tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19926320699657984282024-03-05T05:36:27.251-08:00Bright Lights, Big CityColynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10870029250952620394noreply@blogger.comBlogger51125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1992632069965798428.post-79432439283306252312012-02-12T10:52:00.000-08:002012-02-12T10:52:48.393-08:00Why, again, does the rest of the world consider Americans excessive?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Oh, that's why...</div>
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We build big loud trucks whose only purpose is to jump really high into the air and crush cars and make noise. I donned no sleeves on this frigid Friday in February (because you shouldn't wear sleeves to monster truck rallies, duh) and watched as trucks with names like "El Toro Loco," "Monster Mutt," "Superman," and "Grave Digger" revved their engines, jumped over cars and, in some cases wrecked themselves from jumping too high and landing on one wheel. The whole thing was totally ridiculous and is probably on the list of things that proves that our collective IQ is rapidly lowering (possibly from breathing in too many monster truck fumes). I know I killed a few brain cells that night, and it wasn't from alcohol.</div>
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The show consisted of a bunch of different events crammed together with no particular reasoning as far as we could tell. For instance, they started out by "racing" the monster trucks around the track with two jumps per lap, but I still am not sure exactly how the winner was chosen or why. It seemed to be which ever truck crossed the finish line first, but if I wanted to see things go fast, I would have gone to Nascar without my sleeves! I was rooting for the car that hit the jumps most recklessly! There were some ATV races mixed in there too which, after seeing the monster trucks race, looked like a bunch of Hot Wheels toys driving in circles. That was followed by a ten minute set up for what we found out was snow mobile jumping (the actual performance lasted about as long as the set up and ensuing take down of their ramp). Oh, did I mention that this did not take place on snow? Then, thinking that we couldn't get any more confused about what was happening, there was a 12 minute (at least) <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oQZKjYm4QJs&feature=related">dub step laser light show</a>. Still not sure why.</div>
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The end of the show was what we all came to see, the monster trucks ran all over the place, crushing cars and driving up the huge ramp in the middle. Two trucks broke something, which was AWESOME, and they all made a lot of noise and got into the air a few times. Still doesn't get the testosterone pumping like a fighter jet fly over, but it wasn't bad. AMERICA!</div>
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<br />Colynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10870029250952620394noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1992632069965798428.post-18729148119613992292012-01-07T15:40:00.000-08:002012-01-09T20:42:01.840-08:00Ansel Adams<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I just got back from the Lake County Discovery Museum in Wauconda, Illinois where they were hosting an <a href="http://www.lcfpd.org/html_lc/AnselAdams/index.html">exhibit of Ansel Adams original prints</a>. I have to say, I have been familiar with Adams' work since I took photography in high school, but I never really got much information about his innovations and techniques that he used to produce some of the most incredible photographic images ever made. The exhibit had a good deal more prints than I had expected being a small museum in Wauconda, and each one was very impressive. I have never seen an Ansel Adams print that was reproduced so well (these were actually the work of Adams himself), the ones I have seen are usually grainy or faded and do not show what I learned to be one of Adams' signature features of his prints: sharpness and depth of field.</div>
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As I read the information next to the prints, I learned that Adams used an extremely deep depth of field to capture as much of the detail of the landscapes he photographed. After reading this, I made sure to pay attention to the depth of field used in the prints and it was abundantly clear that the aperture was about as small as he could get it. The image was razor sharp from the pebbles in the foreground to the jagged mountains in the background and everything in between. He seemed to want to capture every detail he possibly could in his photographs. It was really interesting to go back and look at the photographs a little closer and see all the little grains of gravel and the textures of the snowdrifts and sand dunes. The pictures I grabbed above from the internet just don't do justice to the sharpness of the prints I saw in person.</div>
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Another interesting piece of information I picked up from reading along as I checked out the prints was that Adams' original plan was to be a musician. He wanted, if I recall correctly, to be a pianist, and never lost his interest in music as an art form even as he became a world renowned photographer. I read quotes from him describing how he would "hear" things in the images he captured. I'm not sure if it was the power of suggestion, but his images did seem to have some sort of aural spirit to them. I can't say I could hear music as I looked at them but they <i>looked</i> like music. The landscapes seemed to flow along, or stand rigidly still as a melody or accent moves and stops in a song. Dave told me not to apologize for getting too introspective when I write, so I won't (but it still feels a little funny). The images were truly inspiring and I will admit, I got some serious goose bumps as I looked at the staggering beauty of the places Adams photographed. He seemed to be able to capture them at their most wonderful, intense, and sometimes peaceful moments. I read that a lot of the shots were taken at sunrise or just after and that he would often wait for the shadow line to cut across the frame at just the right spot to get his contrast just right.</div>
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I haven't been seriously moved by an art exhibit in a long time, not sure if I ever have actually, but I was today. The last day to see the show is tomorrow, so you'll probably have missed it when you read this, but if you ever do get the chance to see these photographs, or better, the places that were Adams' subject matter, do not pass it up.</div>Colynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10870029250952620394noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1992632069965798428.post-67975786015426647742011-12-28T13:41:00.000-08:002011-12-28T13:41:37.060-08:00Checking Off the Bucket ListJust a small accomplishment, but I'm hoping to solicit the help of anyone who might read this in order to more thoroughly achieve my goal.<div>
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It all started when I was sent downtown to Michigan Ave. to pick up some cornbread from a restaurant called Bandera. Doreen brought some of their cornbread the last time Mitch made chili (for Hannah's birthday, I believe) and it was delicious. I'm not sure what drove me to think this way, but I thought that making cornbread is something that I should be able to do well. I've always liked cornbread, and it never seemed like something that was too difficult or technical to bake (plus you bake it in a cast iron skillet, which is the most manly way to bake stuff), so I figured I would take it upon myself to learn to bake really good cornbread so that next time, we don't have to go all the way to Michigan Ave. to get it. So I added it to my "bucket list," figuring that it would be a pretty easy one to check off.</div>
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My first attempt was yesterday. I used some Target gift cards I received from families of kids I teach (thank you!) to get a skillet and the basic ingredients. It proved to be every bit as simple as I thought it would be to make the stuff, there's enough milk in the recipe I had that even mixing the batter was a cinch. I poured it in the skillet after warming it in the oven with bacon fat melting inside and cooked it for about half an hour. When I pulled it out and tasted it, I was surprised by how moist it was. I suppose there are different kinds of cornbread and this was definitely a more cake-like version. I'd like to tweak the recipe a bit and see if I can perfect it. My main obstacle, I'm sure, will be finding willing recipients for all my mediocre attempts in the meantime as I don't think my family is going to put away a ten inch cornbread as often as I'd like to practice making them.</div>
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So, if you have a really good cornbread recipe, or a secret ingredient you'd like to share with a novice (albeit one who can fake a pretty good southern accent if that helps), please do. I'd like to have this one taken care of well before we have Mitch's chili again (drool).</div>Colynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10870029250952620394noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1992632069965798428.post-9112308004260991942011-12-14T18:05:00.000-08:002011-12-14T18:05:05.924-08:00Fruits of Our LaborI've never been good at following up and, seeing as though this blog started with the idea of getting me doing the things I wasn't particularly good at - or at the very least, keeping me from regressing into a less articulate person, I figured it would be appropriate to follow up on a post I made earlier this year.<br />
