Vegas and Log-Lugging

Well Cooterinos, it's back to the grind this week. I've got a little over a week left before it's time for me to saddle up and fly out to Vegas. I heard a rumor that the pools close in the off-season, which really worried me. Since I don't fit the description of a traditional Vegas visitor, I'm not sure what else I would do in my free time. However, a quick check to the Luxor website eased my concerns. Phew, I'll be a-sunning myself afterall.

With just over a week left, I have a few things I really need to get in order for the trip. I have to pick up a memory card for my camera for shizzle. The one I have is fine for a weekend or so, but I'm not going to have my laptop with me, so I have to be able to store an entire week's worth of pictures on memory cards.

I also wanted to pick up a camping pad in case I end up sleeping on the floor. We might have a lot of people in the room some nights and I don't want a repeat of my Florida trip with JO, when I had to sleep on the floor w/o any cushioning. Man those girls were wenches. They wouldn't give me the cushions off the fold-out couch because they didn't want their pillows to fall down into the couch, so I had to sleep on the hard ass floor. Nope, this time I want to be prepared.

Next, I need some clothes for the trip. The difficulty here is that it's going to be hot during the day, then cold at night, so I have to be prepared for everything. Plus, there will be plenty of pool sitting and I don't want to be that guy wearing the same thong to the pool everyday; how embarassing. Considering my current broke ass finances, I'm not sure how much cash I'll have to be buying tons of stuff, but I'll see what I can do.

HECOW, cover your reading ears. I just checked on Sunday's trail race results, and I finished 31st overall (out of 99), and second in my age group. Of course, there were only two people in the race in their 20s, so that doesn't really tell you anything. Had we stuck around, I probably would have taken home some hardware.

I checked out the cute girl I chased for the last third of the race and she's in her 30s and from CT (she finished one minute before me). Not much of a chance of seeing her again. Oh well, she didn't seem real interested anyway, although my attempts to slow her down by asking open-ended questions did get long answers. Unfortunately, she could hold a conversation and kick my ass at the same time.

There's a race coming up in a few weeks to benefit Cancer Research, with an emphasis on lung cancer. It's in memory of a lifetime runner (and non-smoker) who died suddenly of lung cancer, and the organizers are really trying to get money out of you. The entry fee is $25, which is already pretty steep for a race around here, then they tack on handling fees, convenience fees and everything else which gets you to $33. Then, if you want to partake in the post-race feeding frenzy, you better open your wallet up for another $8. Usually that stuff is included, but this time you have to shell out for it.

I did find however, that if you mail in the entry form it doesn't say anything about late entry fees ($5) and active.com doesn't get a chance to add on their ticketmaster-style convenience charge. Needless to say, I'm going to enter for a mere $25.39 (including the stamp). Score!

The directions on the entry form say to make checks payable to: The Brock Wilkerson Memorial Cancer Research Fund. Apparently the people coordinating this thing have never filled out a check before, because you need two lines to fit all of those words. How about just the name of the race, The Brock Trot?

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Got Wood?

Yesterday I got wood, firewood that is (you are all scumbags). I went out to JC's house to help haul wood from the woodpile to the other side of the house (down a hill), then into the basement and around the corner into the superheated boiler room. Man, it's hot in there. Using wheelbarrows and good old fashioned elbow grease, we lugged almost a cord into the basement.

It wouldn't have been so hard except we had to hand carry the logs from the basement door to the wood racks. Anyone who's carried firewood before knows that you load up your subordinate arm with logs, each one pressing a corner into your flesh. After you've moved a ton (literally) of logs, your arm is criss-crossed with red marks, bruises and spider carcasses.

As payment for my services, I received exactly - to the ounce - one truckload of firewood. By the time we had lugged all of his firewood, there was no way I was going to wheel another 2/3 of a cord up the hill to my wood rack. Nope, we tossed that mess into the driveway and I settled into a bowl of ice cream. Now tonight I have my work cut out for me.

I was also hoping to reinforce my woodrack and maybe even put a rudimentary roof on it so I'm not fussing with tarps all winter. I have several packs of shingles in the garage, I could really do it up. If I'm gonna go that far, I should probably replace the busted pavers beneath the thing so it stays good and level. All that work just to stack wood that's gonna be tossed into a fire. Hey Russ-T, wanna put a roof on my woodrack?

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Well, I think that's about it for me today. I'll let you guys know how the woodrack goes, as I'm sure you'll be wondering about it all night. Take care and don't forget to floss.

Over and Out,
Old Coot