This just in.

Managed to squeeze out a 4.0 this past semester. Had to brag, since I was seriously skeptical of the MBA class. Dig it.

Tux, 3 and (not) counting

hello hello. Everything worked out wonderfully. I managed to track down D. Robinson on Wednesday afternoon, and he gave me close-enough directions to Erik's house. Turns out that Erik lives right by the university... ironically I was three blocks from his house whilst typing my last entry! Big D is residing there for a few days until some friends return from Christmas vacation, but honestly there seems to be enough space for all of us. Erik started a new relationship three weeks ago, so right now he's in that "hey why sleep at home when I can spend every hour of every day with my new girl?" mode.

We all started out for a ride yesterday morning; Erik, David, two of Erik's teammies and yours truly. I had different plans, however, and opted to stay in the valley instead of climbing Mt. Lemmon with the group. Mt. Lemmon sits just northeast of Tucson, and the newly-paved road climbs 24 miles before topping out around 8500 feet! I dig the climb, but wanted to give my legs another few days of flat riding before straining fibers and tendons in an uphill slug. My day turned out epic enough anyway, since I ended up being 'pimped' by the wind for five hours. I sometimes like to convince myself that God is trying to make me stronger by turning the wind against me... it takes just as much faith as believing the devil is trying to kill me, but is much less pessimistic. The official ride time was 4 hours 58 minutes; a bit longer than I wanted to be out, but my body handled it OK.

More than OK, my body wanted more. I got up at 6:00 this morning (waking pulse 40 bpm) and was pedaling by seven. I cut it 'short' at three hours ride time. If I get a good nap in I might head back out this afternoon, but if the nap isn't superb I'll take it as a sign to rest more. Two years ago, the last time I was here, I remember writing about the crazy Tucson-Time-Dilation. If you don't ride at least four hours, you feel like a sissy. 75-degree weather, a handful of new routes, and a day completely centered around riding.... what excuse is there to ride less than 240 minutes? It's hard to keep the training load in perspective.

Lack of wi-fi at the house gives me an excuse to hit the Fourth Avenue hippie district, again within walking distance of Erik's pad. I'm sitting on a rickety bar stool de'coupaged with Marvel comics, staring out a huge window at the passer-bys in the winter sunshine. I swear Bob Marley just walked by, followed by Anthony Kedis of the Red-Hot-Chili-Peppers and... Dennis Hopper. It's a fun area with about five coffee shops and a Co-Op natural grocer. I'll probably be back down here tomorrow night, too, since PLUSH is hosting some sweet bands in celebration of New Year's Eve. He doesn't think I know, but David's birthday is tomorrow, and Erik and I are scheming something crazy in celebration.

Battery's beeping, good time to cut it off. More to come.

Tux Day One

Blasted in last night, ended up crashing in a hotel just three miles west of Tucson. So much for splitting it up. I always get that way during long drives: sure, sitting in a car for 13 hours sucks, but the idea of stopping at hour eight and having to resume the torture in the morning is, well, torture.

What a mind blower so far. Tucson is the same as it was two years ago, of course, but I am in a completely different place personally. I am sitting at an outdoor table on University Drive, about two blocks from the U of A convention center. I came here first to snag some coffee from a hip little shop I visited before, but to my surprise it’s been torn down with a Starbuck’s erected in its place. Works out for me, viva la corporation, but it’s sad to see the little guys go under.

Thus, I will kill some time until it, ahem, “warms up” and I can head out for my first ride. It’s 7:45am and 53 degrees right now, not too shabby. Elko was glacial yesterday morning when I waved goodbye, but thankfully the conditions cleared about thirty miles into my journey and I had smooth sailing. My Tucson host was not expecting me until today, so I’ll just poke around town until the afternoon when we can rendezvous. During my vagabond months in the VW bus, I learned that time-killing should be finessed and not depended on… I do fine playing tourist for a day, but car-living makes me feel degenerate.

If you have never experienced Tucson, I suggest you escape for a winter weekend one year. Good culture, good weather, and beautiful views. I won’t endorse the summer season, but around New Year’s I prefer no other place in the U.S.

Lots to come. The next 16 days should allow me to ramble on and on and on about all of my activities. Lucky you, I also got a digi-cam (finally) and will figure out how to post pics on PROLIX. First pointless blogs, now pointless pictures too? Have mercy.

Bring It

Bring it on, that is. I'?m up ridiculously early, prepping for the approaching vacation time. Yessir, prepping and trying to wrap up work projects, bills, house duties, and everything else that could potentially unravel in my three-week absence.

It'?s been a great month. First off, let'?s talk about hockey. Kevin'?s birthday was last Friday, and he just happens to have a friend who dates a girl who works for Albertson'?s Corp who... Well, we ended up scoring some hockey tickets and celebrating from suite 307: a swanky mid-rink patio overlooking the Idaho Steelheads arena. Talk about a cool evening. Kevin, his fiance Sarah, Lauren and I swooped into Opa for a pre-game Hot Choco beverage then shuffled over to the arena; soon to be escorted to the suite by aforementioned Trevor.

