An Inconvenient Truth

I ended up liking the movie, but Al Gore’s voice and humor ran a little long for me. He thinks he is a comedian at times, but I didn't know if he would bust jokes during this movie besides the now infamous, “I am Al Gore. I used to be the next president of the United States.”

The jokes do continue, at least into the seventh minute. There are some jokes after that, they just aren't good.

I believe in global warming. It is tragic. There is no doubt about that. I appreciate what Al Gore is doing. His presentation is, surprisingly, somewhat entertaining and only at times all about Al.

His presentation on the increasing strength of hurricanes is essential, but his focus on Hurricane Katrina is a bit lopsided. The reason Katrina was so destructive, at least to New Orleans, was due to the Big Easy’s spectacularly crappy hurricane defenses. Katrina was not nearly as strong as Hurricane Dean. In August of 2005, when Katrina came ashore, New Orleans didn’t even have protection against a 100-year storm, protection which is now being built, but it won’t come close to Amsterdam’s protection against a 10,000-year-storm. True story. That’s impressive.

Gore’s bit of the slideshow when he talks about an ice shelf in Antarctica and ice in Greenland that if melted would raise the sea level by twenty feet is frightening.

An Inconvenient Truth isn’t the “sudden jolt” Gore talks about us needing before we commit whole heartedly to saving the environment. I wish it was, but it just doesn’t seem to be enough. Unfortunately, Hollywood has raised most of the country. We only seem to be awakened to action by catastrophes. The catastrophe of global warming doesn’t move fast enough to scare a huge portion of the population into action. It should. It hasn't yet, and that is what scares me the most.

Gore leaves it at this: there is hope. We have the capacity to reduce our carbon emissions; it is the political will of the United States that needs to change. He points out that when that will has changed in the past the United States has done some awesome things. He hopes that the change happens before it is too late. I can agree with that.

Watch the movie. Check the site. Turn your computer off at night. Do something.

www.climatecrisis.net

I Heart Libraries

Today is a documentary day. Kate is at work until 10:30. I am at home with An Inconvenient Truth, Enron: The Smartest Guys in the Room, and Super Size Me.

Right now I am finally watching Super Size Me. Obesity was already under scrutiny before this movie, but this film must have put the fast food industry under even more pressure because it seems to be a lot of rehash to me. I think this is the case because I read most of The Omnivore’s Dilemma and because fast food, and its unhealthy side effects, has come under so much scrutiny that it is hard to go a week without seeing a report about said subject somewhere in the media.

I don’t know if he is going to make it all thirty days. It is day 21 and poor Mr. Spurlock is having heart pain and gaining layers of fat with each day. You can tell the poor bloke is seriously concerned about this experiment.

I knew it was coming. He is finally trying to contact McDonalds. This isn’t going to go well.

Wow. Day 27. He is going to make it. This is disgusting.

After 13 calls to McDonalds Mr. Spurlock is finally able to get a hold of a lady he was looking for. She isn’t helpful.

Day 30. He has made it to the last McSupper. He gained 24.5 pounds in this time.

After he was done it took him over a year, I think, to lose that weight.

The film was powerful, depressing, and it gives you a reason to detest regular consumption of McDonalds, if you didn’t have one already.

I want to know what Mr. Spurlock is doing now. He had some show about him doing something different for 30 days at a time. I haven’t seen a commercial for that show in well over a year. I don’t think that show was successful. This isn’t that surprising. Mr. Spurlock threw his whole life into this experiment. You can tell he is seriously concerned about the fast food industry and obesity. To expect the same effort and success in a television show covering, I assume, a wide range of subjects, is too much.

He looks at pictures

There are a lot of reasons he enjoys Facebook. First among them: pictures. He loves looking at pictures of friends, old and new. There is nothing like doing some fine quality stalking by taking a flip through someone's photo album. He can bypass all that silly conversation and awkward messaging and go straight to the good stuff, the visual update.

He gets visual updates a lot from college friends. However, this is where he often gets confused. There don’t seem to be that many people leaving his college town. This seems a bit sad, unless they are all going into med school. On the bright side, UW doesn’t have a med school, so that can’t be the case. What is the case? He doesn’t know. It might be a case of too many drinks at 3^rd Street, or too many Stones (as in thirty Keystone Lights, or 30 Stones).

All he knows for sure is that he saw some of these people for the first time his freshman year. He himself took five years to graduate and has been gone a year and a half. So, he wonders, what the hell is that dude still doing in Laramie? Look, he says, you don’t need to grow up, but you do need to move on.

Winning, it turns out, isn't the only thing

I don’t know what sparked the thought, but I was thinking today about those infamous lectures you get from coaches after a bad loss or something similar. Now, I know that coaches have to get stern every once in a while. I am fine with that. And, throughout my swimming career I developed a high level of tolerance for their bullshit. The first time I really saw the shit hit the fan was when I was a sophomore in high school. The coach, Scott, sat us down in an isolated corner of the pool deck so we were walled in by a couple of diving boards. We were just a bunch of wet high school boys that were 90% naked and out for a swim. We were looking for fun. Swimming, at this point in any one of our lives, should not have been treated as a job. Scott seemed to disagree. He blew up, telling us we should be ashamed of our performance and that he thought we were so much better than that. He wasn’t proud to be a Lambkin (yes, that was our mascot) that day and he told us we shouldn’t be either. The best part, this was after a win. We almost doubled the score of the team we swam against that day. We were unstoppable that year, easily winning every dual meet and going on to win conference. I wasn’t really sure what Scott was looking for. He never said. He just said that we sucked that day. I guess it was a performance because we didn’t 1-2-3 our opponents in every event.

Scott became a notorious yeller. I hated feeling his wrath from across the pool with a glare or from a foot away when he would be foaming at the mouth during his oral tirade against my swimming abilities. So, when I qualified for State that year at Conference and even got the Lambkins a few points in the meantime, one of the reasons I was ecstatic was that I wouldn’t have to face Scott’s wrath after I got out of the pool. Actually, he was jumping up and down on the side of the pool for me. He was so happy. And, I loved seeing him so happy, even if he was only happy because he only cared about winning.

My tolerance level wasn’t tested again until college, and then many times, but I want to focus on one lecture my college coach gave us after a meet against UCSB. We were back in Mission Viejo after a long ride and the coach let the girls off the bus. He told the guys to stay where we were. I prepped myself and took a deep breath thinking it might prepare me for the absurdity of his words. Usually it did, but not this time.

