A Very Dierenfeld Christmas...

Well I'm now heading home after a wonderful Christmas with my family.

And being who we are, we do Christmas a bit different than others. Following our ethnic German roots, our family goes to the Christmas Eve service at church (as kids this was known as the Horror Before the Rapture of New Gifts) and then head home to open gifts that evening. That's right folks... for almost 30 Christmases now... I got to open my gifts before you (unless you also were a part of a more enlightened, Germanic family too). Christmas Eve is the great night, were everyone in my family feigns "oh you don't need to get me anything" and "I really didn't get anything much for anyone" unless it's me... and I really mean it.

My Father's favorite pastime while I grew up was to try to convince my sister and I that there wasn't going to be any gifts for Christmas. That and hiding and mis-wrapping gifts to completely confuse us. Like one year were my GI Joe super-cool airplane was wrapped in Rainbow Bright paper, making me think it was for my sister. Or the other year where he hid our new bike/scooter in the back yard, and my poor sister stepped in dog waste and tracked it through our yuletide living room.

In later years it has been a less commercial affair and more about having a wonderful time together as a family. This is usually centered around various processed meat and cheeses, as well as my mother's infamous Sour Cream Cookies. If you think it sounds nasty, then I'll let your ignorance remain and have your share... because there is NO cookie that beats them. This year's spread was even improved upon, adding the wild game / exotic processed meats. We had Elk Salami, Buffalo Summer Sausage and Duck Summer Sausage. And if you think that they sound nasty, well then I'll have your share of that too.

Perhaps the greatest part of it was the addition to the family, Nicholas. He's already a sweet kid and super cool. When I get home, I'll be posting pics and some short video of him. I'm a proud uncle of a month old baby boy, who doesn't like naps and makes faces at people. Looks like the Dierenfeld genes might dominate...

However, what really makes Christmas wonderful is knowing that my Savior was born around 2000 years ago. Sure, not on Dec 25th, but we couldn't let the pagans have all the good holidays. I hope you had a wonderful time of merriness, joyfultude, and general good cheerifulocity. And I wish you the most blessed New Year!

Christmas Time Traveling

Well something actually interesting and “blog” worthy is happening! I’m off to Wyoming to see my sister and the whole family (including new addition Nicholas). Of course I waited until the last minute to do laundry and pack, but with the help of the “Captain” and some egg nog, I had no worries.

I gathered everything together and got a bleary-eyed Mr. P out of bed to drive my rear to the airport. It is always the case (at least for me) that if I get to the airport on time, there are no lines for anything… not at check-in, security or Starbucks counter. It’s like life is one easy breeze. I never have travel nightmares! My bags have never been lost, I’ve only missed one flight (due to my own procrastination) and never has my flight been cancelled. I’ve never sat next to the screaming baby, the annoying salesman and (to my consternation) the cute, single, hot gal. I do have delayed flights, but I feel like compared to the ease of everything else… this is no big deal.

So in the Sea-Tac main terminal, past the Starbucks, the Anthony’s Fish Café and multitude of salmon-and-lumber themed kitschy gift shops, there lies a slice of Americana, Terminal “C”. At Sea-Tac, this is where all the small turbo-prop, egg-beater, puddle jumpers arrive and depart. This is where the real people fly in and out of. The plaid-clad contractor and his family of 10 heading to Pullman, the forever-tanned fisherman off to visit his land-locked brother in Boise, and the young Native couple and their baby heading to Kalispell in Montana. Just your everyday man, woman and child on a yultide journey for the Christmas spirit with family and friends.

And now my journey has ended. I’m at my sister’s place in Wyoming… and met my new nephew for the first time. There will be pictures coming soon!

Going back to "school"

Well today I finally committed myself to getting my A+ certification.

For all of you un-techie types, it's basically the high school diploma of the computer world. I know a little of this and little of that, but this would prove that I know "stuff" about computers. So along with my experience and few books off of Amazon, I'll be attending Ayric's School o' Nerdiness for the next month or so. Gives me something to do over the holidays, and I can always prod my techie father about stuff when he's not distracted by the new grandson.

For my own laziness... I'm adding some links on the sidebar, so that I have them when I'm away from the home CPU.

Well that's about it... I might post more about the wonderful world of computers later, but now it's off to bed.

Update: My job, My Nephew and Curious Dating Rituals

Hey Everyone... I'm back from dead. It's been a trying month... work completely died on me, which brings me to my first piece of news.

My job has been reduced from full time with salary and benefits to just part-time with zippo perks. Kind of a bummer, but I've been in far worse scrapes in my patch-quilt of a career. I've been bouncing back and forth between faith-filled optimism to gloomy curmudgeony. Can't say I thought I'd be in the last months of my 20's, still not sure about my career and being single. But alas, am but a pot in the hands of Potter... (Romans 9:15-20)

So on happier news, I'm an uncle for the first time! My nephew was born on the 28th of Nov just before 6am. Healthy guy coming in at 7lbs 6oz. Looks like he has some of my sister's traits (which bodes well for him). Either way however, he's got two of the best parents a kid these days could hope for. I got the other set myself.

And lastly I'd like to pass along a little story that's in the midst of developing. I will leave out names to protect the gutless... er innocent. Here goes.

