He exists as certainly as anger and selfishness and self centeredness exist, and you know that they abound and make your life miserable.

Alas!  How joyful would the workplace be if there were no Juan.

I soon find out.

My “Buddy” announced his retirement effective Jan. 1.

He might be missed, but probably not too much.

We have had our battles over the years but in fairness…I have found him to be an intelligent and at times funny coworker, who has helped me come to grips with my intolerances.

As a coworker he sucked…

as a person….he doesn’t suck as much.

In honor of his retirement and in keeping with the season, I felt the need to reopen this Blog for at least one more time.

Merry Christmas, my friends!!

T’was the day before Christmas, and all through the store

was the noise of folks toiling, and a heavy, loud snore!

All were hard working, dirty as hell

And then…there was Juan, awaiting the old dinner bell.

The guys (and a gal) were slogging away

Knowing it’s Friday, tomorrow we play.

Christmas bonuses banked, shopping lists done

But Old Fat Bottom’s still snoring and ruining the fun.

He jolted awake…he had errands to do

An hour for lunch soon turned to two.

Three hours had passed and still he was gone.

A typical lunch for my buddy Juan.

Toward the end of the day, we’re all ready to dash

When out in the parking lot we heard a loud crash.

We jumped over desks and slid ‘cross the floor

We ran to the windows, threw open the door.

The glare on the pavement, made us all squint

At the ‘62 Plymouth that was all one big dent.

To its rusty front bumper, 6 burros were hitched.

The driver tumbled out, gave his belly an itch.

We stood there dumfounded. Befuddled each one.

We knew in a moment…it had to be Santa Juan!

Slower than molasses and dumb as a post,

He called out to his burros, while munching on toast.

“Now ‘Que Pasa’, now ‘Chuco’, ‘Din’t Do It’, ‘Ju Know’!

On ‘Is Hiss Fault’. On ‘Dun Know’… y todos mis burros!

To the curb, to the street!”

Then they tripped and stumbled over their own little feet.

He rolled himself over with a grunt and a groan.

Cursing in Spanish as the burros just moaned.

He was dressed in serape, from neck to his butt.

Immaculately clean, ‘cept for the stain on his gut.

His eyes were all glassy, no dimples had he

With a huge honking nose and cheeks slathered in grease!

His big old mouth drawn up in a frown,

And the beard on his chin was mottled and brown.

He was chubby and fat, an old miserable jerk,

And I cringed when I saw him, especially at work.

A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,

Soon gave me to know I had something to dread!

He spoke not a word as tried to dodge work,

And soon he had hidden, oh what a jerk.

And sticking his middle finger high in the air,

Said “I’m way too busy!  I doan care!”.

He jumped in his Plymouth, that old hunk of junk,

And away they all clattered…ka-wobble…ka-clunk.

But I heard him exclaim, as he crept out of sight…

“Time to retire!  Ju heard me. Dat’s right!”

Thanks to Frank Church of the New York Sun & Clement C. Moore for allowing me to play with your words. I know they’re probably cringing in Heaven but I’ll make it up to ‘em when I get there.

And a Special Thanks to Juan for keeping things interesting for the last 10 years….

Vaya con Dios, mi amigo!

I had been too tired at the time to offer any reflections on the day other than the points above. A year later, I may be ready….

This is my 3rd redo of this blog….I kept getting philosophical & deep and stuff and decided “what the heck is this”? I assure you there was plenty of “deep philosophy” running through my mind all thru the climb and the days following. Once the toenails grew back and the soreness faded the reality and fun of that day crept into my thinking.

I was fully prepared to fail that day. Truth…I could have turned and walked away at any moment during that hike. I quit the Boy Scouts, 2 jobs and smoking, but that’s about all the quit I’ve got in me. I have an aversion to the word “quit”….damn it.

My life hasn’t changed because of that day. But I think I have. First time in my life I know I can accomplish anything I put my mind to. Except sky diving…I can’t do that. Maybe eating snails….

