You've probably heard by now that there is (or was) water on Mars. Heck, if NASA wanted evidence of water they might have saved a bunch of tax dollars and gone to Iowa. Irrefutable evidence there. Unlike what we hear from them now - "It has to be ice. Because one day there was this white-ish substance in a hole, and then we woke up the next day and looked again and it was gone! What else except ice does that?" Oh, I don't know, I can think of a half dozen things right off the top of my head. Not that I'd expect of any of them to exist on Mars, but you never know, there might have been life there once upon a time. If there was intelligent life it might have burned all the hydrocarbons creating massive holes in the atmosphere to the point where the atmosphere finally disappeared. Followed shortly thereafter by the life itself.
Not to worry though, Obama's going to fix all this before we earthlings suffer the same fate.
Uh huh.
In unrelated news, Master and "Kev' Man" (KM) both returned safely from the HHH which, to review, stands for Horribly Hilly Hundreds. To hear master recall the experience it was somewhere between punitive and sinister torture. The event offered a 100K and 200K option; Master and KM opted for the latter.
The day began early (7 AM), cloudless and warm. At about kilometer 160 a nasty thunderstorm appeared and sent everyone scurrying for shelter. After about 25 minutes it passed, and some people, including our heroes, opted to continue riding. Others headed for the sag wagon and a ride back to the finish. Unfortunately for those who continued on, about 7 miles later the road marshals indicated the course was being officially shutdown due to the threat of a larger and more violent thunderstorm approaching. At this point our heroes were separated on the course. Master had made it to the final rest stop whereas KM was, as it turned out, on a short cut detour to the finish line. At the rest stop everyone was encouraged to get in the sag wagon for a lift back to the finish, due to the threat of bad weather.
Decisions decisions.
On the sag wagon console there was a laptop computer with a real-time display of a weather radar map. Hi-tech bunch of folks those triple-H people. Master appraised the approaching storm, and conceded the concern: something nasty this way cometh. Reluctantly, he opted to call it a day and lifted his bike and himself into the sag. This was mile 103; there was officially 24 miles to go. As mentioned KM was elsewhere on the course and had been strongly encouraged to take a short cut back to the finish - with an emphatic: "Hurry up!" He hadn't quite made it back when Master passed by him in the sag, and just then the sky opened up for the second time that day. Violent it was. Biblical in fact. Sheets of cold rain, penny-sized hail and tornadic-like winds. KM rolled up alongside the Honda before the worst of it hit, soaked to the bone. He joined Master inside who was, well, also very wet. Both of them much wetter than Mars.
A disappointing end maybe, but no one came away ashamed for having completed 100+ miles that day.
2008 HHH - Start - KevMan 'n Master
All in all the hills were relentless, and lived up to their name as hideously horrible. Must've been forty or more of those buggers with a cumulative climb of ~10,000+ feet. The Colorado Rockies have nothing on southwestern Wisconsin.
Brutal.
Gotta love this guy. Caption on bike mount: "If you want to blend in - take the bus."
Coming up: In a few weeks the uprights are off to Alaska for fun w/friends 'n family. There's water in Alaska. Life too. Master has promised to send pictures of both as proof.
So hot Mom scored us a backyard pool to cool down in:
(Hat tip: Carol)
I'm kidding!
About the pool, not the stinkin' heat. (What a lucky dog). Now, we do have an $11 Wal-Mart wading pool in our backyard. For the most part it's used by the uprights to cool their feet after work whilst making homemade wine coolers disappear. I suppose our neighbors find them to be quite a spectacle: look at those pathetic Alaskans, wading through the summer swelter. Ha ha ha.
Speaking of hot. Wedding anniversary #2. Ageless aren't they?
I'm telling you it's the Resveratrol they take - a pharmacological mimetic of calorie restriction. The consistent reduction of caloric intake triggers a genetic program in many organisms that prepares them for tougher times ahead. Surprisingly, this same stress-response program evidently also increases lifespan. There's growing evidence that low doses of Resveratrol may turn on a similar genetic program in mice, and perhaps humans too. This adds to the existing body of evidence that Resveratrol promotes weight loss and even suppresses tumourgenesis (onset of cancer).
Some people raise a moral objection to a drug that may cause humans to live longer. They don't imagine a quality of life attending increased quantity. They imagine, for instance, a country suddenly filled with 200 year old grandpas still falling asleep after Christmas dinner in front of a blaring TV set. In other words, ever more people living dramatically longer but not necessarily better lives than they do today. And on an earth with dwindling resources to boot. A Malthusian's worst nightmare. Since gutless humans are so fond of experimenting with drugs on animals before themselves, allow me to be the first dog to enroll myself in a controlled Reserveratrol study. I wouldn't mind living a few years longer.
We're all doing well so don't worry. The paucity of posts is due
to... well, I'm not sure really. Try the usual excuse that we're all
unforgivably busy.
Mom 'n Master were in the Big Easy recently
enjoying an extended weekend with family and friends.