Let's say I know a guy named Bob. Bob is a good guy, with a great heart for God. Bob has helped me out immensely in the last few years, and I cherish the guy. Well Bob picked up a hobby as of late, which he seems quite adept to. Well at this hobby's shop is a certain lady I'll call Susie. Susie I'm not so acquainted with, but she seems (at a distance of 10 meters and 2 minutes) to be a sweet gal. Bob thinks he likes Susie, but isn't sure. Bob has talked about Susie to me for about two months now and hasn't done much to get the ball rolling. Luckily Bob has another friend who put his feet to the fire. He was told that Susie is going to get a call if he doesn't bite the bullet and just ask the poor gal out for a simple meal or a cup of joe. I maybe wrong (being the antithesis of Casanova if there ever was one) but I can't see a scenario where Susie is going to explode, turn into a wolf, or melt if he asks her out. So she might have a boyfriend, so she might not be interested, or possibly scarier than that... she might wind up liking Bob alot. I say go and ask her out before the Lord and give it all to him. In that there is no fear and no risk. But of course, if I were in Bob's shoes, I would be no different. Are you still a hypocrite if you admit your hypocrisy? Tomorrow is "the day", friends... we shall see if Bob can do it.

If you want to give Bob advice, just comment... he reads the blog. :)

Fark Photoshop Contests

Well I've been distracted from posting lately... I've visited Fark.com a few times in the past, mostly due to Ada showing me a cool photoshop contest. These contests have no prizes, but just bragging rights and a chance to show off what you can think of and create. Well I finally bit the bullet and started participating. I really have fun doing it and it's quite relaxing. Instead of sending you all over Fark.com (which can be, at times, questionable) I'll be putting together all my entries in a set on Flickr.com under Fark Photoshop Contests. Enjoy!

Bob's Corn Maze of Silty Death

Well folks... it's been SLOOOOW lately. Not much excitement from the road, or the home front. So its story time...about two innocent boys named Ayric and Phil and what happened on a dark and rainy night about a year ago.

Phil (good friend, co-condo-dweller, and awesome cook) invited me just about a year ago to attend a "singles and young couples" gathering hosted by some great folks from his church. This particular event was quite well attended and I met some nice people over dinner and a few drinks. All well and good, until the second part of the evening. You know how in horror films how everything seems too good, too quiet, too happy at the start? Same thing here...

Flash-even-more-back... Phil and I had attended a conference earlier that day at another Church in town. While not in our Sunday best, we weren't slouches either. I was wearing a new pair of black Rockports for the event. This important to remember, as I retell that fateful evening.

As the meal wraps up, the announcement goes out that people will be departing shortly for the Corn Maze. I guess you could say I grew up in the "city" only if by growing up in the country means you visited a corn maze. I had not. Phil mentioned a Corn Maze and it didn't set off any red flags. I think I imagined something about 12' by 12' for the little kids to run through, daylight streaming though the crisp clear fall air, and lots of hot cider and pumpkins around. I was right about the pumpkins.

My radar started to register the impending doom of our situation when people started changing. They wore pretty typical street casual wear at the meal. Now they came back looking like they were either going to a Gallagher concert or an all-you-can-eat ribs night at Tony Roma's. Boots were offered, but they were kid's size 5, not the ski size 14 that I needed.

So we drive out to the country. By now it's quite dark (being fall and all). Eventually we arrive at Farmer Bob's Corn Maze. The place is packed! I'm starting to feel better thinking that it's not as bad as people were thinking. However no sooner had this thought come to my mind than, Farmer Bob drove his John Deer out of the darkness, up the road from his "maze", with some of the most miserable people heaped on to his hay trailer. Imagine about 20-30 folks, looking like they had been pulled out of the North Atlantic, bouncing, flopping and flailing around on a very unsafe hay trailer. All of them looked dressed for a season of crabbing off the coast of Alaska. Also, it started to rain. I had only a leather jacket.

At this point, I'm certain that I won't be going into Bob's little sick trap. I'm smarter than that... I know when I've not adequately prepared for an undertaking and this was the mother of all inadequately prepared undertakings! I decide its time for my hot cider, which I am a huge fan of. I get my cup of apple-ly goodness when I notice that Bob either had a bad corn/pumpkin crop or was a protégé of P.T Barnum. He’s CHARGING for his hellish ride and soul-stealing adventure. I turn to Phil and I say that there is NO WAY I’m paying 5 bucks to get dumped a dark and rainy corn field wearing my new dress shoes and only a leather jacket. Oh and we don’t even have a flashlight. The moment the last syllable was out of my mouth… this gal in our group literally appears out of thin air, right in front of me, and says in a very loud voice, “What?! Are you CHEAP?!” At this point the whole joint goes quiet and all eyes are on me. I got called out… and pride goes before the fall. I pay my five bucks, grab a map, find the complementary “galoshes” (plastic grocery bags… I doubled bagged each foot) and someone was kind enough to give us a glow stick for light. We all load up on Farmer Bob’s sadistic hay trailer and go bounding down the dark, muddy road to our eventual doom.

The ride took years off my life. Imagine standing on a drenched wooden floor and dropping down into corn field much like the waterfalls in Pirates of the Caribbean ride at Disneyland. I was certain that if I had fallen off the cart at this point, my body would have never been found. (which made me wonder if there were previous passengers missing). There was mud EVERYWHERE. Oh yeah, Farmer Bob’s wicked maze was on a silty flood plain. The trailer is basically drug through the sloppy mess. Finally we stop… in practically the pitch dark.