Would I do it again? No. That day I accomplished all that I had hoped for and except for Rick’s broken ankle, all went off perfectly. It’s always stuck in the back of mind that while we were trudging to the top, someone had actually lost his life in a fall from the Diamond, just yards from us. I think we were meant to do Longs that day…I’m not sure there should be another climb for me. Reference the toenail and soreness comment from a few paragraphs back….

That’s all I’ve got, except to say that for the rest of my life, August 27, 2010 will always be the day I met myself and with the help of 20 something friends accomplished my “unthinkable pursuit”.

I offer again the quote by Teddy Roosevelt that John had sent me in the days before our attempt….

“It’s not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles or where the doer of deeds could have done better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs and comes short again and again; who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions, and spends himself in a worthy cause who at best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement; and who at worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly; so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who know neither victory nor defeat.“

Bill

Here’s a high level summary of the overall blog health:

The Blog-Health-o-Meter™ reads Wow.

Crunchy numbers

A Boeing 747-400 passenger jet can hold 416 passengers. This blog was viewed about 1,700 times in 2010. That’s about 4 full 747s.

In 2010, there were 21 new posts, growing the total archive of this blog to 28 posts. There were 48 pictures uploaded, taking up a total of 23mb. That’s about 4 pictures per month.

The busiest day of the year was September 1st with 57 views. The most popular post that day was 14,255 Revisited.

Where did they come from?

The top referring sites in 2010 were facebook.com, rmnpforums.com, powershouseblog.blogspot.com, davidmichaelportraits.com, and sandypowersphotography.blogspot.com.

Some visitors came searching, mostly for cute, cute pictures, cute pics, cute puppies, and cute puppy.

Attractions in 2010

These are the posts and pages that got the most views in 2010.

14,255 Revisited September 2010
7 comments

I am NOT OCD!! May 2010
11 comments

About Poppy October 2008

Back to the real world. September 2010
4 comments

The Pioneer Dude: One Semi Sweet Life….fish tacos! April 2010
3 comments

“Grandpa….tell me about Christmas and Santa Claus!”
The old cowboy stopped rocking and looked down at his little grandson.
“Santy Claus? Christmas?”

“Yessir. We do Christmas cuz of him, don’t we?”

“Little feller….climb up here on my knee and I’ll tell ya all about Christmas.

Now, back in days ago, this here Augustus feller, he was the King of Rome, said he wanted a head count on ever body that was in his herd.
So, this young feller Joe and his wife Mary (she’s a totin’ a little ‘un inside her at the time) packed up and headed out for Galilee…I think that’s out in West Texas somewhere’s, where his great granddaddy Ol’ King David come from, to get counted. Now you needs to know that young Mary weren’t just carryin’ a baby…she’s a carryin’ God’s baby. It was sumpin’ special ol’ God was gonna do fer us folks here on earth. He was gonna come on down and live here fer a bit so’s He & us could get to know each other a tad bit better. That’s the little secret old Joe & Mary had betwixt ‘em.

Well, traveling on an old mule in the dead of winter with a momma-to-be is a slow thing and by the time they got to that dang Galilee place there weren’t no room ‘tall. No sir…nowheres! Well Ol’  Joe finally did beg a stall down to the livery to hole up for a bit an whiles they was awaitin’… ol’ Mary done had that baby. Right there in that barn!  Yessir! Jus like a mare a birthin’ a foal! Well, they dint have no fancy baby clothes like they do nowadays so they just wrapped him up in some old burlap bags and laid him down in a feed trough. Kind of a strange place for God to have his kid born, but there ya go…He does things like that now and agin.
Now it was dark o’clock by then and just outside town, up in the hills, was some cowboys keepin’ an eye on a herd a cattle they was driving down to the stock yards in San Antone. All a sudden the whole dang sky lit up bright as day and this feller just came out’n nowhere and jus’ stood in front of ‘em. He was all aglowin’ and had these big ol’ wings…kinda like a eagle and he said he was an angel! Imagine that! You heard of angels afore right? Not one a them sissy, baby girly looking ones…no sir!!! He’s as big as a horse! Scared the dickens outta them hard boys.
Now that fella just looked ‘em in the eye and told them ”Now you boys settle down. Ain’t nothing to be afeared of. I got some good news for ya’ll and ever body. Down in yonder town, a little baby was born who’s gonna save ya’ll from all the evil and bad stuff of this here world.
‘Cowboys….this is a sign to you from God: ya’ll gonna find a little one all wrapped in feed sacks and sleepin’ in a feed trough.’
And then all of a sudden was a whole sky full of them glowing fella’s and they was a singin’:
‘Glory to God in the highest,
and on earth peace amongst men who He’s mighty pleased with!’

