HailNo, spend lots of time looking a open fields, all with the goal of seeing some great storms. No, they don't know where they are going, and yes, I assume the interior of the Subi will smell bad when they return. Fortunately for the former, both are adept at reading radar, have the car wired to be able to receive instant radar updates, and have a high-power road mapping system that provides not only highway directions, but lesser known roads and trails as well.

Eric gets really excited about chasing, and posts his photos on Facebook. This inevitably attracts a wide variety of questions and comments, that, since Eric probably won't, I would like to take the opportunity to address in my own, slightly snarky and sarcastic manner.

Warning: If you are easily offended, don't read on, especially if you made one of these comments. For the rest of you, just assume I like you and this isn't personal.

That Anxious Feeling...

Post-race messiness

So, I'm not going to lie; I'm sitting here at work, and I shouldn't be on my blog, but I had to write this down to hopefully help with the anxiety I am currently feeling. I was sitting here, working away, when someone walked by with a banana. That's when I realized...

Somewhere in my house, there is a banana.