With trusty glow stick in hand, we have to walk to the front of the maze. Phil and I team up with another guy Andrew to help tackle this Herculean task. Before we start, I try to orient myself using the map. Holding the weak glow light next to the paper I can make out patches of light green, and lighter green. It looks like we fell pray to another one of Farmer Bob’s evil jokes. Instead of getting an actual aerial shot of the 4 acre maze, he just got a 9 foot ladder to just crest the tops of the 8 foot corn and snapped a picture. This was then photocopied, faxed, photocopied again, thrown in the garbage, fished out, faxed and then photocopied to make what was called "the map". Basically, I could see the parts of the maze that went North-South, but nothing that went East-West. So we started off. The trick was to essentially cross country ski using plastic-bag feet and sliding through the silt. If you were to lift a foot off the ground the other would instantly lose traction and send you on your butt.

Holding the weak green glow stick as high as I could and skiing through slit, we come to our first fork in the road. Farmer Bob strikes again with agricultural questions. He must be doing night classes for his PhD in Gourd Sciences and Corn Landscaping with an emphasis in Bad Ideas. The questions are something like, “If you grow corn on a 72 hectares of land and pumpkins on a 3 square mile patch with a train leaving Chicago at 8:45pm going 55 mph, how many people could you bilk for five bucks?” You were then given a list of answers with corresponding directions. So the answer “1-1000” would have been “go back”, “1000-3000” was “left”, “3000-6000” was “right” and “depends how many fell off the hay trailer” was “start digging”

Luckily Farmer Bob is not used to someone who got though college on multiple choice tests. And of course Phil knew a lot of the answers despite going to college for Finance. I suspect that he hung out with a lot of 4H’ers back in the day.

Well after a harrowing hour, we found our way out, and we were the first. Not that anyone noticed. We gathered our band of brave souls and headed back in Farmer Bob’s muddy death sled. Getting back to the relative safety and civilization of the barn, I got a chance to see the damage to the shoes. They were coated in mud, but a good spray down got them back in shape, not too much worse for wear.

So what’s the moral of the story? Always be prepared. Rural folks are a lot more crafty than you think. If a gal calls you cheap, tell her that you are, save $5 and possibly your life.

Brooks & Dunn: Deuces Wild Tour

Wow... had a great night with good pal and occasional condo-mate, Mr. P (aka Phil). We got tickets a while back for the local appearance of a great musical act, Brooks and Dunn. Yeah, yeah... the "Boot Scootin' Boogie" guys. I don't dig that song, but since then... they have put out alot of great tunes and put on an even greater show. They were preceded by the Warren Brothers (they are "barely famous" because they are "barely country" music) and Big and Rich (country music's new rebel/hippy/hip-hop/cannabis influenced act).

Much apologies about the lack of B&D pictures... my camera died (typical) just as they came on. The pictures I did get were good... I'm starting to figure out this whole digital photography thing.

Here's the pictures

Horse Auction and off to Montana!

I'm back, briefly... it's hard to find an Internet connection in the middle of the Rocky Mountains!

As I mentioned before in my last post, I went to a Horse Action... here's a few tips if your friend invites you to one.

1) Ask where it is. My assumption... in town (Greater Portland Area). My reality... two hours away down the Columbia Gorge in a town called The Dalles.

2) Ask how long it will take. My assumption... a few hours, we get bored and go home. My reality... 12 hours.

3) Don't stand near scared cows. The stress of being "wrangled" tends to make them... um... poop. Alot.

4) Don't bring alot of money... food doesn't cost more than $4.95.

5) Bring a camera... and here's the pictures

Well now I'm in Montana, going a million miles an hour installing and training computers. Not much time to take pictures, but I'll try to snap some today, because the place is really gorgeous!

Until next time!

On the Road Again...

Just an short update... I was hoping to have some pictures from the road for you all, but I left the proper cord at home. I drove off to Pendleton, Oregon yesterday from Seattle (Kirkland) and wrapped up my work there this afternoon. I'm now hangin' out with my friend Ada and her boyfriend Dan. I guess they want to goto a horse auction / show tomorrow, so I'll pal around with them before heading home.

Sunday afternoon will start another big trip... a week in Montana and Wyoming. Hopefully no snow (please Lord... no snow) and lots of gorgeous pictures to share. Have a great weekend everybody!

New Blog Name.. "The Adventures of Cutie-kins"

So... in typical Ayric/Andy style, I thought I was clever... when really, anyone could see how to easily thwart my poorly planned attempt at blocking the joke. Congrats! So following the old addage, "If you can't beat them, join them" I will now endorse and accept the nickname "Cutie-kins" It beats "Deer-in-the-field", "Andy Dangerfield" (becuase I got no respect in middle school... or now it seems), or my college nickname (for the first 4 years) of "Freshman".

Until next time,

Cutie-kins

Ok, Anonymous... joke's over!

I wasn't sure if I was acutally going to respond to the Anonyomus comments on the blog. If you can't identify who you are, then why do you get a response, right? I've thought the comments were funny and all, and I'm throughly convinced that it's probably my friends showing their sense of humor (which needs work) and making me all embarassed.

However it might not, so in all fairness to this person... and to prove that they might be wrong about my "cutie-kins"-ness... here's a link to pretty much all the personal pics I have. Not much, and some are older than dirt... but "enjoy".

If the comments were made by my friends... haha, LOL, ROFLMAO, you got me, titter-titter... now get to work and stop draging down America's GDP.

Oh, and no more anonyomous commenting... I want to know who you are!