The rant he launched into was easily the most morale-breaking, disgraceful outburst I have ever heard from a coach. He was really pissed we didn’t swim best in-season times up in Santa Barbara. He was pissed we lost. Blah, blah, blah. It went on for quite a while and I could see the girls out of the corner of my eye standing in the doorways of their rooms, watching it all go down.

I know he said he was ashamed to have any gear on his body representative of the school. He was also ashamed to call us a men’s team. He called us all women. Oh God, I checked between the legs just to make sure. Phew. I know there was more, but at one point it got so ugly that I just couldn’t bare it anymore. I must have thought about something else for a while like sleep, but I know I eventually was contemplating ending my swimming career right then and there.

I don’t know what he exited the bus with. I looked up after a moment and he was gone. One of the captains stood up and preached in a roundabout way that the coach was justified in saying those things. I wasn’t buying it. I still don’t buy it. I couldn’t believe this teammate was saying that we were deserving of such horrible words.

Surely, nothing the coach just said made any of us want to keep on swimming, at least for him, right? Wrong. There were several that thought otherwise. I guess what I am saying, is that some of us justified the verbal abuse in the name of sport and winning and we honestly thought the coach was justified in ripping into us like that. How incredibly stupid and ignorant to follow a coach after that kind of eruption. That was the last straw for me. He would never again be a leader for me. It was an awakening of sorts. All I needed were my teammates. I would never let him lead the team for me from then on. I know that I wasn’t seen as a leader on the team because I didn’t respect the coach after that, but I didn’t care, I wanted the team to establish expectations of a coach, and that was something that those who justified his lecture didn’t have. Perhaps I saw them as beyond saving, but I was done showering any praise on a coach to win a recruit, to calm my teammates, or to paint a pretty picture of the coach-athlete dynamic at the university.

Opinions of the Day

Worst marriage advice actually given to me:

Keep separate checking accounts.

Worst interview question asked of me:

Why are manhole covers round?

St. Vrain Road

Sweet. I'm just testing out Blogger's new video upload feature. This video is from the summer of 2005, the summer we discovered St. Vrain Road, a nasty 40 mph ride. Erik and Kyle lead the way on their boards. Next is Wes and Collin. And, yes. The volume is up all the way. This was taken with an old digital camera that didn't record sound. Classic.

Delicious

One of the best segments I have ever seen on The Daily Show. A history lesson. Observe.

Shock Effect

A horrible crime has been committed in Merseyside, England. An 11-year-old boy was shot for no reason besides maybe a show of power by one of two local gangs. It is sad, really, but something stood out in this Guardian article. It was Gordon Brown’s description of the killing as a “heinous crime that shocked the whole of the country”.

It was one murder, and yet gang violence like this in America is rarely the focus of the entire country, and when it is, it never shocks the whole country. It happens every day because we love our guns.

Wouldn’t you want to be shocked?

And....action!

I was in a movie today. You might be confused; I was—most of the day. My acting career was launched by one line as an extra in a movie that is being shot here in town. Yep. It’s true. The director needed some people for a classroom shoot. I emailed the director. The director emailed back. Ah, the wonders of craigslist.

I have no acting experience whatsoever. The most, I guess you could say, was a drama class my freshman year of high school. I have always wanted to give it a try, which may stun most of you because acting, I think, goes against the grain of my entire being. I don’t consider myself to be loud, boisterous, or one that loves cracking jokes and breaking into monologues for the entertainment of anyone within earshot. I keep to myself mostly. I am shy in large groups. I don’t speak loudly. In fact, I mumble a lot and you would not want me addressing a graduating class. Ever.

Try I did today though, to act that is. I had one line. “Why do you want to know that?” I am sure I looked the fool, but I didn’t really care. I think this movie has bigger things to worry about than my line screwing up its popularity, success, impact, or whatever you want to call it. Honestly, I loved being there. It was fascinating to see the work that goes into filming a movie. I admit it, at times it was extremely boring. There are swaths of nothingness that the actors, and especially the extras, are subjected to, but I amused myself with constant observation and a running commentary in my head.

The commentary went something like this.

God it’s early. It’s 8 am. I’ve been here an hour and haven’t done anything.

When the actors look at me do they know I am sort of scared about this? Do they know I don’t know crap about acting?

Are we really filming in this classroom? This place is a dump.

Who are these people? Who makes movies in Milwaukee?

Why did that guy just laugh…? That wasn’t funny. Wow, do all actors have a bad sense of humor?

Stop talking to me, really. I don’t know you and you aren’t very good at telling stories. Shouldn’t you be better at that because you are sort of trying to do that for a living?

What? You have a career doing shoots for Kohl’s? Crazy. I didn’t think that was possible.

That’s a nice camera. Can I ask how much that costs? No. That would be rude.

Free soda, chips, coffee, and pizza. That’s nice since I’m not getting a dollar for this and spending nine bucks on parking.

Oh my gosh. The director just gave me a line. Do I have to speak? I bet he can see my pulse from across the room. I can feel it bloating my neck out with every beat. Please calm down before you have to talk.

It went on like that most of the day. I ended up being quite impressed by the abilities of the actors around me that were in lead roles. Having been there today I know I couldn’t have delivered those lines like they did. They sounded good, but they may look horrible onscreen. I don’t really know. The crew impressed me too. The cameraman had this idea about how every line should sound and whenever he spoke up about it he was always right. The way he said it just struck a “duh” through me. The director even has a role. He had a few lines today and made each take sound different but good.

I don’t know if my experience today was what I expected it to be. It seemed to fit in perfectly at times with my imagination, but at other times, not so much. I think it kept me interested enough to try something like this again. Maybe it is too early to say such things. Well, I just did.

Are you looking for something?

I am going to take a break now from writing and finish Bill Bryson’s I’m A Stranger Here Myself. Once again, Bryson hasn’t failed to make me laugh out loud several times. He makes the ordinary extraordinarily funny for me. He is a genius. I envy his abilities at times. After I finish it I am going to the library to pick up I Am Legend, a vampire tale that has been made into a movie with Will Smith.

Okay, I am reading now...

…Haggis. *Writing to self* Don’t forget this word. It is sheep intestine. You had a Braveheart Burger at some pub so old that Rob Roy used to drink there. The Braveheart Burger was like any other burger except the patty was made of Haggis.

A great quote. “To ensure that no one buys anything, they generally leave these sections unmanned. I believe there are whole floors at John Lewis of Oxford Street that have not seen a member of staff since just before the war.” Bryson on shopping for furniture in London. I realize this might not make any sense to you if you haven't been inside a John Lewis store, a Selfridges, or a Harrods, or, for that matter, been on Oxford Street. Sorry. I can't help you there.

