Wasting Tuesday Nights
So I don't usually treat this like a bloggy-type blog, but I'm sitting in my living room, watching 'America's Got Talent' because I enjoy a little bit of self-induced torture, and I feel like it warrants a little bit of real-time writing. Because seriously, you can't make this shit up.
9:46pm Just watched an 80-year old woman who looked like a rather terrifying doll in an exceptionally short skirt do a tap routine. Badly. And it gave me a little bit of hope for the entertainment value of this show, but it also made me a little sad.
The last few days have been pretty sweet. Spent most of Saturday at Brown's/Belle Isle, helping out with the pre-XTerra events - a scramble around the island, which I helped do reg for, starting at 6am - and a rodeo/boatercross. The rodeo had two people in it, Stratton, Moffatt, and Ellenberg judged (just a random coincidence that I usually refer to all of them by their last names) and it was anticlimactic, so I went home to shower before the boatercross. Didn't really care enough. Climbed with Dave that night and it was pretty awesome.
9:50pm They're bringing back the Feud, hosted by Al Roker and featuring such groups as The Office, American Gladiator, American Chopper, and various families. I think I'm a little sad.
9:51pm The father of a 4-year-old contestant just told the camera that she's been singing since she was 'about one years old' and honestly, you can't write this shit. Jerry Springer is waiting in the wings with her parents. I wonder if they're honestly going to buzz a four-year-old. No way she can handle Vegas.
9:52pm Y'know, she's not that bad. I've heard much worse from people six times her age. Who were also convinced they could sing. But she never freakin' smiles. Why not? Oh, she smiles at the Hoff. Ooo, phone's ringing.
9:56pm Blogging or no, I don't know if I can handle another hour of this. Hey cool, Law & Order's on.
So anyway, Sunday was Father's Day, and I pretty much lazed around the house, watched golf (US Open wasn't a bad watch this year) and had family dinner. Good times. Monday I worked, and it was, um. See, we give belay tests to make sure that people who come in are capable of belaying in a safe and responsible manner. We match those tests with the waiver, which is a legal document where they say they won't sue us if they get hurt (in much more legal terms). Each guest is ID'd by their waiver number, because that's how they go into our system (there's like ten thousand 'Smiths' so it's not logical to do them by name.) The tests are marked with that number and entered into the computer, so we can tell when they check in if they're cool to belay. Grand.
So when I did waivers on Friday afternoon, I did numbers 111887-111897. We do a good business. And a fraction of those have done tests. Which were all matched with a waiver number and all stuck in folders. And we had to put them in numerical order. Literally thousands of 5- or 6-digit numbers. Three and a half hours of this, interrupted to laugh with George and Stine and to fight over who got to answer the phone. It was...an interesting experience. And I'm glad it's over.
Following that, I bounced over to Blue Ridge to start getting shifts. So two jobs, lots of outdoorsy people, hopefully saving enough to not be hit too hard by the Euro when I go back to school in September. Hopefully.
And then! Went to meet up with Jeff and run the upper James. He just started a few weeks ago, and I've not done the James in years, but it's low enough that I was comfortable running it with him. Demo'd a Transformer of his friend's, and I didn't hate it...which was nice. It's a weird little boat, 5ish years old, but it's blue, and I like blue. If I outfit it right, it should be a good boat...a breeze to roll, short and fat, comfy outfitting. Not expensive. In RVA. I'm sold. Now I just need blades, a proper rescue vest, and a new deck.
Anyway. There was a storm chasing us, and as we got close to the take-out I kept glancing over my shoulder to check out the storm. The sky was dark - like, impending-doom dark, not nighttime dark - and the setting sun hit the bridges to bring them out in relief...it was a beautiful image, on my river in my city with one of my friends. I settle back into Richmond better than anywhere. Work, friends, climbing and paddling. Family. Home. I love it here.
Had two beers with Spoon last night, he's only in town for a day and change, chatted, came home and went to bed. Early day again today, 3-hour rent-a-belay and some assorted phone-answering, then boating with Dave, this time on the Lower. Much more to do, less flatwater, Hollywood's big even at this level and I flipped - not scary-flipped, just how-do-I-fix-myself-flipped. It was great feeling confident like this...I mean, yesterday I was the better of the two of us, and that was pretty cool. But today I was the newbie by a decade, and even if I wasn't in top form, I felt *good.* Confident. There was nothing dangerous, so I'd've felt silly being nervous, but still. It was a new, refreshing feeling. I wasn't worrying about anyone but myself, not trying to impress anyone more or less experienced than me. I was just paddling, enjoying the river, taking my cue from Dave but not worried if I got pushed off his line, ran a section a different way. I could look ahead and see where the river was going, how a section was going to effect me - less so because of the new boat, but there were very few surprises - I was running a river, not just paddling one stroke at a time. I can't wait to do it again.
There's a park and play at Pipeline, I hope to be down there lots of afternoons. I want to get better. Low levels means it's not scary - just a marginally sticky hole. Something to get better in. A place to improve. I want to improve - I want to be better, and I want to do this again, and forever.
