Tetanus Sh-aaarrrgggghhhhh!

Sometimes we take things for granted, and we don’t know what we have until they're gone. Take for example, the use of my shoulder.

Recently, I got a tetanus booster shot. At the time, it didn’t seem like that big of a deal, because I didn’t remember it being that bad the last time I’d gotten one. What I failed to recall, unfortunately, was that I was a teenager back then, young and robust, and at a point of my life where I could spend an entire day running into a concrete wall at full speed and suffer no adverse affects. (Not that I spent my time running into walls. At least not that I’ll readily admit.)

So, overwhelmed with male bravado, I decided to get the shot. When the time came, in true macho fashion, I whimpered courageously and stared fearlessly at the wall opposite of where the action was occurring. (Hey, it’s a needle, and it’s going RIGHT INTO YOU!!) The shot itself barely hurt, and when it was over, I wiped my eyes free of the accumulated tears of valor and commenced to celebrate my victory, assuming that the worst was over.

Then, shortly after, my shoulder stopped working. I couldn’t put on my seatbelt without whimpering. I couldn’t raise my arm above my waist without a sustained string of grunting. I couldn’t reach my phone at work. (That one was actually a good thing.) Talk about a wake up call! In fact, because of it, I’ve made a solemn vow to take a moment each and every day to truly appreciate my shoulders. (This will explain if you ever see me kissing them affectionately.)

Anyway, this whole episode brought with it a startling realization: Perhaps I’m not as resilient as I once was. Perhaps my body doesn’t bounce back as quickly as years past. Perhaps the hands of time are beginning to chip away at the very foundation of my strength and health. Still, I’m a much wiser person now, and I’ll take that over being young and dumb any day of the week. Just don't tell that to my aching shoulder. I’m having trouble getting back on its good side as it is.

Mid-Blog Crisis

Sometimes I wonder about my blogging. While fun, is it having any unintended consequences? For example, am I painting a picture of myself that is not wholly accurate? Does my playful and carefree style impact who I am in the eyes of my reader(s)? Am I now seen as nothing more than a provider of short snippets of frivolity? (Yes, that’s actually a word! I checked!) Is the real me, the three-dimensional me, being overshadowed by my blogging persona? Is the virtual Curly slowly taking over, ever so gently pulling the real me out off of the stage of other people’s interpretations, using a hook of shallow jokes and over-exaggerated vocabulary, soon to hide the true depths of my character behind the curtain of obscurity, or some other really bad metaphor?

Perhaps I should attempt to show all of my sides.

Perhaps I should speak more about politics. (“They’re all shameless pandering crooks! Now please don’t raise my taxes!”)

Perhaps I should speak more about my hopes and dream. (“I hope my dreams where I can fly come true!”)

Perhaps I should speak more about fine literature. (“The new Garfield just came out!”)

Perhaps I should speak more about some of the important issues facing us all today. (“When is the NCAA going to do away with the BCS?”)

Hmm.

Hmmmmm.

Hmmmmmmmmm.

(That’s me thinking, by the way.)

Well, I’ve come to a decision, but I’m not going to tell you. You’re just going to have to figure it out for yourself. But it probably won’t be too hard. Here’s a hint:

Giant Slug!!!!!

ATM Bliss

You may not be as impressed as me, as I’m quite easily amused, but when I discovered that my bank now has ATMs that allow you to deposit your checks directly into them, I got pretty excited. As I mentioned in a previous post, I hate interacting with tellers at my bank when cashing or depositing a check, because they’re paid to be overly-cheery, all in a thinly veiled attempt to convince me to open up eight-thousand new accounts, all of with have small service charges. In fact, I used to pool up my checks for many weeks before bringing them in, not because I was lazy, but because I wanted to minimize my teller interaction.

Now, however, the game’s changed with the new ATM deposit functionality. Recently, I dropped by my favorite ATM vestibule with two checks. My hands were shaking so much that I could barely slide my card into the slot, and I had to work hard to control my breathing to keep from hyperventilating with excitement. I managed to choose the check deposit option, stacked my checks, and fed them in. They were immediately sucked up and processed. Within a few seconds, they had been scanned in and displayed up on the screen for me to see, along with a total dollar amount confirmation. I hit ‘OK’, and my deposit was done.

No long lines. No talking about the weather or my weekend plans with an annoying teller while simultaneously convincing myself that strangling them wasn’t my best option. (Satisfying, yes, smart, no.) Needless to say, I was pretty happy, and if I could do heel-clickers, I would have performed one right there in the vestibule. (That’d be some good ATM camera archive footage, by the way.)

As happy as I am, however, I’m not going to let my guard down. In the world of technology, things usually start off user-friendly and easy to use, but are then completely ruined in an attempt to maximize profits. In fact, I fully expect my ATM to soon start cheerily asking me if I’d like to open a new account or get a home loan. (“If you’d like your check card back, please select the home loan with the 150% interest rate.”) Call me a cynic, but I prefer to think of myself as a realist. Still, in the meanwhile, I’ll make sure to enjoy the small window of useful functionality before it is ruined.