“Where’s your primary shut-off then?”

“They forgot that, too.”

“You’re joking.”

“I wish I was.”

“Well, what would you do if you had a burst pipe?”

Now this I knew. First, I would hop around excitedly, going “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!” as you might if, say, you looked down and unexpectedly found your legs on fire. Then I would try to stuff something like a sofa cushion into the leak, making it worse. Then I would hop about some more. Finally, I would dash out into the street and flag down passing vehicles.

…The above passage is Bryson’s imagined conversation with a washer repairman. Bryson absolutely fears confronting the handy man who knows Bryson doesn’t know anything about the problem, whether it be cars, appliances, or a computer. I have that same fear when it comes to cars.

…In the last chapter Bryson addresses why they moved to America from England.

There is a great deal about America that is deeply appealing. There are all the obvious things that outsiders always remark on—the ease and convenience of life, the friendliness of the people, the astoundingly abundant portions, the intoxicating sense of space, the cheerfulness of nearly everyone who serves you, the notion that almost any desire or whim can be simply and instantly gratified.

My problem was that I had grown up with all this, so it didn’t fill me with quite the same sense of novelty and wonder. I failed to be enchanted, for instance, when people urged me to have a nice day.

He goes on, but the whole of the last chapter was a fabulous end to another good Bryson tale.

Tonight on TV

The Man. The Myth. The Legend. Well, whatever he is, Barack Obama is on The Daily Show tonight. Just a heads up for those of you out there that have cable television.

Dirty Dean

I was watching the news this morning and some CNN correspondent was riding out Hurricane Dean at a resort south of Cancun. In the background I saw waves and wind battering the exact place Kate and I honeymooned almost two months ago. The CNN guy was riding the storm out at our honeymoon location.

At first I was like, yeah, Aventura Spa Palace. Oh, wait. This isn't cool. We really enjoyed everything about that place and the people that work there and now it is all getting destroyed.

It was a bit surreal to see the landscape of the resort transformed into a raging sea. I have been trying to find footage of it on YouTube. No luck yet.

*I've been waiting for over two years to use this blog title.

He lives in Wisconsin

Standing in the Pick N Save parking lot a thought occurred to him. He lives in Wisconsin. He isn’t just visiting this place. This is where he makes his residence with his new wife who is rooting herself here with her new job.

As far as he can tell, his approach to Wisconsin has been similar to his approach to a new country. He may be here for a little bit, but he isn’t about to call it home. He’ll pick and choose through Wisconsin’s offerings and weigh later the benefits of a life lived here versus a life lived where he feels at home in Colorado.

There are a few benefits. He enjoys the new physical landscape of the earth. The air is different. The forests are thick. The water meanders more casually in this flat ground than the jagged surface of his home. He is told that people here are amiable for the most part, but his situation has led him to believe otherwise. His situation being: a general frustration with most things Wisconsin, which leads to a nitpicky, highly critical evaluation of most things Wisconsin.

I don’t know how much I can blame him. However, I am worried about him focusing too much on the negative and denying Milwaukee its right to be explored, folded, prodded, and experimented with. I also am worried about you reading this and saying out loud to yourself, “Oh damn, Bryce. Just get over it already” or “Not this again. Click.” I can’t blame you for that either, but a man’s got to vent, right? Even if it is to a keyboard.

Padilla

First read this over at The Daily Dish.

Then read this.

It is all incredibly disturbing. When I was writing about what I saw on the news yesterday, the Padilla verdict was read. To be honest, I had forgotten a lot about that trial and didn't feel I could write about it with any insight, not to mention humor. I knew I could count on Mr. Sullivan jogging my memory a bit.

Cable News Roundup

Right now Anne Coulter is on Fox News in a round table discussion of OJ’s book being published. I hope that Fox News is the only 24-hour news channel that still gives this woman air time. I say this because there isn’t anything that Coulter could do that Fox News would banish her for.

MSNBC is hitting the weather report strong right now. They are showing Houston right now being dumped on by tropical depression Erin. There are stranded cars, people wading through the water, and thick clouds. Nothing appears to be severe or life threatening, but we love disaster, don’t we? I mean, if there is anything that can bring us all together, it’s a disaster of some relation to the weather, the earth, terrorism, etc.

Whatever happened to Headline News? I remember it actually covering the news back in the day when they would loop the stories they have and then work in new ones as the news came to them. It was very straight forward, not that much bullshit for a cable news channel. Now I rarely find worthy news on the channel. Instead I can rely on Headline News now to give me updates on Lindsay Lohan, Britney Spears, K-Fed, Paris Hilton, and Nicole Richie. If it is not that, then it is Nancy Grace or Glenn Beck. Nancy is always running her mouth about another kidnapping or disappearances as if she is going to solve all the cases by talking them to death. Beck, well, I can’t watch his show. I get my Beck clips on The Daily Show.

Now all the cable news channels are paying close attention to Hurricane Dean. “This storm means business,” the CNN Weatherman says. The channels all want so desperately for a horrible hurricane season. They talked it up last year—the first hurricane season since Katrina—but the season sputtered out without even moderate damage to the Caribbean region. That was one of the media’s biggest embarrassments last year. Nothing has changed. This season is supposed to be intense, severe, and extremely taxing on all those living in the paths of hurricanes. I just hope it is so cable news can use all their cool storm-tracking tools, display neat storm graphics, compose new hurricane theme music, and get there word-sleuths on the job by coming up with something like “Hurricane Hysteria”, “Katrina Part Deux”, or “Disaster in Daytona.”

Running for office?

"You don't want to use the word "outsider" too much in your campaign, however. So feel free to have your team of seasoned campaign managers, political operatives, and speech writers use synonyms like "grassroots", "maverick", and "populace". Just make sure no one looks at your business cards and decides to use "Billionaire Financier". The important thing is you know nothing about Washington and don't have a clue how the system operates." - Jon Stewart, America

Memories of Summer

The days growing longer.

Hot afternoons of disc golf at the Loo. Losing discs. A toothless grin finding them.

Going on a run with Wes.

Trips to Chipotle.

Redbox rentals.

Knowing that the summer was going to come to an abrupt, unusual ending.

Work coming to a close at Starbucks.

Freshly cut grass.

Beautiful, dry, Colorado days.

Desire for change.

Resisting change.

Short reunions.

Long goodbyes.

And a long road ahead of us.