10:19pm Switched to Law & Order. Dead rape victim. Usual fare. Stiff and sore and thrilled to death at the last few days.
9:46pm Just watched an 80-year old woman who looked like a rather terrifying doll in an exceptionally short skirt do a tap routine. Badly. And it gave me a little bit of hope for the entertainment value of this show, but it also made me a little sad.
The last few days have been pretty sweet. Spent most of Saturday at Brown's/Belle Isle, helping out with the pre-XTerra events - a scramble around the island, which I helped do reg for, starting at 6am - and a rodeo/boatercross. The rodeo had two people in it, Stratton, Moffatt, and Ellenberg judged (just a random coincidence that I usually refer to all of them by their last names) and it was anticlimactic, so I went home to shower before the boatercross. Didn't really care enough. Climbed with Dave that night and it was pretty awesome.
9:50pm They're bringing back the Feud, hosted by Al Roker and featuring such groups as The Office, American Gladiator, American Chopper, and various families. I think I'm a little sad.
9:51pm The father of a 4-year-old contestant just told the camera that she's been singing since she was 'about one years old' and honestly, you can't write this shit. Jerry Springer is waiting in the wings with her parents. I wonder if they're honestly going to buzz a four-year-old. No way she can handle Vegas.
9:52pm Y'know, she's not that bad. I've heard much worse from people six times her age. Who were also convinced they could sing. But she never freakin' smiles. Why not? Oh, she smiles at the Hoff. Ooo, phone's ringing.
9:56pm Blogging or no, I don't know if I can handle another hour of this. Hey cool, Law & Order's on.
So anyway, Sunday was Father's Day, and I pretty much lazed around the house, watched golf (US Open wasn't a bad watch this year) and had family dinner. Good times. Monday I worked, and it was, um. See, we give belay tests to make sure that people who come in are capable of belaying in a safe and responsible manner. We match those tests with the waiver, which is a legal document where they say they won't sue us if they get hurt (in much more legal terms). Each guest is ID'd by their waiver number, because that's how they go into our system (there's like ten thousand 'Smiths' so it's not logical to do them by name.) The tests are marked with that number and entered into the computer, so we can tell when they check in if they're cool to belay. Grand.
So when I did waivers on Friday afternoon, I did numbers 111887-111897. We do a good business. And a fraction of those have done tests. Which were all matched with a waiver number and all stuck in folders. And we had to put them in numerical order. Literally thousands of 5- or 6-digit numbers. Three and a half hours of this, interrupted to laugh with George and Stine and to fight over who got to answer the phone. It was...an interesting experience. And I'm glad it's over.
Following that, I bounced over to Blue Ridge to start getting shifts. So two jobs, lots of outdoorsy people, hopefully saving enough to not be hit too hard by the Euro when I go back to school in September. Hopefully.
And then! Went to meet up with Jeff and run the upper James. He just started a few weeks ago, and I've not done the James in years, but it's low enough that I was comfortable running it with him. Demo'd a Transformer of his friend's, and I didn't hate it...which was nice. It's a weird little boat, 5ish years old, but it's blue, and I like blue. If I outfit it right, it should be a good boat...a breeze to roll, short and fat, comfy outfitting. Not expensive. In RVA. I'm sold. Now I just need blades, a proper rescue vest, and a new deck.
Anyway. There was a storm chasing us, and as we got close to the take-out I kept glancing over my shoulder to check out the storm. The sky was dark - like, impending-doom dark, not nighttime dark - and the setting sun hit the bridges to bring them out in relief...it was a beautiful image, on my river in my city with one of my friends. I settle back into Richmond better than anywhere. Work, friends, climbing and paddling. Family. Home. I love it here.
Had two beers with Spoon last night, he's only in town for a day and change, chatted, came home and went to bed. Early day again today, 3-hour rent-a-belay and some assorted phone-answering, then boating with Dave, this time on the Lower. Much more to do, less flatwater, Hollywood's big even at this level and I flipped - not scary-flipped, just how-do-I-fix-myself-flipped. It was great feeling confident like this...I mean, yesterday I was the better of the two of us, and that was pretty cool. But today I was the newbie by a decade, and even if I wasn't in top form, I felt *good.* Confident. There was nothing dangerous, so I'd've felt silly being nervous, but still. It was a new, refreshing feeling. I wasn't worrying about anyone but myself, not trying to impress anyone more or less experienced than me. I was just paddling, enjoying the river, taking my cue from Dave but not worried if I got pushed off his line, ran a section a different way. I could look ahead and see where the river was going, how a section was going to effect me - less so because of the new boat, but there were very few surprises - I was running a river, not just paddling one stroke at a time. I can't wait to do it again.
There's a park and play at Pipeline, I hope to be down there lots of afternoons. I want to get better. Low levels means it's not scary - just a marginally sticky hole. Something to get better in. A place to improve. I want to improve - I want to be better, and I want to do this again, and forever.
10:19pm Switched to Law & Order. Dead rape victim. Usual fare. Stiff and sore and thrilled to death at the last few days.