Lauren had never been to a hockey game before. Heck, listen to me, I'?ve only been to one; though I'?ve watched a few games on TV. During the first brawl I watched her reactions more than I watched the fisticuffs: "?What the hell!? They just let them fight!? Why doesn'?t someone break it up!? What kind of a sport is this!?"? In addition to the big-boy ballet on ice, we also enjoyed listening to Trevor'?s endless supply of personal near-death experiences. At age 23 he'?s been stabbed twice (once by a brother), severed three fingers in a table saw (had all three re-attached but now lacks all feeling... which spawned another story of blistering his fingers on a hot burner completely unawares while his girlfriend screamed in horror), and a day spent snowboarding with a shattered shoulder and ribs (all trying to maintain a cool-guy I'?m-not-hurt attitude for his snowboarding date). Wow. Add to that the inter-familial brawl in the suite next to us and you'?ve got an exciting night on the town.

We all went down to Estrella last night; a new tapas bar downtown created by the owners of the Milky Way. Not too shabby, but not geared toward the penny-pinching grad student. Plus, I had high expectations for authentic Spanish tapas, which were of course unfulfilled. I had a phenomenal martini mixed with Apricot Liquor, Cava, and fresh-squeezed OJ, but for $8.00 a pop I was limited to one. Ouch, an $8 drink in Boise? I could see that in Seattle, Chicago, etc., but Boise?

The plan: Lauren and I head out in two hours for the cabin. We went to the Co-op (chicken coop, that place was beyond busy yesterday) and plumped a good chunk of cash for some fancy cheese. Get this: we'?ve decided to eat cheap and easy meals, but to wine and dine with aperitifs and beverages in-between. Time to crack open that Spanish Champagne we got from Dykstra for our two-year anniversary, thinly slice the stinky cheese, and pretend we do it all the time. The weather'?s been dumping moisture (the frozen dandruff kind) into the mountains so we'?ll log some epic hikes and refuel on cheese alone. I'?ll let you know how my body holds up after such a diet.

OK, back to it. This is an exciting time for sure; cabin, Christmas, Arizona warmth, then the final chapter of grad school. OK.

viva

The academic world is grossly out-of-step with the Christian calendar. Don't they know, the professors that is, that we're required to prepare well in advance of December 25th for the Christmas holiday? I just finished my finals today, which means I started frantically scribbling Christmas cards this evening.

Life is rolling along like a wet sponge; I'm getting too wound up about future employment. Too often I lie awake at night, waiting for sleep to descend; chasing thoughts about resumes, cover letters, interviews, networking, locations... Come on, I'm still six months from graduating, and probably nine months from relocation. The underlying anxiety permeates everything I touch, including my relationship with Lauren, and I am way too cranky way too often. Too, too, how many times is TOO many to use TOO?

Lauren and I head to the cabin next week for a three-day pre-Christmas vacation, a welcome respite before I journey to Elko and then south to Tucson for a couple weeks. The three days in the mountains will be the only full-on rest during this break, and I'm looking forward to sleeping late, eating well, and logging some epic snow-laden hikes. The last trip Lauren and I followed some elk tracks a few miles up a trail. In my non-Sacagawean knowledge I assumed we were a mere five minutes behind them, though the tracks were likely laid hours before our arrival. This time the snowscape should offer new opportunities to fake mountainman insight... are there bears in Idaho?

I am excited about Tucson, and the couch is reserved awaiting my arrival. A friend of mine calls the sport of cycling "a tall man in a midget circus", meaning it is the most outlying of sports in the public eye. The benefit to such a niche sport is that friendship ties run deep and thick; how else would I have a couch to occupy seven hundred miles away? During my training time I'll also be shooting cover letters to potential employers. Between pedaling my bike and peddling myself I will stay occupied. I'm also planning a day-trip into Mexico, which will be my first trip since I was in diapers (three years ago... just kidding, it's been a couple decades). My dad once bragged to me that he drug me across the border with him just to distract the border police; I like to embellish the story by imagining the dope actually hidden in my Huggies. Huggies? Smugglies?

The only things I'm bringing back are some fake Oakley sunglasses and a few gallons of local-brewed Tequila (which I've heard makes exceptional engine degreaser). I'm not pretty enough to warrant abduction, but I'll be certain to alert my caretakers before I cross the border so don't worry. I am planning to stick to English as much as possible, mostly to conduct my own experiment into how many people try to rip-off the dumb American tourist who can't speak Spanish. Should be fun.

And yes, I am really eager to spend Christmas with my family in Elko. My mom knows the correct colors, smells, and music to spiral my thoughts back 20-years to the fondest childhood memories I possess. Gifts mean nothing. The intangible family vibe hits you like an anvil in the chest the first time the Christmas tree lights flicker.