*A nod to mPb. I am not stealing a blog title, but as soon as I wrote memories of I thought of Warmy blog titles.

Seriously, Dick

Ah. Years ago the University of Wyoming was proud to be the alma mater of the Veep. I would be too, if Cheney didn't pull a 180.

Cribs - Milwaukee Edition

This is for all of you that might not be able to view this video on facebook because you don't have an account. So, Mom and Dad, I hope you enjoy. We took a longer, more in-depth look at the apartment in another video, but I have been having trouble uploading it.

Attacked Again

As the country watches and waits for news from Huntington, Utah, where six miners are believed trapped since Monday, the Middle East has erupted in cheers over the second successful terrorist attack in two weeks in the United States.

From the Anbar Province to the residence of Supreme Leader, Ayatollah Ali Khamenei, members of Just Into Hating All ‘Dem Independent Steamrollers of Truth from the States, or J.I.H.A.D.I.S.T.S, celebrated word of the collapsed mine by stomping on effigies of President Bush and chanting “Death to America” all while firing their Kalashnikovs into the air.

Shortly after the mine collapse Osama Bin Laden released a tape, apparently made months ago, in which he details the history of the making of the I-35W Bridge over the Mississippi River in 1967. Bin Laden’s first illegitimate son, Ahmed, born to Bin Laden when he was just three-years-old, is believed to have been smuggled into the United States in an opium crate early in 1967. At that time, Ahmed was just shy of his seventh birthday, but already had a devout hatred of the free world.

“Praise be to Ahmed!” Bin Laden says at the end of the video. “My son is the true mastermind of this glorious act.”

But just how did Ahmed bring the bridge down? Experts say that the reinforcing gussets of the I-35W Bridge were put under extraordinary pressure, but they should have held despite extra weight from ongoing construction on the bridge. This is where the mystery begins. No one knows for sure, but it is rumored that Ahmed, after making his way to the Midwest, was fishing by the Mississippi that fateful day in 1967. In his pack he only had a rationed amount of falafel (enough to enable completion of the mission), a vest laden with C4, and a few structurally deficient gussets. Sometime that day Ahmed was able to make the switch, putting his gussets in the real gusset pile, and being sure to put them at the top.

U.S. Intelligence reports have come up with nothing on Ahmed or his whereabouts. It is rumored in the Middle East that if Ahmed could have made it east, he was to use the C4 in another attack. Superstition among locals in Afghanistan is that he failed to make it to New York City, and that his C4 was found decades later by Timothy McVeigh in his hometown of Pendleton, NY, thus, sparking McVeigh’s interest in bomb-making. Not until the most recent Bin Laden tape had authorities begun to investigate the McVeigh-Al Qaeda connection.

Regardless of how the attacks were carried out, it has become clear to this nation’s citizens that the Heartland of America is now under attack. Al Qaeda has struck a popular destination for millions of Midwesterners and has now lashed out at the heart of the coal industry, thus making America rely even more on the oil in the hands of its enemies.

I like IMDB.com

The Goonies is an American classic. What do I think of when I hear The Goonies?

The truffle shuffle.

Sloth.

Chunk.

A bad ass Jeep killing some monster trucks in an ocean side race.

The Fratellis.

Rocky road ice cream.

A cool water slide that I have always wanted to go on.

And, One-Eyed Willy.

I found myself at IMDB.com today. I said hello. We chatted a little and I got to doing what I went there to do, that was looking up The Journey of Natty Gann. It’s an old Disney movie that I watched many times as a kid. I wanted to see if the girl who played Natty was still acting. She sure is. I could tell from the extensive list below “Filmography” she stays pretty busy. My curiosity was quenched, but I took a look around on the site bumping into old friends like Star Wars, Denzel Washington, and finally, The Goonies.

As I was scrolling down the cast list I clicked on John Matuszak. Mr. Matuszak played Sloth in The Goonies. Well, John used to play in the NFL. His makeup for The Goonies took five hours to put on. He died from heart failure due to extensive steroid use in 1989. He is now buried in Milwaukee. Rest in peace, Sloth.

Email Overload

I have a little project I need to get working on.

Kate has used her UW email address since I met her. All my emails have been going there ever since. She has deleted the worthless ones I think, but that still leaves 550 emails from me that I need to email to myself now or save on my computer so they don't get deleted. UW is going to shut her email address down in a month or a little more.

I better get started.

The Read

I don’t think anyone has noticed, but I took a link off the blogroll a few days back. I would love to keep you all on there. I would love for there to be more people on there.

However, to be on there you need to do some blogging. Most of you are much more generous than I am with your blogrolls. That's great. I know why that is…for the most part. But this is my blog, and if you haven’t blogged in over two months you will definitely get the ax. It makes sense though. Your blog can't be on "The Read" if it's not on your write.

Toodles.

Mulholland Drive....what?

Bryce watched Mulholland Drive last night. Well, he finished it at least. He watched the first twenty minutes while he was eating lunch yesterday. That is beside the point. The point being: what is the big deal about this movie? He knew it was going to be weird, but he still expected a good movie.

Later today he read its Wikipedia entry, a reliable source for such investigations. It turns out that Mulholland Drive came out to critical acclaim, didn’t perform well at the box office, and now has a cult following. Bryce leaned back in his chair. This is where all the movies end up that just are too weird for their own good.

The director did his job. He was creative; creative enough to win some awards for the movie, but creative enough to make Bryce just laugh when it was all over. Bryce is sorry. He isn’t going to be amazed by the cult classic just because it is that. It still has to be a good movie. There can’t be completely random crap thrown into the movie to make it cool. Ooh. Ah. That scene was so weird. Bryce isn’t going to buy that.

What is the glue of this movie? What, if anything, keeps it from falling into a jumbled mess of storyline with no possible connection? Well, Bryce would say, “Nothing holds it together. Well, maybe the soundtrack. From the opening credits the soundtrack is gripping. I thought the subwoofer was going to shake its way through the floor.” Honestly though, after reading the Wikipedia entry Bryce was astonished. He couldn’t explain the popularity. According to many, the director pulled the oldest trick in the book. The first two thirds of the movie was a dream. Isn’t that cute? What a copout.

Finally, the copout. The copout is a failure to fulfill a commitment or responsibility or to face a difficulty squarely. The real copout is by the fans, Bryce figured out. They like the movie because they can watch it and not be accused of having a girl-on-girl porno fetish.

Miscellany of His Mind

His wife is studying in the other room while listening to the Milwaukee country station.

