The Winchester

The last time I actually rode a horse was probably back in Boy Scouts. Maybe at a fair somewhere as a child, taking a wild ride on a stoned and tethered horse walking in a circle. Holding tight on the reins in fear of the horse going wild and taking off through the cotton candy laden crowd. Or perhaps I was The Lone Ranger, trekking through the wild west in search of fortune and fame and a town to call my own. **insert The Good, The Bad, And The Ugly wah-wah-wah theme here** So it's somewhat understandable that I approached my horse-riding activity (one of some of the other activities they offer during your stay at the Cow Creek Ranch) with some trepidation and wariness. Will my beer-gut be the catalyst to finally break this horse's spine? Will my manly-man-scent be enough to drive the steed into a frenzy of jealous hatred and buck me off? Am I just a few minutes from living out my life as the former Superman had to live his? What if I hurt my junk on the saddle? All these were...

I enjoy some Mexican food as much as the next red-blooded American male who likes to fart. I love me some chili con queso, a good taco, sizzlin' fajitas, etc. There is, however, a stopping point. There is such thing as too much, although I have at least two friends who would disagree with me. When we arrived in New Mexico, we drove to Santa Fe to our hotel. From there, we found ourselves the first of several brew pubs and sat down for a beer while we waited for another of our party to show up. Chris, the guilty one, lives in Colorado and was driving to meet us and had not arrived just yet. So, the rest of us decided to enjoy our wait by downing some New Mexico beer and appetizers. We had nachos and chips with dips and some quesadillas. When we met up with Chris, we all went to a fly-fishing shop where I bought a $75 fly-fishing hat, then headed out to dinner. Finding another brew pub, we sat down for a nice meal. A nice, Mexican food meal. I had shrimp fajitas this time around, an...

New Mexico is awesome. Like many of our mid-west to west-west states, it has a very open feel to it. The skies are huge, because the land is so flat. Not entirely, of course, because all that flat land leads right up to a mountain. You can see so much more of the sky, it's incredible. The clouds look enormous. They are basically the same clouds I can see out my window now, but because everything is so open you don't just see the cloud above, you see the whole cloud . I put that in italics because it is important that you focus on those words. I've heard that some people have a sense of claustrophobia when viewing such skies. For them I suppose it feels like the sky is almost pressing down on the earth. I don't really understand it, but I thought I'd bring it up because I jotted something down about it on the little notepad I was working with and it seems like a disservice to my New Mexican self to not diligently report everything I decided to distract myself...

I don't mind flying. I really don't. I've flown to Florida a few times, Texas, Hawaii, Ireland. Maybe a smattering of others when I was real young. It's nothing new to me, and it's not something that scares me. As Superman said, "Statistically speaking, it's still the safest way to travel." Even so, there is a small, back-of-the-mind thought that I believe goes through every single person who steps on a plane's head. This Could Be It. I believe that one hundred percent. I refuse to believe there is anybody (awake) flying at this moment in time who is not thinking that somewhere in their head. It popped up in mind as we took off, landed, experienced turbulence, and ate some peanuts. This Could Be My Last Peanut. Now This One Could Be My Last Peanut. These Two Could Be My Last Two Peanuts. Etc. It's a very helpless feeling, or thought. There's nothing to be done. You're sitting in a giant, airborne tube, 35,000 feet in the a...

I was at a cook-out yesterday at Nichole's cousin's house. Her and her boyfriend (who, as of Friday night, is now her fiance ) recently moved into their house and today was the first real Come Check It Out day. There was plenty of beer and food to go around, and the weather cooperated. So it was a good day, nice time. The night before, Nichole and I went out to the bar and inebriated ourselves, so we were both nursing hangovers that morning. So upon our arrival at the cook-out, I had not yet brought myself back to normal, so started the day out with Iced Tea as opposed to beer . After several cups, it dawned on me that drinking several cups of tea would inevitably make me have to urinate. Sure enough, immediately after said dawning, I had to urinate . I won't go into detail here, suffice to say I was successful in my endeavor. Unlike many, many men I've seen in my travels through bathrooms in life, both public and private, I wash my hands after each visit to the lav...