So feel free to write me a check. Nothing would make me happier than depositing it.

From Cracker Barrel To Peak 6

One fun thing to do on road trips is randomly fall in love. The first time this ever happened to me was at a Crackle Barrel somewhere in Kentucky. It was one of the hostesses who cast her spell over me. She was an incredibly enthusiastic person who took it upon herself to decide for my buddy Jarves and me what we should order, since we were overwhelmed with the numerous options, all of which looked good. We chatted with her for quite a while, mainly about food and Nashville, before we were seated, and she continued to check in with us throughout the meal just to make sure we were enjoying ourselves. We then hung around afterwards and talked to her some more, because being in love makes you do things like that. (Jarves was in love, too.) We finally left after buying some jelly beans. We soon deemed her the Cracker Barrel Girl, and we even vowed to write a song, appropriately titled Cracker Barrel Girl. Alas, we never did write that song, but it’s not because we weren’t in love with her.

All had been quiet on the Falling In Love On A Road Trip front until my recent trip to Washington. My buddy Lurch and I stopped at a Peak 6 Adventure Store in Olympic National Park and found ourselves face to face with a beautiful surfer girl who was running the place. After talking to her for about a half of a second, I had fallen madly in love. Lurch, seeing this, wandered off to let me work my magic, by which I mean he hoped I would eventually make a gigantic fool of myself. Anyway, not only was the surfer girl beautiful, she was also funny, sarcastic, and incredibly good natured. Also, if I hadn’t made this clear already, she was beautiful. There was nobody else in the store, and she seemed quite happy to chat, probably because she was awesome and beautiful, so we discussed Olympic National Park for quite a long while before I even began to look around the store. My only misstep was when she asked me if we had seen any wildlife, to which I proudly responded, “We saw a giant slug!” While it was true, it wasn’t one of my better lines.

The Giant Slug

I finally tore myself away from her long enough to purchase several items. (Even if I didn’t find anything I liked, I would have bought something just for an excuse to talk to her again, and I’m not ashamed to admit it.) Either being in love with me, or more likely just a good salesperson, she complimented me on my choices, to which I most likely grinned stupidly and babbled incoherently. (By this point my last few vestiges of suaveness had worn off.) Then we chatted some more. This time we talked about how Bigfoot was misunderstood, and how he was probably was a pretty cool guy who just didn’t like publicity.

However, all good things must come to an end, and soon an annoying lady showed up at the store, barged in, and started to tell us all, without provocation, about how she collected rocks or something. It pretty much broke the entire spell, and Lurch and I were soon forced to leave.

So now I’m in love, even though I know I’ll probably never see her again and that her seeming willingness to talk for hours was just because she was a genuinely nice person. (Sounds like I should write a song!) However, I’m a firm believer in fate, so if it’s written in the stars, someday I’ll run into her again. Perhaps she’ll even read this blog. (Hey! You’re beautiful! We saw a giant slug!) But even if that doesn’t happen, it was still worth it, because falling in love randomly on a road trip is always a rewarding experience. I just hope the Cracker Barrel Girl doesn’t find out.

'Twas The Night Before Vacation

I should be sleeping, as I have a flight at 7:30 tomorrow morning, and it’s already past ten.

If I work my way back from my departure time, I can figure out what time I need to wake up. Let’s see….factor in time to check my apartment eight-hundred times before I leave to make sure I didn’t leave a light on or the water running, drive to the airport, circle the various parking lots until something opens up, get my bags checked, wait in line for security, where they’ll inevitably think that the 102 year old lady in line in front of me is a terrorist and stop everything while she yells and whaps at them with her umbrella, and find my gate. After doing the math on my fingers, I figure out that I should have left for the airport three hours ago. Oh well. I guess I’ll just risk it and show up an hour or so before my flight leaves.

I already decided that I’m going to stay in tonight, because of my early flight tomorrow. This logic is good and responsible in theory, but it's flawed, because I’m not tired. My body has gotten used to shutting down after work on Friday and then coming back alive at around 10:00 for a night of fun, and this Friday is no different, as proven by the fact that I’m wide awake. Still, I’ll drop into bed soon, but I’ll most likely be lying there until 3:00 in the morning, staring up at the ceiling, reassuring myself that it sure was a good thing I got to sleep early.

I think I’m packed. I’m not really sure, but I don’t really care, either. My new credo is this: remember the essentials, as you can buy everything else when you get there. The essentials for me consist of hiking boots, rain gear, my camera, and my contacts. After I made sure that I had them, I just filled my bags with other random stuff that I may or may not need. I used to stress about packing, but not anymore. Who cares if I forgot to bring shirts? There’s always a Wal Mart around, somewhere. Plus, not knowing what you pack makes things more adventurous. (“Huh. Three toothbrushes, but no underwear. This should be interesting.”)