He finished The Historian last night. He couldn’t set it down once he broke into the last one-hundred pages. The book ended nicely. Not everything fell together, but that is a little more realistic, he thought. Were the preceding 678 pages necessary to achieve the same feeling at the end? He doesn’t think so, but they were entertaining none the less.

He is still unemployed and doing what he can. He told me he is sick of talking about it with people. Just sick. He knows people want to know, but don’t ask him. That is my job. When he has something to report he will tell me and I will relay the information. Got it? Good. Until then let’s talk about books, movies, America’s Dairyland, and Colorado sunsets.

He has never had the library system of a big city at his fingertips. It exhilarates him. Sometimes I have to keep him on task because he searches for books on the online catalog. He found one today. He told me it wasn’t at the nearest library though. I told him to look again. Lo and behold, there is a way to select a book and have it shipped to the nearest library. We discovered that together. We reserved one copy of I Am Legend for pick up at the Oak Creek branch.

Before he reads I Am Legend he needs to finish I’m A Stranger Here Myself, by Bill Bryson. Bryson is one of his favorite authors. This book is a collection of short essays that Bryson wrote upon returning to the United States—his homeland—after a 20-year hiatus in England. Bryson’s sense of humor is so dry and cynical it makes Bryce burst out in laughter in front of anyone and no one. Bryce says it isn’t that long of a book, but he will finish it soon. It is certainly not like The Historian.

He is on a vampire kick. That’s what I Am Legend is about. It is being made into a movie. Will Smith is in it. You might have seen the preview, he says. Smith is left on Manhattan Island. He is the only human. Everyone else is undead. He thinks that Smith fights off the vampires. He doesn’t know. There is an itch to find out, and he will when Oak Creek gets the book in.

His new favorite place to rent movies is the library. They are free, and you get them for a week. He is going to go watch the rest of Mulholland Drive later.

His eyes get dried out by the ceiling fan above him. He ends up blinking a lot. I can tell he is getting annoyed by it. I think we should go now. He is waving goodbye to the computer. Goodbye.

The Wisconsin State Fair

The Wisconsin State Fair may be about a lot of things, but mainly it's about food. Lining every walkway of the fairgrounds are booths selling almost anything edible, that is, if you aren’t a vegan or vegetarian. This is meat eating country. And since Wisconsin is America’s Dairyland, you’d be hard pressed to find something lactose-free or with half the fat.

Actually, Wisconsin’s products don’t come fattening enough for fair-goers. Everything is deep-fried. The health nuts get the deep-fried pickle spears or eggplant. The more liberal mouths chomp on deep-fried mozzarella bits or cheese curds.

Everyone indulges in the most famous treat of the fair, the Crème Puff. The line for them is a good five minutes long. The Crème Puff starts as an ordinary, thin pastry. An assembly line of teenagers build the pastries non-stop for the hordes of fans who have come from every corner of the state and beyond for the main attraction. The pastry is cut in half and the bottom half receives a four inch high tower of whipped cream. The top half is lightly pressed onto the whipped cream. The final touch is a blizzard of powdered sugar. That’s it. Once you scarf your Wisconsin State Fair Crème Puff down you can safely go home. If you do one thing at the fair, you do that.

If you fancy the homegrown products the fair offers a Wisconsin Products tent. Everything under this roof is born, bred, raised, and slaughtered in Wisconsin. The tent has the fair staples, but it also features Wisconsin milk, meat, candied apples, grilled cheese sandwiches made with Real Wisconsin Cheese, and the sausages and bratwursts.

And what would a Wisconsin event be without a wide selection of beer. The only problem…they all have Miller somewhere in the name. Damn.

This one's for the Mick

We went to the Wisconsin State Fair today. There will be more about that later, but for now, I have a picture for a good friend of mine. I wish you were with us to get a pint of the Irish brew.

My Favorite Picture

Guardian Films

The Guardian's Sean Smith's videos of life in Iraq for our troops and their citizens won't be shown in the US all that much, if at all, so click on the links and watch them yourself. The videos are graphic, gut-wrenching, and saddening. They are what our news media can't report...honesty.

Part I

Part II

Today at Barnes and Noble

While strolling around the store I gravitated toward the bargain books. This aisle is always filled with huge photography books of world famous cities, landmarks, and countries.

I picked up a book on Scotland and flipped through its enormous, heavy pages. As familiar places flickered by, the corners of my mouth would twinge slightly in a pseudo-smile or I would let out a deep sigh of joy and reflection. As I set that book down, another one caught my eye. This one was on London. I’m a sucker. I picked it up.

Why do I love London so much? Beyond the museums, people, pubs, churches, and history, why am I still obsessed with the place? It doesn’t make a whole lot of sense sometimes. I was there for four months. I would rather visit London a second, third, and fourth time before visiting elsewhere first.

London makes me feel like someone. Longmont didn’t necessarily make me feel like a nobody. London put me on the map, not the map of popularity or success, but the map of independence. Perhaps London put me on the map of importance. I felt an incredible sense of pride and joy as I strolled along those streets hardened by hundreds of years of history. History happens in London, it always will. I knew this throughout my soul and mind by the time I had to leave. I was one of 7 million in a city that was one.

London is built up and has no room for expansion. Unlike in the U.S., where there is so much space planners see no need to put things next to each other, in London the planners have no room to build because the place is 1,000 years old. There is a true heart of the city, perhaps a heart more recognizable than the center of any city I have visited in the United States.

As I travel into that heart I am transported to the epicenter of the Western world and modern civilization. At its core London can enlighten the most un-expecting traveler. I wasn’t un-expecting. I knew the city would teach me, but how much? I had no idea.

And in the midst of London teaching me I became enchanted with its architecture, culture, people, beauty, and its transportation system. London has taken a piece of me and I have of it. I want more. Ideally, I want more by going back and living there. For now, I have to take the old-fashioned approach by following London in word, audio, and film, in order to live there because a part of me always will.

*This is not my photo. Don't use it.

You say that I'm a dreamer, I say you're a non-believer

LOS ANGELES(AP) After months of rumors, Nicole Richie confirmed Tuesday that she is pregnant. "Yes I am. We are," Richie told ABC News' Diane Sawyer for an interview to be aired this week. "I'm almost four months." Richie's boyfriend, Good Charlotte frontman Joel Madden, is the father, she told ABC, which issued a news release about the interview.

"When I speak, it's like no one understands..." - "Screamer" - Joel - Good Charlotte

Not surprising, Joel. Not surprising.