Island Adventure Blog: Day 6, South and West Shores, Waimea Canyon and Flying Home

Well my last day on the Island was a bit busy... trying to cram in everything that I didn't see yet. I hate being rushed and stressed so I didn't enjoy the sights as much as I did the day before. Here's the pictures...

I packed in the morning which made me get a late start... and the leftovers from hurricane Kenneth made the weather pretty crummy at times. But I did see some pretty interesting stuff. I found a coffee farm and roaster. I had never seen coffee plants before and tried their coffee (of course it wasn't Caffe Lusso, but it was still better than Charbucks). It was interesting that they list tea before their coffee on the menu there.

The next site was very beautiful and ugly at the same time. I had found a place listed as Glass Beach online with this strange multi-colored glass in the sand. I thought the glass was naturally occurring. I never heard of such a thing before, so I made it a priority to find the beach. Looking at pictures I found online in relation to some storage silos I saw, I found it. The beach was alot smaller than I thought... and very dirty. There was small bits of mouldering trash. But not nasty stuff like food or diapers... but glass, rubber and metal. This was confusing and I was wondering if it was related to the more industrial nature of the area. As I was taking a few pictures, I noticed a cemetery up the dirt road from the beach. It looked like a nice area to take some wider, establishing shots. I got up there to find the most neglected, hodgepodge of graves I had ever seen. Yet the kanji characters on the tombstones were so delicate and ornate I took a few snapshots. I then went to the cliff edge to get the shots I came for. I noticed as I took a few pictures that there was old rusted engines and transmissions. Gears too. I then saw that the whole cliff face was old garbage... not the modern stuff we throw away today. This was the dump back at the turn of the century. Then they buried the unfortuate people on top of it. This is also where all the glass for the beach was coming from. Old bottles were being eroded off the cliff face, warn down into little bits and deposited on the beach. Weird...both gross and beautiful.

I then visited an old Russian fort (Fort Elizabeth) near the mouth of the Waimea River. This is also the spot where Captain James Cook (famous British sea explorer from the late 1700's) first landed. Up the river from there is a the Menehune Ditch... which doesn't sound or even look like much, but it is said that the infamous Hawaiian little people made the ditch to help the native people irrigate their taro fields.

After that I headed out to Polihale Beach which is 15 minutes down a dirt road. It was worth every bumpy minute however. This was the most beautiful beach I saw the whole trip. It's HUGE and the water is that amazing blue. Very remote and quiet, and I only saw a handful of people. If I had time I would of just sat there all day. If I go back, I'm camping there!

After that I headed up into the Waimea Canyon. They call it the Grand Canyon of Hawaii, but to me it looked even bigger. Amazing views and lots of waterfalls running down the sides of mountains and cliffs. Its not for those who are in a rush though, as the roads are all 25 mph limits and extremely curvy. Also, make sure you gas up before going, otherwise you'll just stress about the gage being past the "E" and have to coast in neutral all the way back into town. Not fun... take it from me. Also if you want really clear views, make sure there is NO chance of rain or clouds that day and go early. It was pouring about half the time I was up there.

So I cruise back into town, jaunting over to the Wailua Falls I missed on other days... in full flood mode... pretty sweet! I didn't have time for the Fern Grotto tour, but there is always next time. I dashed into the Coconut Market place for gift run, and headed to the airport.

So you know about those poor people who get strip searched, flight gets delayed, have the same name as some random terrorist, and then lose their luggage? Yeah, that's not me. My flight home was one of the most easy experiences of my life. The commuter flight to Honolulu was only half full, and there were two cool Hawaiian locals who chatted it up with me. We had a blast for the short 30 minute flight. Then at Honolulu the strangest thing happened. NO ONE was there. I waltzed up to the ticket counter, upgraded to first class, and was the only one to go through the security check point. I couldn't believe how fast it was. As I got to the gate, they were boarding the plane and I was off with mai tai in hand, enjoying not only the huge first class seat but the one next to me that was empty as well. I have to say, first class is worth every dime! I'm so spoiled now, it's gonna be hard to cram into a coach seat, next to a screaming baby, ever again.

So I'm back home! Enjoying the cool, grey, rainy weather; good coffee from the roomie; driving my big ol' work van; and having to get up at was feels like an ungodly hour of 8am (5am Hawaii time).

Thanks for reading about my adventures and checking out my pictures!

Island Adventure Blog: Day 5, The North Shore

Well now I'm finally back home in the Pacific Northwest... I got busy my final two days on the island and didn't want to waste them being on a computer! I was in paradise! Click here for the pictures!

So day 5 was by far the best day there because the North Shore is just amazing. Luckily I did some research online before arriving on the island and found the location of some off-the-road beaches. Anini Beach was one of the best beaches I saw all day... people snorkeling and wind surfing in the most blue water I've ever seen. I also noticed that the surfers will put stickers on signs leading to the best beaches too. I also have some pictures of Hanalei Valley, where they grow Taro root (which Poi is made out of... more on Poi later).

The highlight of the day was hiking a small portion of the 11 mile Kalalau Trail. This has been rated as one of the greatest American hiking trails. I will say it's not for the faint of heart (as you can see in the pictures). It is really steep and very slimy. I saw a few folks with alot of mud on their rears and over most of their legs. Somehow I managed to keep my balance, and get to the top of the first ridge. I got a sweet shot of Ke'e Beach there... just as my camera died. So for all you travelers out there... charge your camera battery before leaving the hotel!