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Back in the spring, I posted about the garden I planted (one of the many advantages to living with the "room mates" being that they have a yard that is capable of growing edible plants). The major goals of the garden were, as most gardens are around here, herbs and tomatoes. I planted a few different kinds of tomatoes, basil, garlic chives, parsley, rosemary, cilantro, and then also a few other things that I thought might be cool: squash, brussels sprouts, cayenne peppers, ancho chilies, and cauliflower. As is the case with nature, things didn't really work out the way I had planned. The tomato plants yielded a grand total of, I believe, two tomatoes. I think they were stricken with some sort of disease, infection, or infestation of some kind because their branches, after growing up and out with vigor, quickly shriveled and died leaving only a few green branches. The squash plant produced some small, but tasty looking gourds - apparently very tasty looking, especially to squirrels. The brussels sprouts grew strong and took over much more area than I had expected and produced a good number of small but flavorful sprouts. We roasted these up, after I cleaned off the entire colony of tiny bugs that had made their home in my sprouts plants, with some pecans and they turned out mighty delicious. Maybe it was the bugs adding that certain j'ne sais quoi... If anyone has a suggestion on what to do with the leaves of this plant, please let me know, because I felt a little bad tossing away that much of the plant and they actually look like they might cook up well somehow. The herbs did well, aside from the cilantro, which I have decided is a pipe dream of mine and just plain won't grow well here. Mom made a TON of pesto from the basil, which we have frozen for the winter.<br />
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Oh man! I forgot about the lettuce, we grew ourselves some real nice heads of lettuce that gave us thick leaves with purple edges on heads that were almost too big to hold in one hand. In the future, I'd like to see how those plants do if I just cut off a few leaves at a time instead of the whole thing at once. Will they continue to grow? I could have gone for more of those salads. <br />
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The real successes of the garden were, surprisingly, the cauliflower and the peppers. I harvested the cauliflower on a cool, wet night in the late fall and brought it in the house to further inspect it. I had never seen a cauliflower plant before and the thing is really quite impressive. It stands just under a foot tall or so with big, veiny leaves surrounding the white, waxy "meaty" part like petals. The moisture runs down the leaves toward the "meaty" part and its waxy coating causes it to bead up and stand on top of the white mass, giving it a shimmering quality that made it tough to chop off. When I brought the thing in, mom noticed a pink tint to the usually milky white flesh. It reminded me of the pink algae that grows in alpine snow banks in the summer time. I chopped the thing up, tossed it in a bowl with olive oil, mint, crushed red pepper, spread it all out on a cookie sheet, baked it up and added pine nuts and parmesan cheese (mom got the recipe from The Girl and The Goat). It was De-licious! We were all wishing there were more.<br />
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The peppers were a whole other story altogether. They grew late and produced a ton of fruit. I really didn't have a plan for these, figured I'd be putting them in omelets or something I guess, but then life intervened and I wasn't at home cooking omelets on the weekend (thank you ultimate). The peppers kept on coming. I think they made their way into a few dishes here and there, but for the most part, they cluttered the countertop and our fruit and veggie storage areas. I was able to cook up a couple of the anchos into something resembling chili rellenos (well a very loose interpretation of chili rellenos - am I butchering this spelling?) which, along with some leftover steak, became my lunch one day at work.<br />
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The reason I'm writing this, well what prompted me to write this <i>tonight</i> rather, was that I just put the last of the fruits of this year's garden in the food processor and added it to some pizza. I had hung the last of the cayennes on some thread between the cupboards in the kitchen window above our sink to dry, and dry they did. I took them down this evening and they were as brittle as old leaves. I easily cracked off the stems and broke them in two or three pieces with the same ease before dropping them in the food processor and chopping them up. I could smell them as soon as I removed the stems, a surprisingly sweet, but potently strong, spicy aroma that made me think twice about taking in too deep a sniff, lest my eyes should start to water, filled the space around my cutting board. Some of them were still dark green when they were strung up, but all were a bright red by now. I had Mom, Matt, and Dad smell the container of chopped up pepper bits and they all said, "Mmmm, fresh, crushed red pepper," which I thought was a little funny, as the peppers had been sitting above the sink for probably over a month.<br />
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All in all, I'd call the garden a success, certainly not in the way I had expected it, but a success none the less. Next year, more cauliflower, better tomatoes (please), smarter with the brussels sprouts, peppers, but not as many and maybe some different kinds, and definitely no cilantro this time, I know, it doesn't work, maybe some mint too to go along with the cauliflower. I welcome your suggestions, tips, and knowledge if you'd be so kind as to share.Colynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10870029250952620394noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1992632069965798428.post-52394655252685048312011-10-20T17:42:00.001-07:002011-10-20T17:42:55.265-07:00Yelp!<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I was flipping through the news paper this morning before leaving for work and an article in the Dining section caught my eye. The article’s headline was <i>Yelp’s power grates on wary restaurants</i>. This is something I’ve often thought about since having a scalding review written about someone’s experience at Lush with me behind the counter. That particular situation was handled shortly after it happened and the review is no longer posted on yelp.com however, there are plenty more like it up there for restaurants all over the country. Today’s article covered the issues that arise when people are given the opportunity to make uniformed and unqualified critiques of businesses and other people use them to decide whether or not to patronize that business. I, personally, find Yelp to be a forum that is entirely uninteresting to me, but I can not deny the sway it has among “foodies” at least here in Chicago. The problem I have with Yelp is no fault of its own, it’s merely a side effect of the internet itself: it affords its users an unrestricted and unchecked opportunity to vent (or speak, rather) their personal feelings and have no concern for any recourse by the proprietor of the business (but also offer the proprietor no opportunity to change their opinion). When a restaurant is reviewed on Yelp, the person writing the review is never obligated to stand by their words or justify them in any way, and I think that is wrong. In fact, the article today had an example from the owners (husband and wife) of two restaurants here in Chicago in which the wife was at another restaurant waiting for her husband to arrive when she overheard a person at another table “trashing” their restaurants. When her husband arrived, he recalled the man’s face “go[ing] white” and, after the wife telling him “we own those restaurants,” the man “ran out of the place.” This makes me wonder if people really mean what they say on Yelp, or at least are prepared to stand by their words once they’ve written them. I think that if you are going to make a bold statement about someone’s work, you should first be qualified to make such a statement, and second, be comfortable with making it a dialogue, let the person defend them self before you go and publish it and let other people put stock in what you say. The internet is a wild place and I think that is good. Ideas can spread faster than ever and we can do and learn things any time we like but, like the Spiderman comics say, “with great power comes great responsibility.” In fact, the article states, a correlation has been shown between Yelp reviews and the level of business with regard to restaurants. The only person keeping you in check on the internet is <b>you</b> and there’s nothing wrong with that. We can be mature enough to handle that responsibility, it really doesn’t take that much foresight to realize that, when you say something publicly, it could potentially could be heard/read/whatever by the person it concerns. There’s really nothing wrong with that either, except when the criticism is cruel, personal, or just plain mistaken. In my experience, the people who own restaurants want people to have a good experience at their place and, given the opportunity, will do almost anything to make sure people do. When the review was written that involved me, it was hurtful and it included very few critiques of the store and really focused on insulting me and calling me names, frankly it was pretty juvenile. The person who wrote it took it down as soon as I wrote her about it which makes me wonder if she thought it was valid. I suppose that, in this realm of little or no regulation, we need to be ready to keep ourselves in check and take a step back and think about what would happen if what we wrote or said got back to the person it concerned before clicking “Send.”</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">By the way, I understand the irony of commenting on the website that allows people to comment, without restriction, on pretty much whatever they want. I hope I have been fair and just here and if not, please let me know.