Cribs: Milwaukee Edition

There is a video of our place on facebook. So, all of you that have an account there you can go check it out. I am still trying to get one on the blog for everyone to see. I will upload another one to facebook as well. Cheers.

McDonald's New Soda Size

File this one under why are Americans obese? Why are there 4,100 new cases of Diabetes everyday? Or, simply, why I might have muffin top, a bingo wing, or back cleavage.

“McDonald’s Supersize soda just got a friendlier name. Hugo is the new name for the 42-oz. (1.25L) soft drink, which has more than 400 calories.”

“When the fast-food chain opened in 1955, the largest soda was 7 oz. (about 200mL).”

This is wrong. Hugo? What the hell? Even if Chipotle had a soda that size I wouldn’t be okay with it.

Source: “Supersized Again.” Time 6 August. 2007: 17

Cribs: Milwaukee Edition

Kate and I made a video of the apartment yesterday. I am trying to get it uploaded onto YouTube so I can easily post it here, but no such luck yet. I am going to get it on here very soon. I promise.

Fish Fry First

When you go out to eat on Friday in Wisconsin you go to a fish fry. Every local restaurant, bowling alleys, community centers, and maybe even gas stations has specials on fried cod. Fish and chips basically.

We had our first Wisconsin fish fry tonight. It wasn’t Kate’s first fish fry, but it was our first together since moving here a few weeks ago.

The whole fish fry phenomenon is hard to explain. I don’t know where the tradition comes from. I don’t know why it is fish. Why not steak? Ribs? Crab? Falafel?

I bet you if you stop at the first local restaurant you see in Milwaukee it will have a fish special on Friday night. Whether it will be good fish or bad fish is a tougher call.

Tonight, we went all in on Beer Belly’s Restaurant. It was a draw.

It is easy to make a mediocre fried Cod and French Fries. That is how I would describe Beer Belly’s Cod dinner. I ate it. It was decent. I won’t ever have the desire to have it again. There must be a perfect ratio of batter to fish. The batter must accent the fish, but not overwhelm it. The fish should be moist enough to not zap your mouth of all that greasy batter right away. The fish tonight was not good enough for the batter it was cooked in. That’s why Beer Belly’s came up short tonight.

The restaurant definitely felt like a local joint. So, if I was a local, I think Beer Belly’s would receive high marks, but I am not. The place was packed, loud, plastered with cheesy depictions and photographs of famous Packers and Brewers of the past and the present. Also worth mentioning, I felt out of place because I wasn’t in cutoff jean shorts and a camouflage trucker hat. I feel we got some stares just for that. You throw in the fact that I was a good six inches taller than anyone in the place and Kate is a babe and you get a lot of stares. Stares bring the atmosphere way down. Way down. I can’t blame Beer Belly’s for that. It takes some serious talent to make me feel unaware of my size in a public place. I hold those places that do near and dear to my heart. Maybe, just maybe, we will find a good fish fry in Milwaukee that will do exactly that.

It is 7:39pm in Colorado

I am into brevity right now. Let’s get to it.

I am still unemployed.

I have been offered a part-time assistant swim coach position at UW-Milwaukee. It sounds great. I would need another job though and that is why I haven’t taken the position…yet.

Kate works a lot. Tomorrow is her 12^th straight day of work. She gets this weekend off. We are excited. I am excited. I love her.

I still don’t know anyone in Milwaukee. I spend an extremely large amount of time alone.

I run and bike for exercise. That hasn’t changed much. It hasn’t been too hot lately.

I am used to loud trains. They don’t bother me. They might bother you when you come to visit.

Wisconsin drivers are annoying. Maybe it is just Milwaukee drivers?

Mullets seem a little more common out here. One day I saw three.

There is a full liquor store in every grocery store. It is so hick. I sort of love it.

My desktop picture is of Manhattan Beach and the Manhattan Beach Pier at Sunset. I was there. The picture brings back the breeze. Cold sand between my toes. Crashing of waves.

I have never had cable internet before. It is fast.

The Daily Show is on at 10 around here. No more staying up until midnight to wait for it.

Our study is a mess. Everything that doesn’t have a place and isn’t unpacked is behind me.

This is my 364^th posting on Six Hours on Sunday.

I won’t ever be able to see that pier into Lake Michigan and not think about the trip I had out here with my wife and two fine gentlemen. I see them leap from it. Sounds of that trip come to me when the apartment is dark and empty. They make me smile.

Our vacuum is a beast.

We haven’t found a church yet. The first one we tried was awful. I can’t be polite about it. I have never been to anything like it before. I think if there was ever a church that could scare someone away from Christianity and convince them followers of Jesus are crazy it might be that one. Sad to say.

Redbox hasn’t made it to Milwaukee. Chipotle has.

I keep a map of London on my desk. I look at it at least once a week.

Quote of the Day

Russell Brooks, an Australian who rode his bike up the climb of the Aubisque before parking it to watch the racers travel by, disagrees, saying he believes doping should be allowed.

“Why not just let them take it?,” he asked. “As long as it’s only harmful to themselves, it should be okay. They’re only entertaining the public anyway.” And it is understandable, he said, given that teams require sponsorships to survive, and sponsors like to see their team gain victories.

“It’s the same thing at the club level back in Australia,” Brooks said. “Our club likes to get results so we can get a sponsorship for next year.” - The New York Times, July 25, 2007, By Edward Wyatt

What a fool.

Trip to Madison

I offered to drive with Kate today to Madison. She had to take a licensing exam and when you need that done in Wisconsin you have to come to the capitol. We easily found the licensing building. I couldn’t stay with Kate so I was going to find a place to stop just up the road. So much for that idea. Madison is under construction and driving here sucks. I just drove around the city trying to find any commercial district for the last 45 minutes. I feel like I had to leave the city to find any kind of store. So the impression Madison is leaving me with right now isn’t good.

The university is huge. I would hate to go here for school. The student body is something like 40,000. Someone I used to know from Fort Collins went here to play football. He did so because he was good, but also because this is where his older brother went to play football. The roads suck in Madison, just like everywhere else in this state. Really, there are no newly paved roads out here.

With my luck lately I was surprised that Kate didn’t call me the minute I got a drink and sat down to this computer. I might be here for two more hours. I might be here for two more minutes.

I am ending this now. I am going to write something else or read more of The Historian.