If the Kalalau Trail was the highlight of my day, the Coconut Beach Luau in Kapa'a was the highlight of my evening. Being the only person there by myself was a bit interesting, but I quickly made friends with a group of Danes (that's people from Denmark, Ada... the country North of Germany... but you'd have to know where Germany is) The luau itself was very entertaining, the girls were quite pretty, and the Emcee was as cheesy as Bill Murray's Star Wars lounge act. Best of all was the food... especially the Kalua Pork. It is cooked all day long in a pit heated by lava rocks with pine wood and the pig is wrapped in banana leaves. It has this amazing smokey sweet flavor that I'll never forget. It's a must eat when visiting Hawaii. They also had Poi, which was served with a warning. Being one to cast common sense aside, I tried it. Not as bad as I was expecting, but not something to be tried again. Basically this is Hawaiian wall spackle. A bland substance like a thin purple porridge. I perfer the roasted taro root...

Oh and the open bar was pretty sweet too! Mai Tais anyone?

Island Adventure Blog: Day 4, Koloa, Menehune Fishpond, and South Shore

Hey everyone! A bit of a bummer day... two things actually, my customer on the island needed me to do things this morning, so that elimiated going to the North Shore or West (to the canyon). After lunch I headed to the small village of Koloa, one of Hawaii's first sugar mills. All that was left is the "stack" but very pretty place, with the most lush fields and trees I've seen so far! I kept heading down to the beach to find a few parks and the "Spouting Horn" which was just waves crashing into a hole in the lava bed... nothing cool like the Thunder Hole at Acadia National Park or Old Faithful at Yellowstone. Also a bummer was the National Tropical Botantical Garden was closed for the day! I was hoping to score some sweet pics for my mom back home. Grrrr! I then checked out the Menehune Fishpond. As legend has it, this beautiful pond was made by the Menehune. They are my favorite (to date) Hawaiian cultual icons. They are quasi-leprechaun and part qupid helping people get things accompished quickly. This pond is said to be made by them, long before any man set foot on the island. Read more about the Menuhune here. I also visited the Grove Farm Homestead... an 80 acre civil war era sugar plantation.

Check out the pictures here!

The other bummer of my day is the fact that the former hurricane-turned-tropical-storm Kenneth is heading right up the Hawaiian chain. Bascially means alot of cruddy weather that won't be good for my camera. I still hope to do an ambitious trip to both the North and West shores tomorrow. Pray for my success!

Mahalo!

Island Adventure Blog: Day 3, Wailua River Valley and Keahua Arboretum

Wow... what a great day! I got to wake up late (7am Hawaiian time, 3hr difference for West Coast and 6hrs for the East) and had this strange pork (yes Ada, PORK) and eggs. It was good, but I got the feeling that if I ate it everyday, I'd die within the month. After breakfast, I was on a search for a good internet connection. After my years on the road, I find open WiFi hotspots like a bloodhound on the trail of a escaping convict from a white-collar low security prison.
(I committed to that one, but it fell apart, my apologies. The easy living is making me soft...er)
Of course it was in the lobby of my hotel, and not in some Mircosoftie's timeshare next door. So I plopped down in a beach chair, and got connected! Yeah I'm a geek, in paradise and desperately seeking an Internet connection...

So now that I'm "back" I can keep you updated! After a short training at noon, I went up the Wailua (Ayric-Andy translation: Why-Loo-a, but that's my guess. I stink at English, so my Hawaiian will be about the same) River Valley. I saw the ruins of the old Coco Palms Resort, made famous by Elvis Prestley and some Rat Packers back in the day. It got torn up in a hurricane back in 92' so now there is nothing going on there... very creepy. I guess they are going to renovate it by end of 06'. Probably where I'd like to say next time I come... a great location.

I then headed up river, checking out some cool viewpoints of the river and the Opaeka'a Falls. I then went off schedule and just started driving further up hill. It eventually dead ended at the Keahua Arboretum (at least I think so, because there was a parking lot and trees). About this time my battery died on the camera, so I headed back to the hotel to filter through the pictures, optimize them (with, gasp, Microsoft Photo Editor, it sucked) for the internet, and upload them to flickr.com. So without much further ado... here are the pictures!

(if you desire more pictures of things like, the road, brush, and exciting shots of dirt, all my pictures will be available on the Ayric-Andy Egomania Pack sometime this winter)

Island Adventure Blog: Day 1 and 2, Work Days

Enough said...

Island Adventure Blog: Day 0, Travel Day

Today was the day! I don’t remember much between waking up and getting on the plane, except being driven to the airport by the always generous Mr. P, and checking and waltzing through security (unlike a poor grandma and some brothas’ getting the though treatment). It was a classic example how why airport security is a sham. Either it is blindly random and you waste time searching poor little old ladies, or its profiling the wrong people; some completely benign African-Americans. Somehow, my social cloaking ability has always whisked me through unmolested.

The flight was tough, because I was working on a handful hours of sleep. I kept on wanting to fall asleep but if you sleep 5 hours during the day, you’re not going to sleep that night, and worse, not make it to your job in the morning. Also, the in flight movie was “Herbie: Reloaded”… and as a rule I don’t watch anything with Lindsey Lohan… or any of her cohort group. The couple sitting next to me was nice, but I think from somewhere in Eastern Europe… and not really “English speakers”. So I drifted in and out of consciousness, being woken up by the lumber mill of a man behind me. I mean, I know I snore, camping stories with friends and retreats with co-workers have alerted me to this by the heckling in the morning. But this guy… wow! I am happy to report, no screaming babies, drunken idiots, or scantily clad strippers like some of my past flights.

