Relax. Don't worry. Have a homebrew.

Junes hit 21 this past Fourth of July, in dog years, and developed a taste for hops, choice yeast, and malted barley shortly thereafter. He and Jeff (Dawn's dog) clean up the spilt mash after bottling.

Dawn's mastering the fine art of homebrewing, and we've cranked out a good 30 gallons of it since november. We can't ship it, so y'all have to come by for a few. We're saving some for ya.

Late post of Farfar from November. Very late.

and harper's ferry

Snow, we hardly knew you . . .

Yes, Tom. I'm very sore from seven months on a snowboard. Spring is almost here, which promises even less posts from me . . . as biking and backpacking season is nigh. More posts to come in the fall.

Plus, I can't find my USB cable to download pics from my camera.

Sorry for the lack of posts . . . been boarding.

Mark and Jodi

Kidding . . .

"Cowboy up." 7.7.07

More from the roof . . .

July . . .

"July, July. We both wake up so dry,
that no tears can leave us." - Karen Peris

Mt. Evans . . . .

I guess the road to the top of Mt. Evans (> 14K ft.) is the highest paved road in the country, and maybe the world? I'll have to do some homework and get my facts straight.

Anyway - there was still plenty of ice on the lake near the top. It was interesting to see the summer bugs frozen in it.

Happy and unhappy fourth . . .

I went down to Coors field for a Rockies game on the fourth - it seemed to last forever as they clobbered the Mets 15 to 3. After the game they let all of the folks in the cheap seats down onto the field to watch the fireworks. We weren't among them. Next year.

I've never seen so many folks turn cart-wheels. Something about getting on the soft grass, I guess.

The fireworks were some of the best I've ever seen.

Junes hates 'em. He greeted me at the door with his tail between his legs when I got home, then disappeared into the bathtub. That night he went to sleep in the closet, with his head ducked behind a full-length mirror.

A few things about my friends . . . Kev.

Kev used to have the shittiest luck of anyone I've ever known. His car caught fire on the way back from VA Beach, and once the flames were extinguished he was left standing with an unlit cigarette dangling from his mouth. No one had a light.

I believe his camera and some photo albums were stolen from the back of his charred Escort that night after he had it towed 101 miles to behind his apartment in Richmond, VA.

He's an incredible photographer. Shit luck.

Kev once pissed off the garage roof of the home I grew up in. I had already snuck back in through the window. Kev first peed onto a metal trashcan lid as I whispered, frantically, through the cracked window, "SHUT UP, man . . . you're gonna wake up my parents!" Our basset hound, Jessie, came to the garage's edge to see what was up, and Kev inevitably pissed on her too.

I was laughing aloud to myself yesterday thinking of something that Kev used to do that drove me nuts and embarassed me a bit. When buying something, after the clerk would ring it up and tell Kev the price, he would pause for a second, consider carefully, then exclaim something to the extent of, "Ok! I'll take it. It's a deal."

I texted him about this today, and he replied that he had just done it again this AM. It's a crack up.

Kev's ex-wife makes his brother vomit. She makes us all vomit. Kev's a trooper.

Kev has the most bizarre dreams of anyone i've ever known. I'm pretty sure he told me once of how his entire dream was in reverse.

Kev's a great guy, and I can't think of anyone who knows him that would disagree.

A few more recent pics from Carbondale, CO.

Some shots from hiking Sopris . . .

We didn't quite make it to the summit, but I think we got pretty close. The path was under a good deal of snow near the top, and my trail-running shoes weren't cutting it.

I'll be honest . . . my fear of heights as I attempted hiking along a snowy cliff edge wasn't quite cutting it either. That was the ultimate turning-around point.

Self portrait at 31 . . .