Of all of my vacations, I've planned the least for this one. Usually, I bring with me a list of various points of interest, which I’m compiled over a week or two of on-and-off research, along with several thousand printouts of information on possible hiking destinations. Now, however, the plan is to just stop by the nearest ranger’s office of whatever park or wilderness area we’re in and ask for suggestions, or just look at the travel book that I bought.

I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’ve finally figured out the sweet spot for planning vacations, and it all boils down to this: less is more. There’s nothing better than basically winging an entire vacation. Everything else in life is structured, so why not do the opposite when you’re finally free of it all?

Yup, I’m feeling pretty good. Now, if I could just get some sleep.

Vacation Mode

“I’m already in vacation mode.”

I like that phrase, especially when I’m the one who’s saying it. It means that I’ve not yet left for vacation, but I’ve already mentally checked myself out from the doldrums of everyday life, in anticipation of going somewhere that I’ve never been to before and stepping away from the rigors of the rat race for at least a solid week.

Choosing when to mentally check out is a big decision. Do it too late, and you don’t get to bask in anticipation of your vacation for very long. Do it too early, and you may get fired for showing up to work in a bathrobe and spending the day with your feet up on your desk, playing with your smart phone. I recommend mentally checking out from your non-professional life about a week before vacation, unless you’re married, which means that you won’t get to at all, but holding off from checking out from work until about two days before, as job hunting may put a crimp in your relaxation. (Also, no matter how relaxing it may seem, don’t go with the bathrobe, unless you are a truly irreplaceable entity at your company, which is just another way of saying that you have blackmail material on somebody who it at least two rungs above you on the corporate ladder.)

I’m now 5 days away from vacation, which means that I’ve checked out from my regular life. That means staying up late if I feel the need, eating what I want to, and shaving only if it seems like something that will bring me great joy. I still have to wait for a couple of days before I check out from work, though. This is kind of frustrating, but it’s the safest thing to do, so I’ll just have to power on through, which will be made harder because I’ll be getting no sleep, running entirely on energy obtained from pizza, and continually having to answer people when they ask me if I’m growing a beard.

I’m getting pretty excited, to the point where I’m almost thinking about the stuff I’ll need to bring with me. (“Almost” being the key word. I prefer packing the night before, a ritual that takes me no more than fifteen minutes.) I’ll need to haul out my hiking boots, which have lain dormant for pretty much a year and a half. (They still probably have Grand Canyon dust on them.) I’ll also need to find my camera and make sure that it still works. I could always do some more research on the Pacific Northwest, but winging the entire trip is always a lot more fun, as it leaves you open to surprises. (“Wait, there’s an ocean here?”)

I should probably end this with some sort of witty, summarizing remark, but I really don’t feel the urge. I’m already in vacation mode!

The Amazing Resilient Wardrobe

Do you remember the entry I made several months ago where I basically said that if I didn’t go clothes shopping soon, my entire wardrobe would dissolve from old age and I’d have to walk around wearing a barrel?

Whaddaya mean you don’t remember it at all?

Whaddaya mean perhaps you read it, but it must not have been all that memorable?

Whaddaya mean you only ended up on this blog by accident, and you don’t plan on coming back?

Whoops, sorry about that. Just got a little carried away.

Anyway, today I was reminded of this when I tried to tie my shoe.

Perhaps I should take a step back. I’ve needed new work shoes for quite a while. They have no tread left whatsoever and the soles are peeling away. They are scuffed and faded. Not surprisingly, given my track record, I’ve ignored all of this, because the shoe is still functional, albeit tacky. Today, however, I was at a meeting at work, trying to tie one of my shoes, when the lace snapped in two. Acting fast, I ignored everything that was going on in said meeting, which is standard procedure for me anyway, and made a quick fix, which consisted of tying the two pieces back together and re-lacing my shoe.

At the time, my thoughts were as follows:

1. Well, I guess I’m going to have to buy new shoes. It’s been a good run, but all things must come to an end eventually.
2. I wonder if I should be paying attention to what’s going on in this meeting?
3. Hey, where’d everybody go! How long have I been in here by myself?

Except I’m not going to buy new shoes. Despite my initial thoughts of doing so, I already know that I’m going to leave them as they are. They’re still functional! Why waste the time and money on new shoes when the ones I have work perfectly fine? (This leads me to believe that my shoes will have to be stolen or caught in a fiery explosion that separates them at a molecular level before I ever replace them.)

This is the reason why I still wear my black polo that I got many years ago. It’s not black anymore. It’s faded to some sickly shade of gray. Once in a while, I think that I should buy a new one, but I then remind myself that I already have one, and thus, nothing gets done, and no new polo is purchased. (My guess is that it'll have to be destroyed in whatever it is that finally gets my shoes before I get a new one.)

Getting back to my original point, which I haven’t yet actually made, which I think is quite impressive, I guess I jumped the gun a bit on needing to go clothes shopping. I’m pretty certain that my current wardrobe has got some serious mileage left. Sure, it may be faded, holey, coming apart at the seams, and tied together, but it still works. Why mess with a good thing?

Plus, I'm all right with looking tacky.