Stepping up to the
counter to pay for the bayou trip tickets, it occurred to Master that bugs may be
a problem on the boat. Still water, lots of trees 'n swamp stuff, eighty degrees
and high humidity. Can you say mosquitoes? But no! Turns out, according to
"Captain Gary", that mosquito larvae die in water if it's the least bit
disturbed. The water must be completely stagnant. "You're saying this ain't
stagnant water?" Master asked incredulously, pointing to what appeared to be quintessentially stagnant water. Nope. Per Captain Gary, an unseen current
runs through much of the bayou; even though it appears stagnant it ain't. Not
only were there no mosquitoes, there weren't any pesty bugs at all.
Amazing.
They saw alligators, too.
Alligators enjoy marshmallows. In fact, an
alligator can be facing 180 degrees away from you and still detect a marshmallow
hitting the water many feet behind them. Captain Gary - a
proud Cajun who shamelessly proclaimed to everyone in the boat that Cajuns poach: “It’s what we
do” – held forth in didactic fashion about the tiny sensors lining the underside of a ‘gators
mouth, which evidently provides them an exquisite sense for the slightest movement in water.
Everyone went on a cemetery tour, too. Hey, you can't spend all your
time in The Quarter. Turns out everything in New Orleans is slowly sinking,
including the remains of the dead. The highlight of the tour was learning that Dennis Hopper shagged some girl on a sacred burial stone in this cemetery during the making of the movie Easy Rider. According to Ernie the tour guide you need to get the uncut version to see it. Personally, I can way see Dennis Hopper doing that.
Everyone's back at home now, and all is normal. Well, sort of.
In the evening after dinner and wine, when we're all laying around winding down for bedtime, Master (or Mom - one can never predict who) will remove one or both of their socks and fling it at the fireplace brick. This usually only works with sticky wool socks, but every now and then a basic cotton sock will stick too.
Seriously, the image is not doctored, this is exactly how it stuck!
We were always clowning around like that. In winter in the deep Alaskan snow we'd walk around like big black 'n tan Christmas trees dangling white ornaments of snow balls. The disadvantage of having hair versus fur. Max was big galoot, that's for sure, but then we both were. His upright, "Uncle Mark", would have to buy Max rabbit to eat due to his skin condition - ordinary dog food gave him rashes. In summer we'd chase marmots at Arctic Valley, ground squirrels in the Chugach mountains and spawned out salmon in Campbell Creek. I remember one morning in winter there was no snow to reflect any light, it was so dark and cold that both of us nearly walked smack into a moose. What a hoot that was. Max was a friendly dog with a commanding presence. I never saw him start a fight, he was always the one to stop them or prevent them from happening in the first place. Master called him "The Sheriff." He was my friend.
Sadly, Max is off to the rainbow bridge, having died suddenly about a week ago. God speed Max, god speed. You will be missed.
Well, as you might have imagined, there is a variety of technological solutions being discussed which would continually monitor our whereabouts in the woods. Cell phones, back-mounted GPS, even collar-attached alarms which, when remotely activated, effectively shriek "I'm over here!" Oy vey.
Oh, and before I forget, thank you all for the tremendous outpouring of concern via voice- and e- mail regarding our near miss a couple weeks back. We're all doing fine now, if not still occasionally shaken by remnant thoughts of a tragedy that might have been. Until we get a techno solution in place we have "ATM" - All Terrain Mommy - following us closer than our own shadows whereever we go.
Hey, it's Springtime!
A time of year I trust which provides a measure of contentment for us all. Regardless of your fondness for winter past, or anxiousness for the summer to come, Spring represents that seasonal plateau in-between, where one can pause for a moment in breezes redolent with Magnolia to account for what we've learned and prepare for what we're about to.
Pfft. Yeah, right.
More like long lines at Costco elbowing your way through the grouchy masses lunging for that last bag of recession rice. Or cursing BigOil beneath your breath for their supposed criminally egregious profits, while having to endure the throngs of sub-primers baying for government help. Which is pointless when you think about it, given that the government is borrowing mightily to pay for TheAmericanPeople™'s interests in Iraq and elsewhere. Nobody has any money to lend, and if they do they're suspicious you won't be able to pay it back. Throw in the mess of the financial markets paired with the government regulation of said markets, and taken together it all becomes one big incomprehensible Ponzi scheme.
So far as I know it hasn't gotten so bad as to begin rationing dog food - tho the price of IAMS mini-chunks has gone up along with food generally.
Not to worry, the state of the nation could be far worse (and just give it time, there's an election coming up), plus focusing on the negatives all the time isn't a prescription for long term mental health. You really do have to pause and smell the Magnolias more often.
By the time we heard the second gunshot Lucy was off and running.
But not in the direction we'd come from, somewhere back there where Master was probably calling and whistling for us. No, we were headed off in a new direction, beyond the reach of where we'd been before, way beyond where we are allowed to go. But the gun scared me a little, too, so when Lucy took off I followed her.
...
It all began about twenty five minutes earlier. Master, Lucy, and I went to the Farm for our usual Saturday morning run off leash. We had just rounded the old cement bunker, about halfway into our walk through the wooded trails. Like we usually do at that spot Lucy and I peeled off, to run a little deeper into the woods, behind a small hill into a shallow valley, to hunt and mess around. I'm not sure why really, but this day we ran further than usual. Before long we found ourselves at the far end of the woods, a steep hill before us, with houses at the bottom. We'd been here once before, and that time Master had to come and find us, and when he did he wasn't too happy. I remember that.