And then, by golly, all them angels just was gone. **Snap** Like that! Them cowboys?? They was dumb founded. They just sat there like a cow poke’ll do, when finally the trail boss says t’others ‘I reckon we best head down and see what all the fuss them fellas was a talkin’ about is.’ So they saddled up and rode hard into the village. And by jingo they saw this big ol’ star a’shining on that stable and headed thatta way. They rode up to just outside and when they went in, sure enough there was Joe and Mary and that baby. And they was all slack jawed and cow eyed, cuz they knew this was sumpin’ special…sumpin’ a man only sees once in his life if’n he’s lucky.
After a bit they saddled up and strolled on back to camp, and told everybody they come across about what happened and what they saw. And everbody was amazed.

And that young ‘un is why we celebrate Christmas….the Baby Jesus…cuz He changed ever thing for the better.”

The boy looked up at Grandpa threw his arms around that old man’s neck and gave him a big old hug. He climbed off Grandpa’s lap then turned and asked… “So….when did Santa come along?”

Oh well….

Merry Christmas Everyone!!

Bp

*****SIGH*****

I have been humbled epicuriously.

Tonight I attempted a grilled BBQ Chicken Pizza.
I did my due diligence and scoured the net for the perfect recipe and found it on the Food Network site. The recipe seemed simple enough…and I followed it to the letter!

The problem was the dough. I cheated and bought Pillsbury’s pizza dough that comes in the little tube.

Easy enough…I thought.

I sliced the red onion and cherry tomatoes wafer thin, grated the mozzarella and smoked gouda, cooked 2 chicken breasts in garlic and olive oil and then cut them in to precise little cubes of deliciousness. All that remained was to prepare the dough.
I spread flour on the counter top and popped the can open as the coals heated in the pit.

Aaarrrrggghhhh!!!! I felt like the village idiot! How can such a simple process as spreading dough turn into something Rubik Cubian??? I started with a perfect rectangle and went through every geometric and animal shaped form known to man! I almost stopped with the horse, but finally settled on Ohio.

I tossed Ohio on the grill and after 5 minutes pulled it off and brought in to add the goodies. I spread a thin layer of Head Country BBQ sauce, spread the Gouda & Mozzarella like a heavy winters snow, threw on the onion and tomatoes and placed chicken on all the metropolitan areas. Back to the grill for another five minutes of cooking and back in for consumption.

Ohio tasted delicious!

We felt bad for devouring a Red State…but it was dinner.

Next week I’ll try again…I’m hoping for round.

But if not….maybe California.

Or possibly a unicorn.

*****SIGH*****

This is best read with a happy tune as background…something Jason Mraz-ish or “Somewhere Over the Rainbow-esque”. Possibly a heat lamp while sitting in a sand box could help set the mood also…

“An Idyllic get a way. Beautiful beaches, vibrant views, relaxing retreats. Port Aransas is the premier vacation destination for beach, sun and family fun! Wiggle your toes in the sand! Search for seashells, bird watch, shop coastal stores and dine in island style restaurants. Our tranquil, tropical community boasts miles of natural beaches, gentle gulf breezes and just-right weather making our island a perfect, peaceful get away. Get close to the water and away from the crowds.”…the Port Aransas Visitors Board.

The perfect spot for a day trip with the grandkids! We only live a torturous 2 1/2 hour drive (seriously…driving through tiny Texas bumps in the road like Poth, Pettus, and Tuleta with their 30 MPH speed traps and 5 traffic lights each is pure torture) from the Texas coast. Sandy & I have made the trip only 3 or 4 times in 37 years of marriage. We had Carson, Jackson & Reagan for the day and we were zoo’d out. What to do?? Where to go?? Carson had been to the Gulf earlier this summer with his parents, but Jackson hadn’t been since he was two and Rea-Rea had never been.  Sandy declared “Road Trip!”.