So as I debark the airplane, I am reminded of my father’s story of his first trip to the island as a young Air Force Airman in the 60’s. How it was like a magical, dreamland of light breezes and sweet air. I am rudely wrenched from his lovely memory by what I can only describe as vapor wall of sticky warmth. Ahh yes! Humidity; the bane of every Northwesterner. The place is lovely, but I’m in the midst of what I have termed “Air Travel Angst” or ATA if you will. ATA is simply being sick and tired of waiting in lines, being flung 30,000 feet in the air at 500 mph, sitting for over 5 hours and fighting streams of people like salmon spawning. I’m sure once I get all my ducks in row, settled in my hotel and eat something, I’ll be all smiles again!

And sure enough I am… one Hawaiian burger and several Mai Tais later (my new favorite drink) I’m a brand new man.

Coming Soon: Island Adventure Blog

As most of you know (and I'm sure I've been obnoxious about it) I'll be heading to the remote island of Kauai, Hawaii in a few days. I know I'll only have a dial-up account at the hotel, but I'll try to blog as much as possible and include many pictures.

Yesterday I proved to myself that if I'm interested enough in something I can be remarkably through and organized! I have this sweet spreadsheet with sections on attractions, beaches, historical sights and hiking spots.

I like to think of myself as the quintessential road warrior and traveler, but this trip is a bit more than I've undertaken (Ada: real word? is undertook worse?) in the past. I'm a tad nervous about flying over 3,000 miles of water instead of grade A, 100% American heartland. But I'm sure it'll be quite the adventure, and knowing me once my lungs are filled with island air and my eyes filled with exotic scenes, I'll be in 7th heaven.

Until then check out these pictures!

Heathers and the Cars They Drive....

Well, as promised, I should officially put down in words how "Heather" and her associated entourage came to be. It actually started, well before my time, with my friends, but it evolved into something else over time.

As legend has it, Julian (may he rest in peace... or enjoy all his time with his girlfriend since we obviously are a horrible and distracting influence on him), was driving with Phil down 2nd St in Seattle, when he looks over and notices a gal in the car next to them. He thinks he knows this girl, so he rolls down his window and yells out "Hey Heather!" Well the gal turns around and it is NOT Julian's friend Heather, but shares alot of common characteristics, a blond, 20 something female, and for the sake of the story, let's just say she drives a Jetta (more on that later). What makes this stick out in my friends mind is the complete confusion on this pseudo-Heather's face. She really wants to be Heather, but knows she isn't. This gives Julian an idea to repeat this to innocent, unsuspecting women on street corners or in cars stopped at lights. Any place that there is a small window of time to interact, and then be gone in a flash. I was there one night when he did this, and it never failed. All the ladies thought, for just the briefest of moments that their names were Heather and they would wave back instantly, but then get very very confused. Yeah, it was immature, but it's what guys do in their early to mid-twenties. Still brings a grin to my face. So that's how Heather started.

Soon, Heather started to become a term for a certain girl. They seem to thrive in Seattle, and more specifically on Queen Anne Hill. As I mentioned before they usually are blond, fairly petite, early professional, early-to-mid 20s, almost exclusively drive Volkswagen Jettas (or Honda Civics if they are younger). Soon we noticed that "Heather" always had a certain kind of guy around her. It never seemed to be someone they were really googly-eyed in love with. These guys seemed very utilitarian. Hence, Peter (and my addition of the last name, O'Tool) was born. He drives typically Ford vehicles (Explorers and Mustangs with white racing stripes). Peter is a tool... something to keep the guys from making moves on "Heather" when she's out on the town. Soon after, we'd be sitting down somewhere with a pitcher of our region's finest brew, and finding out how the people around us where connected to the mythical "heather". Good, fun, people watching / creative writing exercise.

So next time your out and about with friends, look around you and you too might see Heather driving her Jetta with Peter in the passenger seat. Just don't forget to say hi!

A New Blog! Daily Bible Blog...

That's right... because I just can't get enough of posting on THIS blog. (sorry it's been a while) I have started a new blog, http://dailybibleblog.blogspot.com! It's the best way I can think about getting my lazy rear-end into the bible and to really think about what I read. Even better is that you, dear friend and faithful reader, can contribute your thoughts to each day's chapter of the bible. I'd like to get a big ol' discussion going about what each passage means. Check it out!

Happy Birthday to...

ME! That's right, 29 years ago in a hospital in Omaha, Nebraska, yours truely was born! I just spent a wonderful meal with my sister, Lora, eating some of Wyoming's best Prime Rib. Feel free to comment and ask for directions on where to shower your gifts!

Homesickness...

Seems like forever since I've been home when actually it has only been 3 weeks and 4,500 miles. But what is great about homesickness is that it makes you appreciate where you live and the people around you that much more. It's true... absence makes the heart grow fonder. I've seen many parts of Oregon, Idaho, Utah, Colorado, New Mexico and now Wyoming, but no where looks as nice as my condo that I share with my buddy Phil or even my second "home" in Vancouver with Ada. I just want to tell everyone how much my friends mean to me... and if any of you are reading this, know that I miss you alot and your friendships mean the world to me. See ya in a week... I hope!