</span></div>Colynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10870029250952620394noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1992632069965798428.post-12496350671180348972011-10-05T11:42:00.001-07:002011-10-05T11:43:13.001-07:00Adorable/Awkward/Hilarious/WTF?! Child Moment of the DayA sixth grade boy walks up to my office door and asks me, "Mr. Flynn, may I worship you?" I, of course respond, "Yeah, duh." He does a burpee and walks away.Colynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10870029250952620394noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1992632069965798428.post-61063001393588830512011-06-27T16:37:00.000-07:002011-06-27T16:37:23.523-07:00Adorable/Awkward/Hilarious/WTF?! child moment of the dayA ten year old boy came up to me today during a game of "Freeze Dance" (you just dance until the music stops and you have to freeze in your dance motion), and informed me that he "didn't know any dance moves." And asked if he could therefore "just move to the music." I was preparing myself for the "you can dance, it's ok if you look silly" pep talk, but he seemed totally fine with his idea of "just moving to the music," which, of course as I informed him, was in fact dancing.Colynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10870029250952620394noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1992632069965798428.post-56869044540034375952011-05-21T10:40:00.000-07:002011-05-21T10:40:01.061-07:00Farmer...Colyn?Not really. I don't think I'm quite able to grow enough food to call myself a "farmer." But let's just say I would like to add it to the things I'd like to know how to do, you know, in case of a zombie apocalypse. Wait, is rapture today? Why did I even bother planting? Anyway, I have adopted a similar attitude toward the stuff that grows in the yard to that of my choice in clothing - I don't care so much how it looks, what does it DO? Plants are pretty good looking any way you slice it, so I'm not as much into their aesthetics as I am their function. I guess that's why I want to grow some food. Besides, who doesn't want a few more tomatoes available any time you want them for the whole summer?! A couple of weekends back, I got the soil prepared, adding top soil, peat moss, and slicing off a few more feet of grass to allow for more crops this year. I'm not quite at the composting point yet so I didn't have any home made dirt to add, but we might be able to make that work soon. I like the idea of a self-sustaining garden, but I'm not too sure how best to accomplish it at this point (and pops isn't too keen on the idea of letting stuff rot somewhere in his yard - on that note, I got a pretty swift "no" when I brought up the idea of chickens as well). The challenge here is always keeping the squirrels off of the tomatoes, which we were pretty successful with last year maybe by shear luck or perhaps they ate one of those cayenne peppers I was growing and thought better of testing the fruits. We also planted marigolds which I have heard keep squirrels away. I'm really looking forward to this year's garden, I think we could get a pretty good yield if I can keep up with the watering, trimming, weeding, etc. For those who care, we are growing three, maybe four different kinds of tomatoes, swiss chard, purple lettuce, squash, cauliflower, brussels sprouts, cayenne peppers, hot chiles, basil, parsley, rosemary, cilantro, and perhaps some garlic chives if I didn't kill them by now. Sounds like a tasty meal, eh? I'm looking forward to it all. Come over any time for a sample!<br />
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<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I have been noticing a trend in the last few years that seems to be a multi-area movement to reexamine and reevaluate our perceptions on the “progress” made in several basic areas of human life specifically food and drink, reusables, and exercise. In each of these areas, I have observed a shift toward the styles of the past, and in some cases the distant past, in a very complete way. I do not discount the fact that I have been reading more and more lately, and that the media used to promote these ideas is almost exclusively print, or that these “trends” may simply be the effects of the liberal social realm in which I find myself. Either way, there is something going on and it seems to be catching on in more than just the liberal, leftist circles and I’d like to start looking at it from the perspective of beer.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I can’t say I’ve always liked beer, my first one that I can remember was a warm Busch Light at a party in high school which I couldn’t even force myself to choke down despite the social pressure, but now I like it a LOT. Even more, I prefer, most of the time, craft beer with unique, potent flavors, different textures, that challenges my brain to take a second look at what I’m drinking, but at the same time there’s always room for an ice cold American Lager when I’m in the mood. This preference was something I developed on my summer adventures in Seattle, where craft beer had already taken hold and people demanded tastier brews even in the divest of dive bars. I remember being disappointed when I would come home and try to find a solid pale ale or esb at the UIC college bars. However, in the years that followed, I began to see more and more craft brews spring up at bars that didn’t normally carry them (most of Chicago’s watering holes), and even more surprising, more and more craft breweries started opening up in the area. People I knew who I recalled having the “High Life Light is way better than Keystone Light” conversation with, suddenly were asking if I’d ever had the 3 Floyd’s Alpha King, and celebrations of Dark Lord Day began to include a wider population than the bearded, tatted, pierced beer geek gang. When I ask people (from behind the counter of the finest wine and spirits store in the galaxy) what the beer that did it for them was, what made them trade taste for quantity, what made them pay a little more per bottle they usually have a memory of a friend sharing something delicious or going to a brewery somewhere, but included in almost all their answers is that they feel like they are drinking real beer. </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Real</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> beer? After the flashbacks of the scene in Hook where the lost boys feast on nothing subside, I think that maybe there’s something to this. </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Reality,</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> in this case, is how well they are perceiving it. How much do I know about this beer? Where did it come from? What was it made with? Why was it made to taste/look/feel this way? Who made it? The more we know about this thing we are putting in our bodies, the more we believe in it and the more real it becomes to us. Surely this influences taste, but I think it tickles another fancy that more and more people are developing: a preference toward responsible and anthropological motives for what they do. This principle is directly opposing the commercial, big business, tell-you-what-you-want kind of philosophy that has dominated food production and distribution (and still does in most ways). I would like to think that this is due to a shift away from commercialism and consumerism, but I highly doubt that that is truly the case, instead it might be a more sustainable, responsible version of the same (the lessor of two evils).</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I am including food (and wine) production as analogous to beer. I cannot speak for the rest of the nation, but in Chicago anyway, there are more and more community supported agriculture (CSA) options than ever before. I hear my friends and acquaintances talking about their Saturday rituals of heading to the farmers’ market(s) around town, of which there are more and more. I recently watched a documentary called </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The Truth About Farmer John</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> which chronicled an Illinois farmer’s struggles with his personal demons and those that accompany any midwestern monoculturalist. His final solution to the problem of what to do with his farm and how not to lose it was to make it a CSA, a rather novel idea when you look at it through the eyes of a businessman. How do you say, “hey everybody, I have a farm that is totally organic, but small. The harvest is susceptible to all kinds of problems that could be solved with pesticides and chemicals but I’m not going to use those and therefore can’t guarantee you’ll get produce from me, but please give me a bunch of money in the spring and we’ll see what happens,” and think you’re going to make it in a world built around big-business, large-scale farming that produces all our foods from one or two raw ingredients and makes it taste extra good through all the things added to it? The only explanation I can think of is that people are starting to realize that, though it was the past, there were some things about agriculture we had right before the huge monoculture farms took over and the scientists made our food with chemicals. There is a way to be profitable and sustainable, you just have to have some faith and </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">everyone</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> has to work for it </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">together</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Another idea that I have been exposed to recently through my friends who practice Crossfit is the Paleolithic diet. This diet is based simply on what our ancestors ate, the driving idea being that we </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">evolved</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> to eat this way and the agricultural revolution is too recent for our bodies to adapt, if we are going to at all. I have to say, it sounds like one of the most logical and complete diets I have come across to date. It doesn’t make any of the mistakes of the failed fad diets which demonize or omit a certain nutrient (think “carbs are evil” “fat is evil”), rather it embraces them all, they just say that there is a proper delivery method and proportion for each nutrient that can be approximated by how our distant ancestors ate. I’ll let you google it for the specifics, but I found it interesting that someone thought, “Hey, why don’t we look at diet from an anthropological perspective and see what we are made to eat rather than just keep breaking down chemicals to their lowest common denominator and build food without the natural complexity of its delivery system.” This diet assumes we do not know everything there is to know about how food interacts in our body, but we can try banking on two million years of evolution and see how that works.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Feel free to stop reading if you think I’m blatantly plagiarizing </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The Omnivore's Dilema</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> and </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">In Defense of Food</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">, but I think the ideas go a little beyond what we put in our body. For instance, the idea of bringing your own bags to the grocery store, containers to restaurants, your own coffee mug to Starbucks! These are things that I was amazed I had never considered before they became popular. I mean, they benefit both parties and they prevent waste, duh! However, culturally, they were totally foreign and strange. I mean, if one had no concept of the supermarket and you told me about it, one might think that they would need some way of carrying the goods back home and one would not be crazy to think “Oh, I better grab a bag or a cart in which to bring the stuff home.” Something like this requires very little effort other than getting over the tradition of not doing it, which I have to say, I fail at over and over.