I was all a twitter with excitement.

Don’t get me wrong…I absolutely adore my GK’s and relish anytime we can spend with them. They’re a daily reminder of what love and joy of life should look like. I’m just not a coastal kinda guy. I’ll take the mountains,  a stroll along a river , a walk through downtown San Antonio, even a fork in the eye over going to the beach any day.  One man’s “gentle gulf breezes and just-right weather” is another man’s “sand blowing in your face, sun burned, sweating like a pig, dead fish smelling, sea weed wrapped around your feet” hell.

Why so cynical, Bill?

Three reasons….My Step-Dad. High school Spring Breaks. The U.S. Navy.

All I know is that the closer to an ocean I get the more anxiety filled I get. My step dad was “that guy” who sucked the fun out of everything that had the potential to be a great memory . As a kid we used to vacation in Port Aransas every summer.  He would drag us out of bed at 5 am, load us into his 10′ aluminum boat and head out into the bay, where we were instructed to sit perfectly still while we fished. You can see how well that  would work for a hyperactive, short attention spanned 10 year old. It would take about an hour for us to have him completely buggy. If he (there was no “we”. 5 minutes into it my brother and I had usually thrown our bait at the sea gulls) caught fish it was despite us and if he didn’t it was because of us. I don’t care much for fishing now either. Coincidence?? Sure…I’m certain of it. Spring breaks always resulted in third degree sunburns, jelly fish stings, digging sand out of my ears and embarrassing stories for months afterward. The Navy? See “My Step-Dad” above. By the way…Step-dad is the one who convinced me to join the Navy. I’m sure that’s coincidental, too.

Wow…talk about rambling…focus Bill. Focus!!!

Okay…back on track.

It was a fun day. The kids loved the beach! Sandy loved the beach! I loved the beach! We played in the surf, searched for seashells, bird watched, shopped coastal stores and dined in an island style restaurant…we even wiggled our toes in the sand. Just like the Visitors Board suggested!! We even went a step further and built a sand castle (they need to add that to their brochure). I thought the sand castle turned out pretty well considering the chief architects were two 4 year old boys and the engineer was a 2 year old girl.

They were upset when they discovered that the high tide would erase their efforts, so they proceeded to stomp it out of existence shortly after the project was completed. I found myself sitting, watching the kids play and being a little jealous. Don’t grow up too quick, guys. I arrived with an old cynics eye, but soon enough saw things as a little one again. I need to hold on to that.

The only thing we took exception with the Visitor’s Board on was the “beautiful beaches” part and in fairness the tropical storm earlier this week may have had something to do with that. The beach was heavily littered with sea weed, plastic bags and dead fish in various stages of being sea gull fodder. The beauty of being a kid is even that was part of their joyful experience. I mean, would you or I spend time 10 minutes inspecting a dead fish with a stick?

At the end of the day, we loaded up the car and head north for the 150 mile return trip. Five exhausted, sand blown, sunburned, dead fish smelling, sea weed wrapped, sand castle building, toe wiggling, bird watching, sea shell collecting day trippers who had just enjoyed a day to remember. We had made a memory…a good memory.

My step-dad would’ve hated it.

Pity…it was a fun day.

Bp

Clearing the desk of left over odds and ends…

I love that first morning back from the Rockies. Truthfully? I hate being back (I guess more accurately…I hate not still being there), but I love that totally exhausted, cool pillow & sheets sleeping in of the 1^st morning following a trip. Even the dog sleeps in. The cat doesn’t sleep in but I learned years ago that she gets put out at night…it’s just the price she pays for being a cat. We get a slow start, sipping coffee and catching up on emails and then it’s laundry, shopping and photo downloading.

It took 8 days for the vacation glow to wear off. That’s a record for me. Typically by lunchtime of my first day back to work, the glow manages to fade thanks to the oppressive heat & humidity and a sprinkling of Juan. 8 days…nice.

