Life Continues

I realize that most of my posts are action packed; in fact, even if my life isn't that action packed, I try to make my posts sound like a lot of really cool stuff is going on to keep my readers hungry for more action that has been packed tightly, and with care, into an action package. So, here goes me trying to conjure up some action to pack...and I promise I will stop saying both "action" and "pack".

I had an eventful weekend. We'll start with Saturday night (which is really your Friday remember...) After a long week of work, I decided that I had had my fill of child whine (yeah, sick nasty pun, I know) and needed to find relief in some of the hard stuff along with my co-workers. So we hopped on our bikes (because cars don't exist here), and headed out to the Vet's Hall to hear a local band play for a while. The front part of the bar is inside, but the majority of the bar is open-aired (like most things here, even the church lacks walls). We ordered our beers of choice and moved out back to hear the band play. You cannot even begin to imagine the look of pure ecstasy that consumed my face when I stepped out of the bar and onto the grungy and beer stained concrete out back and saw a...GIANT INFLATABLE MOONWALK CASTLE!!!! You know, the things that fill up with air and little kids go inside them and jump around for a while. Well, someone on island thought that it would be a great idea to get one of those and pump it full of air and put it out back of the Vet's Hall where some of the big kids go to play...I want to shake his hand. Naturally I took advantage of its presence. I dragged my co-workers into it and we jumped around to the sweet sounds of a cover band. See if you can guess how long it takes seven adults jumping inside a GIANT INFLATABLE MOONWALK CASTLE!!!! to deflate a GIANT INFLATABLE MOONWALK CASTLE!!!!, thereby making it a giant FLAT inflatable moonwalk castle :( Oh well, such is life. After that happened, the band started to suck so we peddled our little bikes (in cool S patterns) over to a place that has pool tables. Anyways, to make a long story short, I play a friendly game of pool with a guy that I know here as my co-workers watch. I win, he gets mad brags about having to B.A.'s, then wants to fight. I talk my way out of it because I am a masterful rhetorician fueled with the possibility of getting creamed. Then he starts to cry and asks me for pool advice. Bazaar, I know. After that blew over I decided it was a good time to call it a night.

Sunday (your Saturday) I get up and go out on a ski boat all day. We took out a wake board and I actually got up on it, something I had not been able to do back state-side. It was fun, but now my back hurts. Played it cool that night.

Monday (your Sunday, can ya dig it?) I wake up and go deep sea fishing with two middle-aged dudes and two co-workers: Katie and Whitney. I was really pumped to do this because I love to fish, and with the exception of an attempt to catch a Muskie once or twice, I have never really fished for big game. The fish we were going after are really big game though. We're talking hundreds of pounds. Most of the stuff we were looking for belongs to either the tuna or the grouper family. Thing of them as the Hatfields and the McCoys of the deep. I guess they don't really hate each other that much, but it's fun to pretend that they might...We trolled around the Pacific Ocean with our four lines in the water (two rods, two hand lines), but we caught nothing. We didn't even get a strike on a line. We got skunked. We actually defined getting skunked. But it's ok, the other boat that was out didn't get anything either. So really our trip wasn't so much a deep sea fishing trip, but an opportunity play a sweet game I like to call "Who's Puking First Because We Are in a Twenty-three Foot Boat and the Waves Are Pitching Like Crazy". I was never any good at suspense, so I'll just get right down to it. Katie won. She actually won twice, but she was able to get the chunks overboard both times. I guess I lost because I was able to keep my lunch in a dormant and internal state; but for some reason, I'm not upset about losing. We were hoping that the vomit, so generously provided by Katie Kuta (look her up on facebook myspace and leave her comments of mockery), would work as a second baiting technique, kind of like chumming for sharks, but more bile. It didn't. I got back that night and found out that my dog died.

On a positive note, I would like to thank all of my readers for positive comments on the blog and friendly emails to let me know you are tracking my movement around the globe like a UPS package. Keep sending me stuff to read. I love hearing from you all. Mom, try to smile, Sophie was a great little dog. I have been pretty down about the whole thing, but I try to think about things about her that make me smile: her fat little body barely supported on her stubby little legs, her tongue that couldn't quite fit completely in her closed mouth, her inability to wag her tail but instead she had to wag her entire back half, the way she would laugh as we walked in the back door, and the way she would tear across the front yard to greet me as I step out of my car, only to grovel at my feet, whimper, and pee as I pet her. I miss her a lot.