Reverse Discrimination through the Eyes of a Stupid White Guy

Because I know some of you like disclaimers: this post is entirely for entertainment purposes and not really based on any specific epitaph, slur, or derogatory comment. The story is based in the oversimplified perspective of an exhausted, road weary, sleep deprived white boy. I work with native tribes all the time, and I have a great (but slow) time with them. Please keep this in mind while reading the following. Thank you.
-AAD

So there I was in Dulce, NM putting together some computers for little native kids on the Jicarilla (said HIC-a-REE-a) Navajo Reservation. Great people... very helpful for a guy, way out of his range, to find a place to eat lunch. They recommended "El Ranchero". That should of been a give away right there. So being beat from bustin' my hiney all morning (and starving to boot) I say what the heck and go in. Immediately I find the waitstaff having their lunch. That's cool... until 5 minutes go by and I'm wondering what to do. Eventually the guy just turns around, probably surprised I'm still there, and says to me to sit anywhere (would of been good to know that 5 minutes ago). So I sit down... they finish their lunch, the gal gets up and finally comes over with a menu. A VERY limited menu... but hey, I'm in the middle of nowhere. What is also weird is that all the dishes start at like $7. I'm not stingy or anything, but this place had the look of a $4 plate lunch...not really all that fancy. So I quickly order the first thing on the menu...because it looks like the specialty for the place. Two beef enchiladas, Spanish rice, something I didn't recognize, and beans in a green chili sauce. Sounded delicious.... unfortunately this is when it got really strange.

Shortly after I arrived and sat down, another party was seated and order was taken before me. Then as I waited for my food, a to-go order is put in by another lady, two other groups are seated and orders taken. I see the order come out pretty quickly for the people who came in after me, hoping that my order would soon come out too... I was starving! Now, I should point out that everyone there was 1) local 2) well known by the staff and 3) not white. I wouldn't dare make an assumptions about what everyone's background was, but I definitely stuck out. I then waited for what seemed like eternity (more like another 20 minutes). The waitress comes out with the orders for the other tables but right behind her is the guy who brings me this plate of something. It was a tortilla, with green sauce on it, a few strands of shredded lettuce, these strange popcorn looking things (which turned out to be what I can't pronounce or spell, but where good) and three grains of Spanish rice. I assume, "well maybe this is the toppings for my enchiladas..." so I dig in. This is when I notice two disheartening things. There are two pinto beans in the green sauce... and something that could of been 1/16th of an ounce of beef or a booger. Screw it I thought, not happy at this point, but needing food and to get back on the job. I scarfed down the food and went to pay. The "guy" who was working at that point did fix things for me. He charged me for only half of what I owed because he said my plate was lame and when he mentioned it to the cook, she told him to screw off. Lovely...

So what did I learn from this? That:

1) you shouldn't jump to conclusions even if you're the only member of a certain group in a room, and you don't get any kind of service and a lame plate, possibly made with a phlegm byproduct

2) ignorant and small minded people exist everywhere and come in every shade

3) I get to leave the Rez and go back to my irritatingly progressive, fairly color-blind, rainy home... someday.

Driving Angst...

Well I made it to Denver... over 1300 miles and 24 hours later. Phew...

As I drove listening to a combination of audio book, music and the bible on CD (yeah, it's 70 CD's...) I was confronted by the ugly face of automotive humanity. Mind you, I've seen it all a million times before...

Ayric-Road-Enemy #1... the trucker. Seriously... I can't stand these guys (and probably a few gals). I suspect most are high on meth and drunk, because their driving skills could only be explained in such a way. Here's what truckers do that drive me insane. Take your average, level, perfectly straight, four lane highway. On any given mile there are two truckers. They hate me... it's certain.

They are traveling at the posted truck limit in the right lane... then they see me. The front truck will slow down to the pace of a wounded, three-toed sloth who's lost 2 out of 3 toes... on each paw. The rear truck will slow too... wait until the last nanometer to pull out right in front of me... and go 1/2 mile faster than the toe-less slothmobile. SO I have to sit there... looking at "Wash Me" and various profanity for about 500 miles. Unless there's a boob bar or casino... which they always promptly pull off at. OR...

I'll be traveling my law-minded 9.999999 miles over the limit, cruising along, enjoying the amazing scenery and a particularly good audio book or bible passage that speaks to me... and then I'll see a speck on the horizon in my rear-view mirror. Probably a car I think, and glance down at the gas (always mindful of my worst nightmare.... to run out of gas). Takes perhaps a half a second... when I look up and there is no horizon anymore but the word "MAC" with a vertical stripped background... and a large angry horn blaring behind me. This is when this "driver" tries to park his rig in the passenger's seat. After awhile, this possible missing-link of Teamster evolution passes by me with a brave, grimy, profane salute. I wave and smile back...

What really just confuses me however is the Left-Lane-Driving, What's-Cruise-Control?, Heather. Sorry ladies but after over 70,000 miles in two years... this person NEVER fails to be a woman. Usually with "Peter" (more on "Peters" and "Heathers"...with proper credit given to the coiners... in later posts) who can't possibly drive more than 50 miles without wrinkling his American Eagle shorts or messing up his frosted, spiked hair. So Heather is prattling on to poor Peter... oblivious that there are thousands of cars behind her and she's going somewhere between -2 and 100 miles an hour... in the left lane.
(disclaimer: I am not referring to ALL women, but only the small minority who drive this way)

Usually, however, I cruise along, alone, unharmed or taunted in anyway. Enjoying the most beautiful parts of our great country... until that speck appears behind me, and Heather in front... I pull over and sleep then.