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The next glaring example of the idea that maybe we don’t need all this extra stuff and we had it right before in many ways is the notion that our bodies are, for the most part, made correctly. Everyone can see the glaring examples of how people believe that the only way to achieve perfection of their body is to do something to it: wear something, put on makeup, shave, trim, clip, take supplements, eat special foods, etc. There is very little out there telling us, you are fine the way you are, just don’t lose it! That is an idea that I think goes along with this whole food, wine, beer, reusables, etc., in that it shows that people long ago (in this case pre-historic long ago) had some things right. More and more evidence, or at least idealists are coming out and saying “More equipment is not the answer. More complex supplements are not the answer. The answer is less external, more internal.” I watched a lecture by Christopher McDougall, the author of Born to Run (which I plan to read as soon as I finish my second round of The Fountainhead) in which he said plainly, (I’m paraphrasing here) “Humans are made to run very long distances, in our bare feet. We are not built for speed, we run long, relying on the large amount of springy connective tissue in our legs and we don’t need any special gear to do so.” He also contends that running barefoot will benefit posture, arches if you have flat feet, callused tissue on the foot, pretty much anything wrong with you mechanically. I can not testify to the effectiveness of running barefoot, but I can say that the thought of defending barefoot running against the standard form of shoes with thick padding and arch support seems backwards to me in the first place. Barefoot was first, should we not be defending shoes against that? I should add, to clarify, that McDougall does not necessarily mean literally </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">barefoot</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">, he runs in Vibram Five Fingers and is simply saying that we should run in something that is going to protect us from getting glass in your foot, but not something that is going to support us in some way we were not built to be supported. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I have to say, I really like this idea, it feels like the craft beer of exercising; it’s been around forever, but it had been almost forgotten in mainstream culture. It has always been the </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">real</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> way of doing things, but we thought we could dominate nature, perhaps we need to stop trying to dominate nature and rather learn to work with it better. Perhaps we have more to learn from our past and our ancestors than we have cared to think. Perhaps some of our “primitive” ways we not so primitive at all. Perhaps we oversimplified and in doing so lost something that nature’s complexity brings to us. Perhaps we lost what we had as children, that drive that lets us enjoy running for the sake of running, that which keeps the grin on our face after hours outside playing in the park and which might keep it there after mile fifty with fifty more to go. Whatever we did, I feel like there is some truth in the idea that we might have been missing something in how we have been doing things lately and that we may just be as smart as we think we are, just not in the way we have been thinking.</span></span></div></div>Colynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10870029250952620394noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1992632069965798428.post-54785324343485311982011-01-28T10:01:00.000-08:002011-01-28T10:01:14.550-08:00The Sun! It's so simple...I can't say that I've ever noticed how the short days of the winter months affect my mood as much as this year. At least three days a week I take the train(s) to work, which means that I leave the house at 6:30 am and get home close to 6:00 pm. In the winter, this means I leave when it's dark and I get home when it's dark. The shortest days of the year this winter seemed to last forever, and this week was especially dragging, what with the four or five days of consistent gray overcast that blocked out the sun and the fact that I spend most of my days at work in windowless rooms. I will admit, I hadn't felt like I really got over that virus I had after the new year fully until I walked out of the house this morning and saw that the sky was not it's usual, Chicago street light orange color, but the light blue of the first light of dawn. Very poetic, sorry for the nausea I just caused you... Anyway, I feel like a million bucks and I can't help but thinking that it's that morning sun. It could be that it's Friday and we have Buick practice tomorrow, and the kids have been pretty well behaved this week, etc. as well, but that sun this morning really energized me. Enough to post about it anyway!Colynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10870029250952620394noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1992632069965798428.post-61832517593388869792011-01-09T18:40:00.000-08:002011-01-09T18:40:46.343-08:00R-E-A-D-A-B-O-O-KI'd like to make it clear that I have no intention of critiquing any works of literature on this blog, as I am woefully unqualified to do so, but I figured I'd write about a book I just read. It's a rather rare occurrence that I finish a book so I suppose it's worth marking the occasion with a few words.<div><br />
</div><div>I've been lucky enough to stumble upon a couple of really good reads in a bookstore in Oak Park called <a href="http://www.booktable.net/">The Book Table</a> while buying Ayn Rand books as gifts for people (and myself). Anyway, the first of the pair I stumbled upon was <u>Miracle In The Andes</u> by Nando Parrado who was one of the survivors of the plane crash in the 1970s that left a group of Uruguayan rugby players marooned high in the Andes for 72 days. The story is incredible to say the least. It was made into a movie starring Ethan Hawke that was based on the book <u>Alive</u>. I have not read that particular version of the story, and I'm sure that there are some discrepancies between that account and the one I read by Parrado. Either way, it is an extremely personal, moving, and intense account of what happens at the extremes of human experience. It certainly filled the void in my need for adventure left by finishing <u>Chasing Che</u>, another incredible book that has inspired in me an interest in Latin America, both geographically and socially. I digress. I recall feeling the full range of human emotion reading Miracle in the Andes, something I can't say I expected from any story. Reading a story like this makes me think if I have what it takes to survive something like these men did and make it clear that I hope to never have to find out.</div><div><br />
</div><div>After plowing through Miracle in the Andes, I went back to the Book Table one day mainly out of boredom, and to replace my copy of The Fountainhead, which I gave away. I walked around and felt lost. I felt like what I expect a lot of people feel coming into a wine store for the first time: completely lost. I didn't know what I wanted to read, I wasn't sure which section to look in. I didn't want to just pick a pretty cover. So I wandered around aimlessly looking for something to strike my eye. After grazing around the fiction section, I came across Cormac McCarthy's area in the fiction section. I'm not sure where I heard his name before, other than my cousin Jonny's middle name, but I picked up <u>The Road</u> and read the teaser on the back. It sounded good, adventure, danger, very personal, fiction.</div><div><br />
</div><div>The book is written in a very strange perspective, sort of a little third/first/first or something. Hard to explain, but it took a little getting used to. It's a post apocalyptic world where a father and son are traveling, more or less aimlessly, and just trying to survive. They scavenge and run, fight and evade. It reminded me of a zombie story except no real zombies, just cannibals. It was a fast read once I got used to McCarthy's writing style, but what really struck me was that, in spite of the very stripped down language (lots of abstract description and dialogue without explicit cues to who is speaking - "he said") I felt like I got to know the characters very well by the end of the book based only on their actions and words. I think it actually felt more real that way, like I was experiencing them for myself. I think that, if someone else were to read this book they might have a very different opinion of who the characters are.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Well, there you have it, some books I've read recently, yay I read stuff!</div>Colynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10870029250952620394noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1992632069965798428.post-54275006225026712612010-12-30T12:13:00.000-08:002010-12-30T12:13:45.130-08:00OXYGEN!!!<div style="text-align: center;">Sometimes when I'm feeling pensive or in need of a little oxygen, I take the green line out to the Garfield Park Conservatory. This is one of my favorite places in Chicago, especially in the winter time. It's a huge, old greenhouse with room after room of incredible plants.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I was hoping to skip town for the new year, but it didn't work out and I was feeling the need for a little warmth and fresh air. Ironically, one of the only places to find fresh air in Chicago in the winter is indoors, here at the conservatory. They usually close at 5pm, but on Wednesdays they stay open until 8pm. It happened to be Wednesday yesterday and I decided to go and read amongst the plants. When I arrived, I was surprised to find that, though the conservatory was open, most of the lights had been turned off (or perhaps not turned on, as it is a big, glass building with plenty of natural light during the day). Reading in this situation proved a bit difficult, so I just walked around and enjoyed the smells and extra oxygen. Here are some pictures I managed to take with my camera propped against something to keep it steady. If you ever find yourself looking for a place to escape to in the city, I highly recommend going here, and calling me up.