So there we were again. And that's when Lucy spotted the deer and gave chase. I tried to keep up with her. Down the hill we went, past the houses, around a wide open field and back into some more woods. We stopped when the deer were out of range and we were out of breath. We could see a house or two through the trees, so we started to wander in that direction. The woods were thick there, too. I was still tired from running and so was Lucy, so we continued to wander through the woods to catch our wind. It dawned on me that I didn't know where we were. I looked back to try and ascertain where we'd come from, but I was confused. We better get back to Master, I thought, but how? Where? We wandered around in the woods for quite a while. We were definitely lost. I could see another house a ways up through the woods. We started to walk toward it and when we got closer that's when the gunshots came. Pow! Are they shooting at us?! ... Pow... Pow!!!
There were at least five shots in all. All I know is I was trying to stay up with Lucy. We were both running full out now, in which direction I had no idea. But at some point we started going downhill, and then we were moving faster still. For how long I don't really know. Ultimately, we slowed down, and before much longer we popped out of the woods, crossed over a ditch and found ourselves next to a road with cars coming in both directions. We kept moving down hill, sticking close to the road, but slower now. Cars kept passing by. We were definitely lost big time.
More time had past when finally we made it to the bottom of the hill. It was decision time, a four-way stop. Lucy ventured on to the road and I followed, crossing through the intersection. We could see cars stop for us. Once through the intersection we stayed on the road. We were walking down the center line when a truck coming at us suddenly pulled off to the shoulder. An upright (whose name we later learned was Tim) stepped out, got a hold of us by our collars and hustled us off onto the shoulder, and held us there on the grass. He read the name and phone number on our tags, called our home phone number and left a message he'd found us. I reckoned it was about an hour since we'd last seen Master.
We knew we were in trouble when all of a sudden there's Master getting out of some stranger's car on the opposite side of the street. He appeared half shaken, half relieved, and about as cheery as a nun in a brothel.
Turns out he'd been walking all over hell and creation looking for us. Ultimately, a gut feeling led him down the same hill where we had given chase to the deer. There he saw an older women on the porch of one of the houses. She encouraged him to go to the neighborhood police station, to ask them if they'd seen Lucy and me, and even offered to walk him over there. Desperate, he took her advice and together they tromped through the mud (it had started to rain) to the police station. When they got there the lady rang the back door buzzer to get the attention of the only cop on duty. Just as he opened the door a car pulled up, a man got out and looked at Master and asked, "Are you missing two dogs?" Yes?!, he said. The man said he'd just seen us headed down Fairmont Boulevard, a pretty busy rural road, and Master knew it. Feeling panic, he quickly asked him for a ride to where he'd last seen us.
Moral of the story: Next time you're running away and feeling free, don't forget to pause now and again to remember how good you have it back there. It's a dangerous world; you're not likely to always run into people as nice as Tim.
Living in a vibrant and progressive community like Cleveland, OH - ahem - we are of course treated to an endless parade of provocative speakers. This one for instance. Sponsored by: "The Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual & Transgender Community." Which set me to thinking - why stop at transgender? Isn't that being just a little narrow-minded? Consider trans-species:
"Doc, I feel as though I'm a man living in a dog's body."
Come to think of it, if I really had my druthers I might prefer surgery to become a tree, or even a lush green lawn. Or maybe an insect - a Millidale! An Aireroach! With gene therapy the possibilities are endless. We could start our own hug 'n love group, get a web site, be on the Ellen show! The mind wanders.
Spring has arrived, or winter is leaving, hard to tell. Whichever, wind has always accompanied this transition, and one can never surely assign responsibility - is it winter giving us the final F-you, or Spring rattling the storm windows, "Let me in!"
Which also means it's tax time. Which means windows aren't all that's rattling. Not a good time to test drive your jokes on Master. If you've ever had to go to a State website for tax information you'll discover the quaint, pictorial headers replete with a diverse citizenry frolicking and playing in public spaces, as if to say, "Your tax dollars at work." What a load of crap.
Need more assistance? Feel free to send us a question by e-mail. For live help, taxpayer service agents are available by telephone, toll-free, at (800) 282-1780 from 8 a.m. to 5 p.m.
Live help - how modern! You want to call one of these "agents" to alert them, "Hey, I just witnessed a Volkswagen disappear in a pothole down our street. Any chance you could, you know, like fill the damn thing in? For cryin' out loud you stole over $4K from our house alone this year, where the hell's it going?" Click. Dialtone.
Oh yeah, we're frolicking alright. Well, it won't be long now. Master has submitted a research paper for publication and you, dear readers, will be the first to know which journal it appears in (including the link, of course). I've gotten a sneak preview, and all I can suggest is you may want to read it after you've eaten. No, I'm kidding. Truly it's a tour de force, if only the reviewers will understand that. Following the sequel to this paper we will be off! To do our frolicking elsewhere, thank you very much.
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