A Walk in the Woods

After Kate went in to work I took a drive to one of the parks nearby. I drove to Grant Park and pulled off the road to hop on this trail that runs parallel to Lake Michigan. The forest and its ceiling remind me of being in the woods near Princeton. I haven't seen a forest like this since I left New Jersey, maybe a bit in England but it wasn't this green in winter. I walked around for a bit snapping a few pictures and meandering my way down to the water a few times. Maybe by uploading some photos I can give you an image of what life in Milwaukee looks like. An apartment walk through, courtesy of YouTube, should be up in the next week. Okay. Back to the forest...

Some sun sneaks through the canopy.

There are paths leading to cliffs and beaches all along the walk.

It is hard for me to believe that is a lake. It could be the Pacific minus salt and big waves.

*Thanks to Bill Bryson. I borrowed the title of a book of his for this post. It is a great one.

Wedding Day

When I look at pictures of the wedding day I feel like it was years ago or a big dream I had. Kate feels the same way. It was surreal. For four years we knew we were going to marry each other. Our eleven-month engagement was full of work, school, and crazy wedding planning especially in the last couple of months. Before long the week was upon us and Kate and I were struggling to slow things down and relax. I really started to worry that I would get caught up in the stress with Kate and then come out of it only to find that what was supposed to be the “best day of our lives”, according to everyone else, had passed us by while we were at the Marriott choosing the napkin color and fold.

Luckily, that didn’t happen. Thursday, Friday, and Saturday were three amazing days—the best of my life. I was humbled again and again by this amazing group of friends that treat me so well. I was humbled by seeing so many people come together to celebrate the union of Kate and I. I was humbled by toasts. I was humbled by amazing parents on both sides of the aisle that I owe so much to. Lastly, I was brought to my knees before God when Kate rounded that corner in the atrium of the church so I could see her. From that point until Tim handed me the arm of his firstborn were the most humbling moments of my life. I was overcome with emotion and, as many of you could see, pretty much cried during the whole ceremony.

I felt out of place at times because during the week of your wedding all eyes are on you. And, well, all eyes were on us. It felt weird, but I was constantly reminding myself that they aren’t staring at me because I am 6’9” or because my fly is down, rather they stare because that was our day, our week, and a leap of love and faith that you just don’t want to miss. So you stare, hoping you can read the person’s feelings or record the moment with a smile, an image, or sound bite.

The attention, no matter how unusual, could not take my eyes off Kate for more than a few seconds that day. She was beautiful before, but I was taken aback by how stunning she looked that day. It was like seeing her for the very first time. He makes all things new. I felt that on the wedding day. I still do. That is a part of love at its best.

The Amtrak

Here is a video I took--all by myself!--of the Amtrak coming by the apartment. This is the 11:05 train, meaning it comes by our place every weekday at that time, bound for Chicago. In the video it sounds like I say, "It is about to get wowed." I said loud. I don't know why it sounds like I am five years old. Enjoy.

To Rachel

I have definitely fallen behind with the birthday blogs. Accept this as my official apology and a weak promise to do a birthday blog for two fine gentlemen sometime in the near future.

Today is Rachel's birthday. This captivating image of her was taken the morning her steed (Travis) was leaving for Milwaukee with the moving crew.

I told Travis a few weeks ago that I have been surprised at the amount of growth our friendship has seen in the last year and a half. He is an amazing dude, but this isn't about him today. This is about Travis' honey bunches, Rachel.

Rachel might be the most consistent reader of this blog. I discovered that before I even could remember her last name. Sorry, Rachel. Apparently she likes what I say on here. That is both cool and shocking. Yeah, someone likes this blog. Wow, someone likes this blog. I don't know the Rachel of the past. I know the Rachel of the present, the Rachel that went off to college on a golf scholarship, tore it up out there, won a conference title, got everything in her house stolen from her, started a blog herself, and has tried to follow God with every step.

I am excited to know the Rachel of the future. Hear, hear!

Today in Wisconsin

A 500-pound man goes tubing for the first time.

He ends up needing help.

Boats and a helicopter aren't enough to pull the man out of the river. The rescue workers must tie three canoes together in order to save the man.

Oh Yeah!

A Borat wannabe makes an appearance at the Tour de France.

Blog the Wedding

Some of you have been requesting a blog about the wedding, the honeymoon, and being married. I think I have something in me about all that, but whatever it is, it is not going to be this blog that encapsulates the joy and excitement I had during the week of the wedding and all the fun Kate and I are having now as a newly married couple.

That's it. I wanted to let you know that I have been thinking about it. It is just not at the blogging phase. Maybe it will be tomorrow.

The Untouchables

I have actually had some time to read this week, not much time, but enough to get caught up through a couple of back issues of Time. Rupert Murdoch recently made the July 9 cover. The article was an eye-opener for me. I knew he was a media mogul but I didn’t know that he alone owns 100 newspapers. Anyway, we all know who the guy is.

At one point in the interview he said, “My worry about the New York Times is that it’s got the only position as a national élitist general-interest paper. So the network news picks up its cues from the Times. And local papers do too. It has a huge influence. And we’d love to challenge it.”

I don’t think Murdoch would be saying this if he owned the New York Times, but forget that for now.

What he says about the NY Times accurately sums up some of my feelings toward the paper. It is the only high profile paper out there. But what about the USA Today? What about it? Every article in the paper comes with a color diagram just in case you don’t make it through the 500-word article. It doesn’t contend with the Times. The Times is alone in its dominance of mainstream dailies.

And the Times does have this air about it. Sure, they have writing superpowers, but ones that are treated as untouchable by many of the big networks. You can’t disagree with the Times and remain respected in that many circles. If you make a habit of picking apart the Times’ reporting you dig yourself a hole or you join Fox News.

The name of this paper, The New York Times, carries with it infallibility and greatness. You can’t deny it has acquired that respect from having world class writing and reporting, but I feel like the Times is just getting by on its name. It would be nice to see a challenger to their monopoly.

The Move

The move to Milwaukee started months ago as Kate brought van load after van load of stuff to the Longmont house and as I packed my stuff away in hand-me-down boxes from my grandparents. It ended when Kate and I put Chris and Travis on a plane destined for the west. The in between was full of sacrifice, laughter, and hard work that made the goodbye at the airport hard and the apartment so quiet when we got back. So this is a little bit of the in between, but not all, that belongs to the four of us that shared those four days in and out of the three vehicle train that drove through five states and covered 1100 miles.

Day 1: When renting a U-Haul don’t expect to get the size of truck you want. We reserved a 17-footer. We got a 26-footer. Initially I was so freaked out about maneuvering the beast that I tried to get anything smaller and thought of canceling the reservation. I quickly realized that it would take maybe up to a week for a smaller truck to come our way. I had to drive that ugly, rotten behemoth to Milwaukee…all by myself. As I drove to Allen Drive the truck calmed my nerves. It was slow, jerked when I pressed on the brakes, and smelled of U-Haul, but it moved, and there was a lot of space for our stuff.