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX2rdzYqQFuOtjVa8XaJ_1sNV8YS7jGkFsedmZT4gUc1V5MuVgwHoGigzrVhXbfz4EOJVI03WpksNmi46emCrnLVbdL2y0bPzG-Pe2vtTu-ES5AevOUZxMIZZ_24QWnLp-9eL429Qzszwl/s1600/DSCF0478.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX2rdzYqQFuOtjVa8XaJ_1sNV8YS7jGkFsedmZT4gUc1V5MuVgwHoGigzrVhXbfz4EOJVI03WpksNmi46emCrnLVbdL2y0bPzG-Pe2vtTu-ES5AevOUZxMIZZ_24QWnLp-9eL429Qzszwl/s320/DSCF0478.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">They're Agave plant is flowering! This, apparently, is a rare event and the whole ordeal lasts up to a year or so. The flowers bloom on the tips of a stalk that shoots up from the middle of the leaves and grows up to thirty feet tall. The stalk, though I couldn't see it well in the dim light, is said to be reminiscent of asparagus (as the agave is related to asparagus).</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6bKeSvrXxyctPx3A31mD5zUCfE_rbLdywtPe3fiz0mjvnOEbiYcnnV_e52Ezqviz84ASI63wica3RFob8rn91ZIlc8Jk91gKn6Q5wn6bWUoW-CG0j4dX9eSLo80S3ywvmETUtrY52rzjO/s1600/DSCF0485.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6bKeSvrXxyctPx3A31mD5zUCfE_rbLdywtPe3fiz0mjvnOEbiYcnnV_e52Ezqviz84ASI63wica3RFob8rn91ZIlc8Jk91gKn6Q5wn6bWUoW-CG0j4dX9eSLo80S3ywvmETUtrY52rzjO/s320/DSCF0485.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Chihuly, the famous blown glass artist, had an exhibit here a few years back in which he displayed his artwork along with the plants. I remember thinking it was very impressive, and I was surprised at how well Chihuly was able to integrate his man-made works into the natural beauty supplied by the plants. These are a few of the pieces he left for permanent display at the conservatory.</div>Colynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10870029250952620394noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1992632069965798428.post-76554457920744201162010-12-20T11:00:00.000-08:002010-12-20T11:00:06.284-08:00Outdoor Adventure Club Weekend at Kettle Moraine, Wisconsin<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The outdoor adventure club's latest escapade brought us to Kettle Moraine State Park, Wisconsin (Nov. 19-21). Kettle Moraine is a beautiful place with a landscape carved by glaciers over thousands of years. This was, aside from a very frigid ultimate tournament at UW Whitewater in college, my first attempt at cold weather camping. The temperature on Friday night was supposed to get down to the mid 20s and we faced a high of only mid 30s on Saturday. I figured that with all the money I've spent on camping gear, it was time to put up or shut up. There were six brave souls in the group and we all managed pretty well for the most part (aside from some pretty vicious blisters and poor planning/bad map reading by myself).</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja9Mp5V3P5R37YTUo7b24lKf9_v4OpmLQdZZqI3UmNG9FYkBPCU_dpBMfrzGStth0QynRLAG983WoZxL1qoZn5WmYhpFRCQ31gyqRW73V8llFt5UdezXmc2sqSNXKA2GE5POS1TI9XeCDP/s1600/IMG_8055.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja9Mp5V3P5R37YTUo7b24lKf9_v4OpmLQdZZqI3UmNG9FYkBPCU_dpBMfrzGStth0QynRLAG983WoZxL1qoZn5WmYhpFRCQ31gyqRW73V8llFt5UdezXmc2sqSNXKA2GE5POS1TI9XeCDP/s320/IMG_8055.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> Cigars, Whiskey, and a fire with wet wood.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9GpwA57XAu5GvV2dqfwJxZPGZqWqDWVF4Lv8tCt0HlWzqvUVEGt8yU4dY4jV9csuHdiAsrcELulGhwYQHQJNF0nGuDmQAun1OG6xbeU5nSM5GH6i0BUHRnjSgRU-SfuykdVpzn757I9wN/s1600/DSCF0115.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9GpwA57XAu5GvV2dqfwJxZPGZqWqDWVF4Lv8tCt0HlWzqvUVEGt8yU4dY4jV9csuHdiAsrcELulGhwYQHQJNF0nGuDmQAun1OG6xbeU5nSM5GH6i0BUHRnjSgRU-SfuykdVpzn757I9wN/s320/DSCF0115.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> Oh yeah, and Spotted Cow</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQzcOjC0JWfAKfFRhr2jn7kXtvdUKmDYP2uVOTS1bOZ14_u7z67c1_LjDXML7VTSgY17K-XcCk3bl4FVTnYjn5dfPNCvo0HOuh8uW7S7bveDyOfdGJTP-JiAM1elPO3e7wEWSte4pm7pc8/s1600/DSCF0118.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQzcOjC0JWfAKfFRhr2jn7kXtvdUKmDYP2uVOTS1bOZ14_u7z67c1_LjDXML7VTSgY17K-XcCk3bl4FVTnYjn5dfPNCvo0HOuh8uW7S7bveDyOfdGJTP-JiAM1elPO3e7wEWSte4pm7pc8/s320/DSCF0118.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsqj88hC7cikAEgUGIYsWc3Um2fCsdjFh9Cr_8107v8XZ6c_iSPIw0B8yDKGofEiIrxC63896w6PkqUQ14BV-ylXmiJDdD7x5HO2ifyWA94iWCPg4UMgYpuGhl1699SmXQfAqrf0FElEq1/s1600/DSCF0131.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsqj88hC7cikAEgUGIYsWc3Um2fCsdjFh9Cr_8107v8XZ6c_iSPIw0B8yDKGofEiIrxC63896w6PkqUQ14BV-ylXmiJDdD7x5HO2ifyWA94iWCPg4UMgYpuGhl1699SmXQfAqrf0FElEq1/s320/DSCF0131.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> Farmer brought his HAM radio, but was unable to contact any extra-terrestrial life.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXWkLNF_vOYEOEOSh1MN_hNC-zXNZqHQcgphA-nfd6yIhXFQrAUCsH_9V62douZAcck2MktkKlO3-LJXOgwKFOOtSirjgTjDlDJz8Ucw7uER_HOe4zykvSqhYeCsJdtZpD9i_1kI2eNakg/s1600/DSCF0135.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXWkLNF_vOYEOEOSh1MN_hNC-zXNZqHQcgphA-nfd6yIhXFQrAUCsH_9V62douZAcck2MktkKlO3-LJXOgwKFOOtSirjgTjDlDJz8Ucw7uER_HOe4zykvSqhYeCsJdtZpD9i_1kI2eNakg/s320/DSCF0135.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> Did I mention it was the first weekend of deer (and apparently road sign) season?</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirVmr28IK1bYD7AqqZAMaZIjlI-Evz4qgtimC6lNyrsbGGfJ7YdGLwPRGHEEHmw0JM5bA4TdOvjvDMVwJN-d4hgwdzbA_lX-8LGkymCEzUtFU2XbpaiqxOjjxx7EpMgr9EPpMR3R40ZXD3/s1600/DSCF0139.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirVmr28IK1bYD7AqqZAMaZIjlI-Evz4qgtimC6lNyrsbGGfJ7YdGLwPRGHEEHmw0JM5bA4TdOvjvDMVwJN-d4hgwdzbA_lX-8LGkymCEzUtFU2XbpaiqxOjjxx7EpMgr9EPpMR3R40ZXD3/s320/DSCF0139.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfapLxHL1XE3JodmhB4rgFR3uQISCl4t9I2bvmw3WTmYJFcJKwTw3Lz3FI3upjeEow9mpn9GRINWDMlbSfViblLJRIJ7D1pd4xvd5fY7rWk-yYINKZ8j658KUjG5iAWGzJ7ypXwQRg_Vz6/s1600/IMG_8061.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfapLxHL1XE3JodmhB4rgFR3uQISCl4t9I2bvmw3WTmYJFcJKwTw3Lz3FI3upjeEow9mpn9GRINWDMlbSfViblLJRIJ7D1pd4xvd5fY7rWk-yYINKZ8j658KUjG5iAWGzJ7ypXwQRg_Vz6/s320/IMG_8061.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> Look, Matt's almost as tall as Sarah!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyeE1pFpKTaKthyphenhyphenDSj5FuvKJLvMLB9jj8V7mEaw2mlvB4WYh_Knt4F2ACtz-xAq7O5wz8ODVNeOBiWoGkU_m6Nrgnyb44SXsE6osP5-egLFD5zh_Au0wcgltXvO9kpWjMNZI7qlJVUMvw0/s1600/IMG_8067.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyeE1pFpKTaKthyphenhyphenDSj5FuvKJLvMLB9jj8V7mEaw2mlvB4WYh_Knt4F2ACtz-xAq7O5wz8ODVNeOBiWoGkU_m6Nrgnyb44SXsE6osP5-egLFD5zh_Au0wcgltXvO9kpWjMNZI7qlJVUMvw0/s320/IMG_8067.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> This is what I looked like when I found out Farmer brought Ginger snaps.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMysIzVxY4N5dItK9f8v-3qmqo_s90bjXnOe8w__wpnpiD-2oW0sZ0KPNnj-EIbEIiueHjmO9nK_DzCTwY1z5-S3diEDAxoXvyZpYWNRGL3qHoxV2ZiwMl084uadi66naj7et0Fl9rZN11/s1600/DSCF0159.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMysIzVxY4N5dItK9f8v-3qmqo_s90bjXnOe8w__wpnpiD-2oW0sZ0KPNnj-EIbEIiueHjmO9nK_DzCTwY1z5-S3diEDAxoXvyZpYWNRGL3qHoxV2ZiwMl084uadi66naj7et0Fl9rZN11/s320/DSCF0159.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> Matt Woodhead and I made chili for night two. I thought we would have had enough for lunch the next day as well, but we ate it all. I guess when you don't eat lunch and you hike 10 miles you get extra hungry.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHgeANDAFyvpGcqaixn4HKTuLR0bKcTKX05nrlBD6ejsAjJQnL-ORDkOTet8nMP5jWBhSFQSNALeSECTTqNoEERdWVHBb53fdrhOwZOUKJ29FlN7rcbU0FgP5dImTp-cexJOR3homKaOHI/s1600/DSCF0170.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHgeANDAFyvpGcqaixn4HKTuLR0bKcTKX05nrlBD6ejsAjJQnL-ORDkOTet8nMP5jWBhSFQSNALeSECTTqNoEERdWVHBb53fdrhOwZOUKJ29FlN7rcbU0FgP5dImTp-cexJOR3homKaOHI/s320/DSCF0170.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> We were out of water and the well near our shelter was closed due to contamination so we had to resort to Dark Lord. Thank you Matt!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqGt3PCufo6w3IQAdg6CYEBC2iy2Y9KnuUNbgqqt065wravYFyIj8CPecXUsvEwBz_ezBuTlv823Knnj6EY_TLpYtSaK51TTJlmga3HBDfOyUE-fB9SepOaAd5uPqRkUOeN-ojT4Sufv_-/s1600/DSCF0183.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqGt3PCufo6w3IQAdg6CYEBC2iy2Y9KnuUNbgqqt065wravYFyIj8CPecXUsvEwBz_ezBuTlv823Knnj6EY_TLpYtSaK51TTJlmga3HBDfOyUE-fB9SepOaAd5uPqRkUOeN-ojT4Sufv_-/s320/DSCF0183.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> 5 or so miles into our hike out on Sunday, we made it to water. This tasted like liquid iron. But it was some of the best water I've tasted (which I think was influenced by the fact that I hadn't had any since the day before). We also met yet another extremely friendly Wisconsin resident at the water pump, which further proves our theory that everyone in Wisconsin is the nicest person ever.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB7bX6OykJBSS4mB8rzUnQfGTtJTo4f3EZsyq923pVuxlKqMdeHPlPrhecBojhaU6LdCWyWCGmJRtYnmJRz6JtsPILC11k2io9QeSy2bFavKmYr-SsBnyGSHZg-eef00ztY_F3WtA-2AKi/s1600/DSCF0192.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB7bX6OykJBSS4mB8rzUnQfGTtJTo4f3EZsyq923pVuxlKqMdeHPlPrhecBojhaU6LdCWyWCGmJRtYnmJRz6JtsPILC11k2io9QeSy2bFavKmYr-SsBnyGSHZg-eef00ztY_F3WtA-2AKi/s320/DSCF0192.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> Victory beers at the cars.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghpSzZQjNxULAuBssNGlGDC4Wv7o5VExA2IQZrJT4xFjGwwfC43xusg3sRvSnQ_ohXOdVcfnm6YFHEKArHkdGS-fhUC8MO-ntPFVqMrEZ9a-oO_qyEshKrSVsfYmmtY2WmAPjojvZpz_nC/s1600/DSCF0194.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghpSzZQjNxULAuBssNGlGDC4Wv7o5VExA2IQZrJT4xFjGwwfC43xusg3sRvSnQ_ohXOdVcfnm6YFHEKArHkdGS-fhUC8MO-ntPFVqMrEZ9a-oO_qyEshKrSVsfYmmtY2WmAPjojvZpz_nC/s320/DSCF0194.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> Did I mention it was 50 degrees and FOGGY all day on Sunday. Visibility was probably down to about 30 yards.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-eUjdLn3gCA-iM8ywmZbjjlouj3q1-kpF9Ctfw4D44DUQXbh9ZHjWrxpfIQ31qj5CYenLGgeV_ihBytcuqhHOBVRSk77o4xmLDSNTz2-r3QKwV2PohgJTfZMfNC7V56YPJQikRmHUT68p/s1600/DSCF0196.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-eUjdLn3gCA-iM8ywmZbjjlouj3q1-kpF9Ctfw4D44DUQXbh9ZHjWrxpfIQ31qj5CYenLGgeV_ihBytcuqhHOBVRSk77o4xmLDSNTz2-r3QKwV2PohgJTfZMfNC7V56YPJQikRmHUT68p/s320/DSCF0196.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE0WyVyIzxPCTBeGXRReV1eW4xenTTJuVLc7CsHU0WPnz4S06Vo9FbvvxJmgWOhw_rHmEX6_8V8TugZOw6Z_H_7h5uieDvfMf1JDQrLXlIgk4XnNpFSpd54AB4OIizu7kRnSYX145VqEFn/s1600/DSCF0200.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE0WyVyIzxPCTBeGXRReV1eW4xenTTJuVLc7CsHU0WPnz4S06Vo9FbvvxJmgWOhw_rHmEX6_8V8TugZOw6Z_H_7h5uieDvfMf1JDQrLXlIgk4XnNpFSpd54AB4OIizu7kRnSYX145VqEFn/s320/DSCF0200.