My New Party Game...

Due to the craziness that is my job, I'll have to keep this short... probably not alot of new posts in the next few weeks unless I find some reliable net access on the road.

Tonight, quite by random, while hangin out with Phil and my seldom, MIA-friend, Julian, we played what I could only call the "Movie-Actor" game. Name a movie and then the next person has to name an actor from the movie. Keep it going by the person after them naming a different movie that the actor was in. Rinse and repeat... for hours. Trust me it's quite fun and you can keep it going for quite some time. Probably the most fun I've had in years... or maybe it was the margaritas at Kirkland's Cactus (or iCactus! if you prefer).

Off to Denver on Saturday! Three weeks in the Rockies comin' up!

Signing up at 24-hour Fitness... or How I Got Revenge for Gym Class Trauma

So my other great friend (condo-mate, uber-coffee supplier and all around great bud) Phil got me to sign up at our local gym, 24-Hour Fitness. Now for me to actually JOIN a gym is quite an amazing feat. I come with some physical fitness baggage.

I was not a "sporty" kid. I was a nerd... (was? am? whatever...) and I pretty much liked all things that didn't involve sports or broccoli. I remember the long litany of Igor-esque gym teachers (of equal measure male AND female) who drove me nuts with whistles and inane things like, rope climbing, running until you puke, sweating, and (my middle-school favorite) Dodgeball (which I promptly boycotted and became the seething hatred of my ex-military sergeant gym teacher). Then there was my High School gym teacher. A raving, man-hating, ugly-as-sin, lesbian. Why someone with this disposition teaches 14 year old guys gym is beyond me. It was always apparent that she couldn't stand any of us, and in particular me. She probably thought I was a total wuss, and she would of been right. But something she didn't really let anyone know is how to safely lift weights. So let's put this picture together; 14 year old boys - knowledge + competitiveness + really really heavy weights = me trying to beat another guy on squats, losing my balance and tearing a good chunk of my back muscles. My teacher was probably pretty happy about that...

(side note: my junior year Adv English teacher was also the football coach (???) and would never give me anything higher than a C because I was a tall, well built guy, in band (gasp!)... who didn't play on his team that never won a game.)

So not only do I have the long list of sadistic, sad, washed out gym teachers... but then there are the countless peers who, for the lack of anything meaningful in their life, throw all their chips into athleticism. Now... sometime well before I was born, the athletic spirit had merit, a focus on building one up and working well with others. Alas, by the time I was born it had become the opiate of the masses, the thing that all else was unfairly measured, and a complete distraction to what I though really mattered (AP classes and getting the nerve to talk to cute girls) But in the end it gave me the outside-looking-in perspective that I quite enjoy.

SO back to current events... there was a "deal" (which I'm always skeptical of) at 24-fitness that they were waving all fees and signup charges. Get this, NORMALLY, they charge something like $70 to $100 bucks for "filing paperwork" So all those jocks who didn't learn anything, well they work in gyms now, and they think that filing paper work is REALLY tough, so they charge alot for it. Like I said, I got past that and got a super deal through my buddy, Phil. So now I just pay $15 bucks a month, keep my head low, and hope that the manager isn't my old High School gym teacher.

Ayric vs. Andy

So if you're new to the whole Ayric/Andy universe you might be confused (and if you're a vet, you're probably still confused) so let's start with something "easy" like my name.

Ayric (simply said like Eric... but spelled much sweeter) is my first name, Andrew is my middle... and something long and Germanic for a last name. Easy right? Nope... Ayric is ALSO my father's name... and a name I really like having. UNFORTUNATELY... having two Ayric's around the old homestead wasn't gonna work. So I was Andy for the first 20 or so years of my life. (I found out my "real" name at age 8... talk about confusing) I think my pretty, uncomplicated "Andy World" started to unravel when I met Ada. (who's world hasn't after meeting Ada?) Seeing that, yes indeed, Ayric is a killer name... she refused to refer to me as Andy. So she got me used to Ayric... while all my other friends and family called me Andy. Then in the summer of 98' I worked with two other "Andys"...so I dubbed myself the newly adopted, Ayric... Fast forward to 2002... where I worked under the name Ayric (in a failed attempted to off "Andy" once and for all) I also met some of my current friends, one being another "Andy". So now all my friends started to call me Ayric too.

Then I applied for my current job... and it slipped... Andy. So now at work I'm called Andy, my friends call me Ayric and my family calls me Andy but the bill collectors call me Ayric.

That's just my name... it gets more complicated from there...

Yes... I TOO Have a Blog

By complete accident and no fault of my own... I have a blog. My dearest friend and alter-ego, Ada, has a though/rant-invoking blog at http://absolutelycorrect.blogspot.com (potty mouth warning...just FYI). To respond to her blog, you have to make your own. Happy about this... I am not. Why? Many might think that I am quite happy to opine about any random thing that comes along. Yeah, it's true, but I like to do it on someone else's upkept and "relevant" blog. NOW I guess I have to do it too... and promote it and blah blah blah... maybe I won't tell anyone... that would make having to worry about things like grammar and punctuation and spelling completely unnecessary. So if you have found this... well then that idea didn't work either

Let me just say this... you might be entertained... you might be informed. Mostly likely you will realize that am the most illogical debater, the most creative speller, the most inventive grammerist, and that I have no respect for the English language. Maybe I'll just dump links... maybe I'll write something that will change the world... who knows. Keep watching...