I was a little saddened that the local media didn’t call for interviews about our summit adventure. I envisioned headlines like “Local Couple Slays Giant”. Sandy pointed out that thousands do it annually. That pop you heard was my bubble being burst. Even my Grandkids were unimpressed….”What did you bring us?”. I cut them slack because they’re still young…

Tropical Storm Hermine blew through town the other day. It was kinda cool. Fortunately there wasn’t any serious damage or loss of life. If you haven’t had the pleasure of watching giant oaks bend to the ground and then spring back up, only to bend without breaking again, or a steady rain seep into your fireplace down the flue, or watching a metal roof fly by your window…well…you need to do it just once.

While in Rocky we didn’t see a single elk. Not a one. We saw a few marmots from afar and a handful of pika on the Longs hike, but that was about it. That was a first for us. Hope it’s a last for us.

While in Rocky, I accompanied Sandy & Dixie to Sprague for a nighttime photo shoot. They needed perspective. That’s my job. I have the most photographed butt in the Rockies. I’m proud of that.  They were painting with light. My job was to stand there, gazing at the peaks in the distance that I couldn’t see to gaze at because it was dark, while they flashed a light at my backside. The results of the experiment were nice, but I noticed that my once shapely tush has gone flat. The aging process is so unkind. Nolan Ryan loses his fastball, Carl Lewis his speed, Cindy Crawford her looks, Bill his derriere.

That clears the desk. The past week has been about getting back to the normal routine. Bummer…but that’s life.

Bp

Indulge me on this Longs Peak thing at least one more time.

I know that you, casual reader, probably grow weary of hearing about it, but like a new Poppa with a wallet full of baby pictures…you’re just gonna have to see ‘em for a while.

I returned to work Wednesday and everyone asked about the trip. The guys knew what I had hoped to accomplish, and they knew I had serious doubts about getting it done. The last few weeks they hid the doughnuts from me. They said they were being helpful….I’ll address that with them later.  Paybacks are hell.  As I “proud as a poppa” showed the pictures from the climb, one question kept being asked over & over. It’s that age old query…”Why on earth would you want to subject yourself to that kind of misery”? The “because it’s there” answer didn’t suffice…and it gave me pause to ponder. Why in the heck would we do that?

It’s impossible to hit this part of Colorado and not notice Longs Peak. It’s visible from most of the Front Range north of Denver. We’ve been to RMNP 15+ times and Longs shadowed our every moment. Our first few trips found us so out of our element, that it may as well have been Mt. Everest. We took photos of it framed by Rock Cut, the AVC or from above Bear Lake, but it was never within the realm of possibility as something we could ever do. As we spent more time there and hit longer, more difficult hikes, even as we managed to summit the easier mountains…CC&Y, Flat Top & Halletts, Ida, Deer, it never, ever dawned on us that Longs was attainable. It was a fear of conditioning, a fear of stamina, of mental toughness; of exposure…it was a fear of failure.

Three years ago, Longs began to taunt.

It had always been there. A rugged, unattainable mountain serving as a backdrop to this year’s  hike, but all of a sudden Longs had a voice. It challenged us by its mere presence. The intimidation was there. It was real. We admitted defeat, knowing full well that we would never stand atop her summit. Even as we hiked to Frozen Lake at Longs northern flank, so close you felt like you could reach out and touch her, she laughed and said  “Hey…only 4000 more feet. Do you have it in you?”

Our answer was a quiet “No”.

It remained a “no”  until last summer, when someone on RMNPForums proposed a group hike in order to help us get there. Asked if we were interested, I stupidly replied “Sure!” 20 of us made the hike.  The rest is history. As we finally hiked out of the Boulder Field, I turned for a final peek and muttered, “Done. Thanks for allowing us to visit.”…because on that mountain, you climb at her pleasure.

So the answer, for us, to the question is this:

We discovered this special world late in life. We love the mountains. The mountains for us have always been a place where we’re able to “Be still. And know He is God.” It has never been about bagging a peak or stretching our limits…it was always about seeing as much as we can see of the beauty of this place, about spending time with special friends, about standing in the presence of God. We had a challenge extended to us by the mountain…she called to us. Above every imaginable objection we could muster, she called to us.