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> More victory beers and a pot luck at the Fifth Quarter. Yes, this bar was having a pot luck for the Packer's game. Sloppy Joes, string cheese dipped in cocktail sauce, taco-bean dip = Awesome.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQGYxepggEGzAbD_JxDY3MAZE_c7tc9pxfWEuak-ihiPBLqm5xkk5dAr6MIbfiidpti4LdSZ1z18tJe0E1AwlMbVrpyDjJ5CMfhvpGSi-gW9UtEZoSIVXWQuyThnDh2_9nhU5YyfbBwGEh/s1600/DSCF0204.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQGYxepggEGzAbD_JxDY3MAZE_c7tc9pxfWEuak-ihiPBLqm5xkk5dAr6MIbfiidpti4LdSZ1z18tJe0E1AwlMbVrpyDjJ5CMfhvpGSi-gW9UtEZoSIVXWQuyThnDh2_9nhU5YyfbBwGEh/s320/DSCF0204.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Matt cheated on Sarah with some Packer fans and she got super jealous.</div>Colynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10870029250952620394noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1992632069965798428.post-30629779960212831602010-10-19T13:23:00.000-07:002010-10-19T13:23:07.522-07:00Outdoor Adventure Club Weekend at the Indiana DunesI've been trying to make sure I am justifying all the money I spend on outdoor gear so I put together a little camping trip to the Indiana Dunes National Lakeshore last weekend. I went there in September with my school (for the middle school retreat) and found it to be particularly beautiful and interesting. I also am incredibly fond of jumping down dunes. It's great to be able to get away to some pretty sweet natural setting without driving more than two hours, and considering that the National Park is located between a steel mill and two power plants, the whole place is truly incredible. They claim (I say it as if they aren't for real) that there are eight separate ecosystems within the park (dunes, oak savannas, swamps, bogs, marshes, prairies, rivers and forests). We were able to cover most of these in the two short days we spent there and each one was truly beautiful. I am hoping to get out again before the year is over for a weekend in Kettle Morraine, Wisconsin and possibly stay in a yurt or a teepee.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_hcN_JdC1mlge47hhWMSPHCw9g26Ht0EKBWPct6egypgoc6WF-D7wMG2-uEtfLEGHi55CVET8D2HullJNqcsVVfejxxOLLhhrDdyapTGmkIqItzfKEVdgmT5z__zO4ogrLbIneLLM1a-j/s1600/DSCF1624.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_hcN_JdC1mlge47hhWMSPHCw9g26Ht0EKBWPct6egypgoc6WF-D7wMG2-uEtfLEGHi55CVET8D2HullJNqcsVVfejxxOLLhhrDdyapTGmkIqItzfKEVdgmT5z__zO4ogrLbIneLLM1a-j/s320/DSCF1624.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">One of the power plants in the area, as viewed from Mt. Baldy</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEnkV0Iu-BQgdRTP-7xRF8Q-RolhovDV0tTzzLE65Z-4njYro7pevsFmyBhf7jhaF3Om-X1DCL-mtgsxwPnlztW4iuT6SzSDVVOa-3KEpr0CzfzRTj_nIBE1UjtYLqCluIJTB74PfU0EyY/s1600/DSCF1626.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEnkV0Iu-BQgdRTP-7xRF8Q-RolhovDV0tTzzLE65Z-4njYro7pevsFmyBhf7jhaF3Om-X1DCL-mtgsxwPnlztW4iuT6SzSDVVOa-3KEpr0CzfzRTj_nIBE1UjtYLqCluIJTB74PfU0EyY/s320/DSCF1626.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> Falling off of Mt. Baldy</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmdKQ36kFdER8ZzaIzWkO7Y5A394BEkqq-Ogbqdda6_T93vY1kuA2P9aJr3vJgqdtQwdazGaFkPwvDFgIIzhGsKiAKYc2Db9KOCpgbyci5ZBK3wYcam02VqNnIY4pN88Y3vG-GkYEbVSzt/s1600/DSCF1630.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmdKQ36kFdER8ZzaIzWkO7Y5A394BEkqq-Ogbqdda6_T93vY1kuA2P9aJr3vJgqdtQwdazGaFkPwvDFgIIzhGsKiAKYc2Db9KOCpgbyci5ZBK3wYcam02VqNnIY4pN88Y3vG-GkYEbVSzt/s320/DSCF1630.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm7lw8FvTT6LjogIsOtIaJF_PlA9F2JAwVozdQAxEDtnvoyXF1AgE46MOYG5FHTpuJ7ZA156bm_AN09N5RmvGU5ChKwLCM-EA4MnsI039tdY-HT_lnp5wXAcNjzmGf1J5vtgndqAbxxHdr/s1600/DSCF1639.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm7lw8FvTT6LjogIsOtIaJF_PlA9F2JAwVozdQAxEDtnvoyXF1AgE46MOYG5FHTpuJ7ZA156bm_AN09N5RmvGU5ChKwLCM-EA4MnsI039tdY-HT_lnp5wXAcNjzmGf1J5vtgndqAbxxHdr/s320/DSCF1639.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmA1A8X5iWB1ClYEAmaJ2Y-glILmaM4XKB2nntq-kJFqcErhFWPFoFxZFGl9hC9MD4ATo2NmKtbS-OC11Mn2mMngvnNvwrkTDDhcDzNAGfqwOnJ3XPeTU6w0E5f-KaBnPQeEy-JXx5Plvj/s1600/DSCF1640.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmA1A8X5iWB1ClYEAmaJ2Y-glILmaM4XKB2nntq-kJFqcErhFWPFoFxZFGl9hC9MD4ATo2NmKtbS-OC11Mn2mMngvnNvwrkTDDhcDzNAGfqwOnJ3XPeTU6w0E5f-KaBnPQeEy-JXx5Plvj/s320/DSCF1640.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioWVYrWh7juQc3KEH2NM_PJBEgowTlWwOaSeF1pUVYFk7YMz9ZtddZCaxHlVjBeZV74bjKcBS0dV9-FuHaqqrLsycg23C5lUjNXIQBVD8A5B78o4HDnbbcMW53N7K55Q0Gg1GkYbPuWbeD/s1600/DSCF1642.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioWVYrWh7juQc3KEH2NM_PJBEgowTlWwOaSeF1pUVYFk7YMz9ZtddZCaxHlVjBeZV74bjKcBS0dV9-FuHaqqrLsycg23C5lUjNXIQBVD8A5B78o4HDnbbcMW53N7K55Q0Gg1GkYbPuWbeD/s320/DSCF1642.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> Trash we found on the beach</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQtaIUHwwKUo25rGmWXwVjMbjZHaBtzz4DrXdBj04Rq9jKpxnfj937iQRqMN6T83o-9UA2JI7qby1hU22XPH734R-clumkDqeL8XF7haopbP88szX6EC1o_7adloetl-Ec-6h6K9Ux2t5G/s1600/DSCF1660.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQtaIUHwwKUo25rGmWXwVjMbjZHaBtzz4DrXdBj04Rq9jKpxnfj937iQRqMN6T83o-9UA2JI7qby1hU22XPH734R-clumkDqeL8XF7haopbP88szX6EC1o_7adloetl-Ec-6h6K9Ux2t5G/s320/DSCF1660.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> Dune burpees!!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9-AwrALjcxr_E_SW_mds4AHb-8qNz5k_RfgLmF22lHVsZYOsFCRnrEFV4AU7CTXsbkTIU457sA8_NiY6gsM1-Cn9n0WuoAa2rg-_RQdvBVjj0deP3CfbWzhsrIsYV0ioJBASgFO2s0ccc/s1600/DSCF1667.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9-AwrALjcxr_E_SW_mds4AHb-8qNz5k_RfgLmF22lHVsZYOsFCRnrEFV4AU7CTXsbkTIU457sA8_NiY6gsM1-Cn9n0WuoAa2rg-_RQdvBVjj0deP3CfbWzhsrIsYV0ioJBASgFO2s0ccc/s320/DSCF1667.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> This is how ladies walk through the oak savannah</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHmeNDo5a56G-dFHrdPQ5Lsk18PpSjL_3vMy2PO4tOS70Hi2kJtaaB-dgcPkCUtudOZI0iDrqiHT8y8ozJy_vgd1qZomdU_GQ1TMnDzoRTqh7JoSq52jKqBN7NpsXkkhic3PSF1Bd8Qm0f/s1600/DSCF1694.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHmeNDo5a56G-dFHrdPQ5Lsk18PpSjL_3vMy2PO4tOS70Hi2kJtaaB-dgcPkCUtudOZI0iDrqiHT8y8ozJy_vgd1qZomdU_GQ1TMnDzoRTqh7JoSq52jKqBN7NpsXkkhic3PSF1Bd8Qm0f/s320/DSCF1694.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> S'mores with tortilla chips, giant marshmallows and dark chocolate = best idea ever</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZBM7ayz0B4pi7oXlAfHum5gnC5O3Ku0A1xpLKppRyGmsHZJAjy5PPxy9eZ3GAFUyApn6DXINLP-_t9wx3bRe2XjBWj1DWcdiZM7hbmcZXxCwCdUQmc3p8YxPONPkrSRuApHSsq9Gr3hdc/s1600/DSCF1697.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZBM7ayz0B4pi7oXlAfHum5gnC5O3Ku0A1xpLKppRyGmsHZJAjy5PPxy9eZ3GAFUyApn6DXINLP-_t9wx3bRe2XjBWj1DWcdiZM7hbmcZXxCwCdUQmc3p8YxPONPkrSRuApHSsq9Gr3hdc/s320/DSCF1697.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> Coffee in bed.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_gTpwnC0s6jh8fOuMJSHpALkkjp4uLIGYBQQpdBJ9QKqtR0f63rRNISFpN7ZLjue1LWXNbIahJxbnRfKD4wnEXSTPVwyYxou8lkKTnOI1BEjsLp_Xia2vQUgzBQM2fYD2vFPpNhL5slHg/s1600/DSCF1702.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_gTpwnC0s6jh8fOuMJSHpALkkjp4uLIGYBQQpdBJ9QKqtR0f63rRNISFpN7ZLjue1LWXNbIahJxbnRfKD4wnEXSTPVwyYxou8lkKTnOI1BEjsLp_Xia2vQUgzBQM2fYD2vFPpNhL5slHg/s320/DSCF1702.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> Lake Burpees!</div><div style="text-align: center;">The water was beautiful in October!!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidG1xZujgDIQ5apN86HPmiA_f3Nizk8qWoy-2UvyJRhaio-5L21OSaV5L3i3iSwVnOMrcynZdNe9oCC2Am4HCM-s2x3MhECcueGXp1JIS0vpPEWTg8sFU9sWOoK-25Cax3FwTsqccCVC-2/s1600/DSCF1705.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidG1xZujgDIQ5apN86HPmiA_f3Nizk8qWoy-2UvyJRhaio-5L21OSaV5L3i3iSwVnOMrcynZdNe9oCC2Am4HCM-s2x3MhECcueGXp1JIS0vpPEWTg8sFU9sWOoK-25Cax3FwTsqccCVC-2/s320/DSCF1705.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">And of course, jumping down the dunes!!</div>Colynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10870029250952620394noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1992632069965798428.post-62943120528434859182010-09-30T07:39:00.000-07:002010-09-30T07:39:59.314-07:00Adorable/Awkward/Hilarious/WTF?! child moment of the dayThis actually happened a few days ago, but is well worth sharing with those of you who might be reading my thoughts here...<br />
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I almost didn't post this because I didn't want my blog to turn into a collection of fart stories, but who cares! I'll offer you this disclaimer:<br />
If you appreciate good old fart jokes, keep reading, if not... you're probably lying, everyone likes fart jokes.<br />
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So I'm proctoring the standardized testing that is done at my school (standardized tests are now done on the computer, and since I work in the tech lab, I have the pleasure of watching kids take tests for two weeks). Anyway, I was reading the instructions to the test, which I have to repeat for every class that takes a test, and upon finishing my speech, someone very close by rips a rather loud, and pretty powerful fart. Bear in mind the fact that this was the seventh and eight grade group and, for once in their lives, they were completely silent at that moment. I braced myself for the eminent laughter and teasing that was bound to ensue, but nothing happened! I did my best to hide my disgust (this was a juicy one after all) and my laughter and managed to sit down and bury my face in my computer. Just when I thought we had dodged a bullet and the kids were settling into their test, I hear another fart. This one was at least as loud and came with at least as much force as the first. Still no reaction from the crowd, amazing. To make a very long (and uncomfortable) story short, this seventh grade girl sitting no more than four feet away from me proceeded to thunderously pass gas in a room with no windows and limited ventilation, filled with her classmates who were to all to be stuck there for at least 45 minutes, upwards of nine times! I had the dean of students come over and pull her out after number nine or ten, and when asked if she was feeling ok, she replied, "Yes, why?" And when she was told why we suspected that her stomach was upset, she replied with, "Oh! Do you think I was being disruptive?" WTF?!!<br />