Chris, Travis, Kyle, and Rachel were all a huge help later that day when we started loading the truck. We stacked the truck waist high from end to end so things didn’t slip too much. Chris proved he was an excellent packer. No pun intended. Okay…pun intended. The hetero and homosexual punning was perhaps at an all time high for the days to follow.

The 26, the Maxima, and the Regal rolled out of Longmont shortly after 7am on July 3. Our first stop was Ogallala, Nebraska. The truck took $175 worth of gas there. She was getting 8-7 miles a gallon, but cruised really well at 70 mph. We really didn’t know how far the truck was going to allow us to get that day. I was hoping for Cedar Rapids at least, but just outside of Lincoln we realized that we were making much better time than that. We decided to shoot for Des Moines.

It should be said that I was the only driver who had to drive the entire way. We didn’t pay for an extra driver on the U-Haul. So I owned all the miles between here and Allen Drive. However, the person who wasn’t driving at the time always rode with me. I was spoiled by company, so I really had it sort of easy. Chris brought his iPod and FM transmitter, which didn't leave the U-Haul once. He was kind enough to introduce me to Immortal Technique, a Peruvian-born NYC rapper, who has a lot of educating to do through arrogant and angry words. I enjoyed perusing through his lyrics and the rest of Mr. Nicoletti’s fine music collection. There was one album missing from his library though. Luckily, the self-titled Good Charlotte album was in the Maxima, still written onto the Seattle Doulos copy that saw at least 50 spins on that trip. Chris rocked out to that throwback piece of noise a lot.

Des Moines was a great place to stop. Milwaukee was within 400 miles, so we got the big chunk of driving out of the way. Now we just had to find a place to stay. We pulled into a Travelodge and a Baymont. We first went into the sketchy looking Travelodge and got a room quote. We then walked around the corner to the Baymont to get a quote there. The Baymont looked much nicer and wasn’t that much more. We decided to book there. I left the lobby with Travis to walk back to the cars. When we rounded the corner I could see the back of the Regal and Maxima fifty yards ahead of me. Immediately, I was drawn to the Regal. Its reverse lights were on. Holy shit, I thought. Someone is in the Regal. Our pace quickened and the Regal backed out. My heart was really racing at this point. I was so shocked. How could this happen? I even got more scared when I saw the driver was hiding underneath a shirt. The Regal started coming toward us. Travis moved to the side. I didn’t move. I positioned myself right in front of the Regal and decided I would move at the last second possible. This person was not going to get away. The Regal came very close and then stopped. By that point Travis was at the driver’s side window. The driver took the shirt off and I saw Chris Nicoletti behind the wheel. I was drastically relieved, cursed out loud, and congratulated Chris on completely punking me. Chris had sprinted to the cars by way of another route to beat us there. I later found out that Travis’ plan was to ask for directions and then rock the poor bastard behind the wheel with an Irish fist. My plan: block car with body and probably get badly hurt as I fail to move out of the way at the last second. There had to be something there to slow the driver down and I was fine with it being me. That dude behind the wheel was not going to get away with Kate’s car.

I was completely convinced that the Regal was being stolen right in front of my eyes. My heart didn’t stop racing for a while and it was such a rush of emotion that thinking of it even now gets me going.

Day 2: We rolled out around 7:30 on this day. We drove through the rest of Iowa before stopping on the banks of the Mississippi for gas and snacks. After crossing the river we were in Illinois and we were only one state away from our final destination. It was an ideal time to listen to Illinoise. Thank you, Sufjan.

There was only one more memorable stop between the river and our new home, and it was the stop we had to make for Travis before he pooped in my car. While he was taking care of business Chris and I bought Gatorades and a box of Hostess chocolate wax donuts for the home stretch. They were delectable and they gave Chris some gas that festered in the cab of the U-Haul for the next hundred miles. No regrets.

Upon arrival we found our apartment’s A/C to be out of commission. We had no choice but to deal with it being hot and humid outside and inside. It was 87 to 89 degrees in the apartment and hotter outside. The U-Haul truck was parked a hundred yards away from the front door and we didn’t have a dolly. There were many back and forth trips. Kate stayed in the apartment and started unpacking things as we brought them in. She was soon overcome by the huge loads we were bringing in. Boxes started lining the walls of every room.

I was sweating profusely. Chris and I did a few chest bumps/slides that left us feeling, well, queer. We posed for a Mick sandwich picture too. When we got down to the end of the truck we were left with the two couches, the two biggest and heaviest pieces to move. By that point we had moved very heavy loads of boxes, dressers, tables, and desks. We were in desperate need of a break before we took on the big couch, a.k.a. Dirty Girl. A neighbor who had been on his porch almost the whole time we were moving stuff offered us some beers. We gladly obliged and I received the delivery of three ice cold Miller Lites. I took them to the nearly empty truck and we sat in there with our beers that were brewed in Milwaukee. Miller Lite is not typically a favorite of mine, but you can ask Travis and Chris because they will agree, that was one of the best beers we have ever had.

After the rest we took Dirty Girl those hundred yards, through the front door, and up the stairs. Mission accomplished. We only had to move things into place and unpack now. The next two days were intermittently filled with the aforementioned tasks, but we also had a lot of fun. We went out to dinner at the Rock Bottom Brewery. We went to a park by Lake Michigan. Travis and Chris leaped into the lake by Oak Creek. We got the A/C working. We shared stories, food, and a toilet. All four of us went bed shopping. Chris and Travis still haven’t narrowed their mattress down, but we have one. It arrived two days ago.

Kate cried when we said goodbye at the Milwaukee airport which, by the way, takes five minutes to get to. I didn’t cry, but it was an emotional goodbye. The move remains unforgettable and the two men we said goodbye to, made it that way. They were a huge help. Who knows? We may call upon you again. I hope you call upon us.

Connected

We got hooked up to the World Wide Web tonight.

I have a big update brewing in the depths, but not of my GI tract, but for now here is information on how to view pictures from the wedding. Go here. Click on “Online Ordering”. Enter “Perica” as the event code and you are in. The pictures are compressed so they won’t look awesome, but if you view them in a slideshow I think they look better.

Last time I checked there were 300 pictures uploaded so far. There should be more now.

Pictures of the honeymoon, the move, and the apartment are coming up soon.