It would have been rude not to answer.

We’re done.

Thanks for the call.

Bp

Photo by the ever lovely Lora Bierbaum!

It’s been almost 3 months since my last entry.

Titled “14,255”, I shared about our decision to hike (climb) Longs Peak with a group of friends and the need for this fat boy to get in condition. That was June 2, 2010.

Last Friday, August 27, 2010 we made it to the summit of Longs Peak.

It took us 18 hours, from the trailhead to the summit and back. It was a beast and the beast had us for lunch. I’ve spent the last day working on a trip report that I’ll post over on the Forums and link to from here, but I wanted to share via this Blog a few observations made throughout this process.

Training –

58 years old. Summer highs in SoTex average 100 degrees. The humidity stays around 80% on a good day. Let’s do the math:

100°(80%)*58 + 14259 = Wasn’t gonna happen² !!

The Plan -

As it became apparent that our lack of training & preparation made actually reaching the summit iffy at best, depression set in. We were climbing with 20 friends who were pulling for us to make it. Heck, the darn thing even was named with me in mind…Get Bill Up The Hill!  Who needs that pressure?? The thought of looking like a wimp in front of them was less than appealing. I began to toy with the idea of possibly missing our flight or getting lost on the way up or even shattering a leg in the Boulderfield as a way out. Too radical. Too painful. I had no other option but to give it a go.

The Surprise –

We made it.

All the way.

Up and down.

Without a doubt this was the most physically demanding, mentally challenging and emotionally draining thing I’ve ever attempted. I believe it was climbing partner Lori Smith who mentioned that she had heard climbing Longs was more painful than giving birth. I thanked God that I’m a man (please note the lower case “m” in “man”.  No further comments from you, dear reader, is required!).

The Heroes –

Everyone who even gave it a shot is a hero. There was a whole lot of stepping outside comfort zones that day. Michael (Smudge) posted a quote that kinda summed it upped for me…

”Most want to live vicariously through the confident, intrepid man, but nobody wants to saddle up and ride.” – John Sharp.

We rode.

Not really rode…that woulda been nice, but you get the idea.

The biggest “Heroes” for those that made it that day were Igloo Ed and Big Al. They guided 2 groups up to the peak. Al led us and hiked twice as far because he kept running ahead to check the route and then scurry back to help us through the hard spots. At the Narrows he actually teetered on the edge of the abyss to act as a buffer between Sandy & eternity. Crazy, crazy man. It was appreciated, but still…

The Community -

Could we have done it on our own? Maybe…maybe not. My money’s on the “maybe not”. We left the trailhead as a group of seven. We trudged 6 something miles to the Boulderfield  and joined up with the other group of day hikers and the group that had camped at the BF. If memory serves there were 19 that reached the summit from our group and 4 that for one reason or another held up at the Keyhole. The beauty of community is that everyone shared in the joy of the effort. The group that camped spent their evening filtering and bagging water for the day hikers. John greeted us with cookies and his huge grin. Both welcome sights. Mike & Stacey sent us through the Keyhole with a smile and a hug. Big Al & Ed led the way, motivated us and encouraged us to do things that we never would have attempted on our own. We picked each other up, cheered each other on, joked, shared food and drink, and pushed when a push was needed. Sandy & I had quit on our minds at least 5 or 6 times only to be kindly prodded on by Al. On the Homestretch only a few yards from reaching the summit, we  ran out of gas. As we peered up at the now unattainable goal we saw the members of Ed’s group cheering us on. The adrenaline rush got us to the top. The hugs and high fives and laughter healed the hurt and freshened the spirit!

Lessons learned – Since I’m still too tired to come up with a fresh perspective, allow me to borrow a quote that fellow summiteer (Not too tired to invent words, tho) Smilin’ John Swadley shared with us from Teddy Roosevelt:

“It’s not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles or where the doer of deeds could have done better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs and comes short again and again; who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions, and spends himself in a worthy cause who at best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement; and who at worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly; so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who know neither victory nor defeat.”

There.

That’s it.

Do it again?

Nope!

Okay…maybe once more.

Bp