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She came back and finished the rest of her test without farting.Colynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10870029250952620394noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1992632069965798428.post-66619493096413471922010-09-02T14:40:00.000-07:002010-09-02T14:40:54.899-07:00Somebody kept farting on the train...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN3Pb7DYgtFASWtbwIIuj3HoIv0FDlKsKQq00alESGFRoxPdwHoJzcnPaaTc5f9S7Tf3A7vabiT6EF6O1TP7tX5qXH4OtIm7zW4qOM1pc9Tt_UpU2DE8sfojDUtFKFSEi8g23fHrPAU-_s/s1600/flatulence-study.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN3Pb7DYgtFASWtbwIIuj3HoIv0FDlKsKQq00alESGFRoxPdwHoJzcnPaaTc5f9S7Tf3A7vabiT6EF6O1TP7tX5qXH4OtIm7zW4qOM1pc9Tt_UpU2DE8sfojDUtFKFSEi8g23fHrPAU-_s/s320/flatulence-study.gif" /></a></div>Ok, so everyone knows I'm not the best smelling dude in the world (I prefer to think of my scent as an acquired taste), but at least I try to be courteous to other people when we're in close quarters. Anyway, the story goes like this:<br />
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I was having a lovely time NOT driving home from work (riding the Metra train). I happened to take an earlier train than usual and it happened to be very full. I found a seat in the upper deck, as I call it, broke out a book and began reading. Not two pages into my read, I detected a very potent oder in the air. It was one of those seriously thick ones, you know, the ones you can't avoid because they pretty much have a TASTE in addition to a smell. I'm not sure if it was because of some seasonal allergies or not, but I swear my eyes started burning at the same time. It was bad. No big deal right? Sometimes you just have to let one go, I can understand that, I can't say I sympathize, but I understand. Well, wouldn't you know it, no sooner had the not so well vented train car dispelled the oder than I practically saw another cloud of noxious gas rising up from the seats below. Just when I thought the war was over, another salvo came rising up. At this point I started looking around for the culprit. No one was fessing up. No giggling, no sneering, no over innocent-looking people avoiding my stare. I did notice a few people doing the same subtle searching I was. I hoped they didn't think I looked guilty. I mean, not to say that I wasn't impressed, this took some serious talent, but it wasn't my brand, and it wouldn't be right to be credited for this.<br />
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I never figured out who dealt it, but I just want to see A. if anyone reads this anymore, and B. what your thoughts might be on public flatulence. When is it acceptable if ever? When is it taboo? Is it one of those "if no one finds out who did it, then it's ok" kind of things? What would have been the appropriate punishment for such a person? Or have they suffered enough with the pressure they had to deal with before their "release?"Colynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10870029250952620394noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1992632069965798428.post-7227588440078456362010-03-12T11:08:00.000-08:002010-03-12T12:00:03.118-08:00Holy Freakin' Woolly Mammoth Batman!!<div><br /></div><div><br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzOaPZsGeuIWzJtNiXVwQf3XEB3pFt7gZBS0M7ZbQEgNGdlzlF2vMsrENi9HHpgpKc05Q4mSXNquNdtjQeDdg' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dxH_CigoAQkSFPNMKj5S1ElLjpcuuueUONh7z9yZxsZ-datVYT_ceHrFeSSZtlt7R-aEtvTBDivbmT9Ghrgjw' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><div><br /></div><div>And then there's one of me holding a tarantula. She was very soft and gentle!</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwNzsydFTNqIeH0zMv1aDij3BEqOXX5S_rPB3t_egvHBKF3Lm-0tTSy0Al2jpONxChF-eXTMIkrOX81uJCz-Q' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><div><br /></div><div>Also, there was a baby Woolly Mammoth. No, not a fossilized skeleton, a perfectly preserved, baby freaking Mammoth from about 20,000 years ago!!!</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5Vyk5agpg2enZsMmf8i4dGlB9B9DItiJFCGGuRUkqwsZsk6sV-bsc9eQm0JeHtCgplneCkcNtaDZJ63yHDRvlGuMsX1EnUaV990lIRUa4P_69RT4-o_QltnME34i9sZX0cf47aSDsgoOD/s1600-h/DSCN8716.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5Vyk5agpg2enZsMmf8i4dGlB9B9DItiJFCGGuRUkqwsZsk6sV-bsc9eQm0JeHtCgplneCkcNtaDZJ63yHDRvlGuMsX1EnUaV990lIRUa4P_69RT4-o_QltnME34i9sZX0cf47aSDsgoOD/s400/DSCN8716.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5447829402503799234" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2RL9l85mFSqQaIhGgaKd8Hw7NsnBzxaAExxtANF-qTK3NypuCjGP0Q6XvVeinTe1anAUvHIhtkhrGNlc5X6pGKeoHVVpT6Lm3KO719pOFxngc4_bvvPuJezEMAww6u0o7UubrAhJf0s4K/s1600-h/DSCN8715.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2RL9l85mFSqQaIhGgaKd8Hw7NsnBzxaAExxtANF-qTK3NypuCjGP0Q6XvVeinTe1anAUvHIhtkhrGNlc5X6pGKeoHVVpT6Lm3KO719pOFxngc4_bvvPuJezEMAww6u0o7UubrAhJf0s4K/s400/DSCN8715.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5447829394998545842" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div>She was incredible!</div><div><br /></div><div>I've also always wanted to see someone riding one of these:</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwvMl_gMeduzMs1r9hxbTQsZeQDJ65PccnoZzCl4X0LMSOmcWatpjEuFOrOC-OgtmPm59ogFZCgrp_TnpevOQ' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><div><br /></div><div>Thanks to Florida for hooking us up BIG TIME!! Even though I had to do some things I wasn't proud of with Morley to get a ticket over his girlfriend... But I'd say it was worth it in the end.</div>Colynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10870029250952620394noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1992632069965798428.post-57447879507544051772010-02-26T12:51:00.000-08:002010-02-26T13:06:53.188-08:00Adorable/Awkward/Hilarious/WTF?! child moment of the day<div>This may fall under "Things to do with 4 year olds on a Friday afternoon when you want to entertain both them and yourself," but either way, I GOT STICKERED!!!</div><div><br /></div><div>It was in celebration of the 100th day of school, which was actually yesterday, but I wasn't available for stickering yesterday. Remember when 100 was THE BIGGEST NUMBER EVER?!! I do, and I was reminded today when the preschoolers, very gently to my surprise, attached 100 stickers to me as I sat in a chair and submitted to their cuteness. I'm sure I'll have a chuckle later on when I reach in the washing machine and pull out the fifty or so pieces of paper saying "Great Job!" "Shine!" (with image of smiling sun) "WOW!" "KEEP IT NEAT!" and "SUPER!"</div><div><br /></div><div>Also, one of the preschoolers personally counted to 100 in front of me, showing that he could, in fact, complete the almost impossible task of counting that high.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi64cGYM0ul2DhD58IAL0UgXQHVWa_QweZB-IxTf22PxQ1xu0-tCvOWInHWtxeZ_zT3awBXpGus3dPKz60leh77XngrnIAqq2fnTsEmSQ3yPwUXxh-bTh4NltBhEZ0SrTzUpB9qTcr1aGB4/s1600-h/Photo+on+2010-02-26+at+14.46.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi64cGYM0ul2DhD58IAL0UgXQHVWa_QweZB-IxTf22PxQ1xu0-tCvOWInHWtxeZ_zT3awBXpGus3dPKz60leh77XngrnIAqq2fnTsEmSQ3yPwUXxh-bTh4NltBhEZ0SrTzUpB9qTcr1aGB4/s320/Photo+on+2010-02-26+at+14.46.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5442658215652284754" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoiWEswZjAUbwACNmhghbHWPmOPIdkXYwzzTAJFnekI9JxAFowWrOSofKjIfbszM3J-wapcJoQn5Unx-8bK1PCiJbtB48WbG93oEPp2PA4u75YKGqOtXljX5jwooTFPsQcHqOrf9E7DXpO/s1600-h/Photo+on+2010-02-26+at+14.46+%233.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoiWEswZjAUbwACNmhghbHWPmOPIdkXYwzzTAJFnekI9JxAFowWrOSofKjIfbszM3J-wapcJoQn5Unx-8bK1PCiJbtB48WbG93oEPp2PA4u75YKGqOtXljX5jwooTFPsQcHqOrf9E7DXpO/s320/Photo+on+2010-02-26+at+14.46+%233.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5442658205369504018" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5Ku7Du4ahHgZn7v3lVVv1Js0-8jC1OJemeL7f-cQfnDcpPdtijLXfodYzcmrRcxHXXfmK-o8Jf_SkViyuuTPhAM4dkX1Q8RiCz8QJMwgNwi9vlOtu1Xs77hvZoqMxfPbpuEDjqwyjAU1c/s1600-h/Photo+on+2010-02-26+at+14.46+%232.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5Ku7Du4ahHgZn7v3lVVv1Js0-8jC1OJemeL7f-cQfnDcpPdtijLXfodYzcmrRcxHXXfmK-o8Jf_SkViyuuTPhAM4dkX1Q8RiCz8QJMwgNwi9vlOtu1Xs77hvZoqMxfPbpuEDjqwyjAU1c/s320/Photo+on+2010-02-26+at+14.46+%232.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5442658200837251362" /></a><br /><div><br /></div>Colynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10870029250952620394noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1992632069965798428.post-50870170689623135412010-02-26T07:12:00.000-08:002010-02-26T12:51:12.615-08:00ReadingI am currently taking a course in "teaching reading" in grad school. Despite some shortcomings in my expectations from the teacher, I am finding the class interesting in that it is making me think back on how I've developed (or in some ways, not developed) my ability to read. I remember really disliking having to read books in school. Even the books who's stories I really enjoyed. Reading seems to be one of the only pleasures in life that I am able to really slow down and enjoy. Perhaps this is better said: reading is one of the only pleasures in life that I am not able to consume at an enormous rate. I remember enjoying being read to very much. I remember memorizing Dr. Seuss books and not letting my parents get one word wrong when they read them to me. I remember laughing, crying, blah, blah, blah. But I just HATE reading on a deadline, and it shows.<div><br /></div><div>Right now, I think I have a book mark in four books, all of which I have been reading for much longer than I care to admit for how short they are. I'm always impressed with those people who can sit down and read for a whole day, just knocking our book after book. I am not one of those people. I'm not sure what it is, but when I am really enjoying a book. I like that I can get my satisfaction in and still know that there will be more the next time I pick it up. There's certainly also a part of me that can't sit still that long staring at a book, which is really too bad, because I don't seem to have that trouble when it comes to tv, even when there's nothing on. Either way, I know that when I get a really good book in my hands, I feel this sense of disappointment when it ends.</div><div><br /></div><div>I've heard other people talk about how much they just want to get to the end of a book. They just power through and move on as soon as they can. It certainly doesn't work that way with me. I mean, everything else in life, I seem to have no problem taking in excess if it gives me some sort of pleasure. I'll be slurping down a delicious beer or glass of wine or inhaling a tasty (and often expensive) meal without pause, but when it comes to a good story, I (perhaps due to my lacking ability) seem to be able to steady the pace and "enjoy the journey" with ease. I often rate how much I like a book by how much I wish it wasn't over upon reading the last page.</div>Colynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10870029250952620394noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1992632069965798428.post-60516310461559391412010-02-05T14:50:00.000-08:002010-02-05T14:57:18.490-08:00Adorable/Awkward/Hilarious/WTF?! child moment of the dayThis could be the greatest WTF moment yet. During an after school "Future Problem Solvers" session in the tech lab where the students were researching disaster recovery in third world countries, one of the seventh grade girls asked (I wrote this down so that I would get it right word for word), "Is there a shipping fee on orphans?"<div><br /></div><div>Wow.</div><div><br /></div><div>Too soon? Too soon?</div>Colynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10870029250952620394noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1992632069965798428.post-56031849495308234232010-02-03T11:50:00.000-08:002010-02-05T14:50:40.728-08:00adorable/Awkward/Hilarious/WTF?! child moment of the daySo this little boy (a first grader) comes up to me during lunch to inform me that some of the people sitting at his table at lunch just said that god is a made up concept and anyone who believes in god is stupid - yes, the lunchroom conversations at this school involve religion and philosophy mixed with the usual shit talking. He went on to say that they were certainly entitled to their opinion but that he "is a Christian" and found it offensive that they would say that kind of thing. He also mentioned that he knew that "they are Christians" and that they ought to be more respectful of their religion. Finishing his statement he asked me if I would go over there and tell them that what they were saying is wrong and that god does exist.<div><br /></div><div>Sometimes I think these kids take on a little too much emotional baggage...</div>Colynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10870029250952620394noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1992632069965798428.post-81913149059736575642010-01-29T12:26:00.000-08:002010-01-29T12:37:47.398-08:00Adorable/Awkward/Hilarious/WTF?! child moment of the day<div>So a bunch of kindergartners are in the tech lab using the paint program (killing time while their teacher grades stuff) one of the girls wanted to tell me that she went to a Greek dinner/dance with her father. While she was explaining what they did and that her Greek last name was... she said some word with a thousand syllables that sounded pretty Greek... right after she said her last name, some other boy from across the room pipes in: "Eh, it's all Greek to me."</div><div><br /></div><div>Not the world's greatest joke by any means, but this was a four year old! Also, the timing was incredible, he hit his cue right on the mark, no pause, no hesitation, and delivered the line without stumbling. Nice job, kid.</div>Colynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10870029250952620394noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1992632069965798428.post-53735925523006043432010-01-20T11:26:00.000-08:002010-01-20T12:14:38.831-08:0011 to 17<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoF-TWJnH6TCoQacAhpa5UbyFf_VRFJbqrKcn8TgBzduvU5dD2G3iXG6tMSoMD8oaWkOPOgnfmIP-RBrFHPTsUiOMJ0OOzf9cUcgOBJmm_Xp5HRW2h0DNoYl-FasFSgiCYlGkJzE3H0AcG/s1600-h/IMG_2219.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoF-TWJnH6TCoQacAhpa5UbyFf_VRFJbqrKcn8TgBzduvU5dD2G3iXG6tMSoMD8oaWkOPOgnfmIP-RBrFHPTsUiOMJ0OOzf9cUcgOBJmm_Xp5HRW2h0DNoYl-FasFSgiCYlGkJzE3H0AcG/s320/IMG_2219.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428917979115203938" /></a><br />That was the score of the first Student vs. Faculty basketball game held today, Wednesday, January 20th 2010 at the school where I work. It was a brilliant game and one truly deserving to be played on today, the 118th anniversary of the first game of basketball played in a YMCA training session in Springfield, Massachusetts. According to one of my colleagues, it was 118 years ago today that James Naismith, a Canadian originally, came up with the game based on an old game he played back up in Canada called "Duck on a Rock." Knowing nothing about Duck on a Rock I can only assume, using stereotypes and prejudices, that it involved shooting ducks while they roosted on rocks and then trying to toss their stiff, lifeless bodies into peach baskets while bouncing a hockey puck off of a curling stone at one's side, all the while singing "Oh Canada" in a booming voice.<div><br /></div><div>However, I digress. This post is really about beating young children in sports in order to make us older people feel better about our selves and to teach these kids that losing's ok and that it will always be the outcome when they go up against us. I must hand it to the students though, they did go on a bit of a run including the only 3-point basket of the day and several second chances converted due to aggressive offensive rebounding. I'll also give a shout out to their ball handling skills, lord knows I couldn't dribble as well as they do when I was their age (and, in the case of some of these kids, I still can't). </div>Colynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10870029250952620394noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1992632069965798428.post-56338889135391107852010-01-12T13:18:00.000-08:002010-01-12T13:48:27.704-08:00Winter Super Adventure Club!<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: underline;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: underline;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;">Not to be confused with the South Park version, we actually go out into the frigid Chicago winter and seek out the meager outdoor adventures the midwest provides because we love to explore and be outside.</div><div><br /></div><div>This was the first adventure I was a part of the activities and I look forward to continuing my involvement. We embarked early Sunday afternoon for Herrick Lake, a Dupage county forest preserve on a search for snow shoeing and cross country skiing. Farmer and I had never snow shoed before so we chose to give that a try while the rest of the group chose the much more high speed activity known as cross country skiing. What I learned from the experience is that snow shoeing, while cool and effective in deep powder, on the packed and groomed trails of Herrick Lake, they simply made walking more funny looking. All was not lost, however, Farmer and I did cut through the woods a bit where the powder was deeper.</div><div><br /></div><div>Afterward we stopped at REI where I got a sweet new coffee/hot beverage mug.</div><div><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOf1t2SMMrvrBUEqzRyDNX-mW37Ml46yV2VKaYnbZyWoe2vv-02j68fHJUZVc8uNapKzZRUIwkLkCY4o18ZSLUoZGGmnuCOXsav8jIjVSWHkQ_fApt892lfrfDiE73OTQMelWtzkqRACv7/s1600-h/Photo+on+2010-01-11+at+12.27+%233.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOf1t2SMMrvrBUEqzRyDNX-mW37Ml46yV2VKaYnbZyWoe2vv-02j68fHJUZVc8uNapKzZRUIwkLkCY4o18ZSLUoZGGmnuCOXsav8jIjVSWHkQ_fApt892lfrfDiE73OTQMelWtzkqRACv7/s320/Photo+on+2010-01-11+at+12.27+%233.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425971498464027346" /></a><br /></div><div>Then we went over to DAMITZ!!!'s house for some delicious tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches (which I ordered with mini weenies inside, pretty good call if you ask me). I was able to make it home just before my food coma completely set in, and felt wonderfully satisfied. Thanks to Ms. DAMITZ!!! for putting it together! Let's do it again soon!<br /><div><br /><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhywVDOxqwoVN2ZqDbp2hEpLCvStode1-SJWYLFbpuKi1F0xmRNF_3CwW9QTc0mv4DWRrneJCkBU-PqLY9wdgPtAm7MlaVlVoB_tmQszCBuKpeX8c24Qd4519eqhYa4bn9U9kOatrgYdlqW/s1600-h/DSCN8541.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhywVDOxqwoVN2ZqDbp2hEpLCvStode1-SJWYLFbpuKi1F0xmRNF_3CwW9QTc0mv4DWRrneJCkBU-PqLY9wdgPtAm7MlaVlVoB_tmQszCBuKpeX8c24Qd4519eqhYa4bn9U9kOatrgYdlqW/s320/DSCN8541.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425966605223654210" /></a><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Gnarly old oak</div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP4dOFmibeBAMG3H3fAGTXLMwKixWUtYhUd_gTCA8OcdWqSw7Yx9DY7tR1MMSlSxzRA8qAij3gcHtOqZ0QzLgaJ1YbJLEl8SLQUh8E_fnuFQYz-8p6rwFL7_YRPVo14kIH_k8nCCIMNFko/s1600-h/DSCN8537.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP4dOFmibeBAMG3H3fAGTXLMwKixWUtYhUd_gTCA8OcdWqSw7Yx9DY7tR1MMSlSxzRA8qAij3gcHtOqZ0QzLgaJ1YbJLEl8SLQUh8E_fnuFQYz-8p6rwFL7_YRPVo14kIH_k8nCCIMNFko/s320/DSCN8537.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425966598996516114" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Juice is vicious from the ground</div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl7KediPLN8JjjgeV8H4rf2ZprgbuKYkGdwNhOp7JI9db6OQN79F92hdqYPg96TrbAxyAheKcDPJDYj6jnzNQSVHtLzVBuAQ17uQ6sn20ax5g27MI6nQ1fnPdw6uOQTsAbU8r3-3B3TPU2/s1600-h/DSCN8546.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl7KediPLN8JjjgeV8H4rf2ZprgbuKYkGdwNhOp7JI9db6OQN79F92hdqYPg96TrbAxyAheKcDPJDYj6jnzNQSVHtLzVBuAQ17uQ6sn20ax5g27MI6nQ1fnPdw6uOQTsAbU8r3-3B3TPU2/s320/DSCN8546.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425966588650482354" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">I've been doing some Crossfit, so now I can hold up trees.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz2-epeVSAWjxElE4lUXKb7mFhzG28sWbOmdAQETZhjPaxAEgonixzxPi6Dd4G7Mn7ZN8l1h_McmLgDc7HHgsox5xPlkcFCX0pAp3MZu9HHvT5qxrush_NGCxSFXSm5PRSh7JxZcJiENPY/s1600-h/DSCN8531.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz2-epeVSAWjxElE4lUXKb7mFhzG28sWbOmdAQETZhjPaxAEgonixzxPi6Dd4G7Mn7ZN8l1h_McmLgDc7HHgsox5xPlkcFCX0pAp3MZu9HHvT5qxrush_NGCxSFXSm5PRSh7JxZcJiENPY/s320/DSCN8531.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425966585856491522" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Snow shoes make you jump really far, like those shoes from the Mario Bros. movie (I started this leap right next to Becky there).</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwNAeCNLeqx7fhJfbsf2JPGIFCfI9_1lPgtZPR_liYwRZxhH8OA5vvxE9YSMLHCqA1EPr-pkbobtSO2YDqo_lURkL9lu5v4wgiBEiICDWQQrHqROg9v7PVkHkzGeu6iChKmqUKCGl4EC6U/s1600-h/DSCN8539.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwNAeCNLeqx7fhJfbsf2JPGIFCfI9_1lPgtZPR_liYwRZxhH8OA5vvxE9YSMLHCqA1EPr-pkbobtSO2YDqo_lURkL9lu5v4wgiBEiICDWQQrHqROg9v7PVkHkzGeu6iChKmqUKCGl4EC6U/s320/DSCN8539.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425966571868041058" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Most likely singing.</div></div></div></div>Colynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10870029250952620394noreply@blogger.com1