Lord of the Manor

Just got back from a wedding down in Charleston, SC - we had an awesome time.  Charleston is one of those cities with a lot of history, considering it's been settled since the colonial times.

The wedding site was pretty incredible.  After riding our bus through the private, gated road, cutting around giant trees draped with Spanish moss, we arrived at a huge plantation-looking home.  Right outside this home is where the reception was held.  There was a nice fountain, tables set up, and the place backed up to a lake.

After seeing the small sign that read "Caution:  Alligators" I spent a large portion of time looking for one of those things.  Turns out one came by to check out the action, but he just sat there with his head sticking out of the water.  I'm starting to think that unless you are dangling a piece of raw meat in front of them, alligators are pretty boring.

But that's not what this is about.

Jensen and I ventured in to check out the house later in the evening and it was pristine.  The place must have been several hundred years old, and smelled like clean, seasoned wood.  As if it were meant to be, I rounded the corner of one room and discovered the library.  Even though I was enjoying a beer, which along with any type of clear liquor is strictly prohibited for this sort of thing, I had plenty of scotch in my system from earlier to deliver a good Lord of the Manor face:

I dare someone to try to top this.  The stars were aligned.  Look at the perfect, aged hardwoods.  The bookshelves covering the entire walls, even the books were aged to perfection.  Most are of concepts and tales that the feeble minded would never understand.  Aside from the background environment, the keys to delivering on the Lord of the Manor are a proper lean, preferably away from the camera or other simple folk who may be in the room, proper attire, and the kind of smile that says "I'm only smiling to appease the peasants who are asking me to smile."  If done well, even your friends and those closest to you will temporarily want to jaw you when seeing you like this.  Mine would at least.  I don't mean to toot my own horn but I'll rate it A, and if I had been holding a scotch or bourbon, I would've scored the A+ all day long.

But on a more serious note, I had a blast in Charleston and met some great people.  I have a lot of fun at these weddings, especially when the bride and groom seem like honest genuine people - I may not know them as well as Jensen does, but they certainly seem to fit the bill.

Brew Day

If you like craft brew, you might find this interesting.  If not, grab you a high life and hit the back button.

I've been doing a lot of brewing over the last 2 weeks or so and have about 7 gallons of beer sitting in the closet, waiting to be bottled.  I think I've finally been able to hone in a few recipes that I've been working on--an American pale ale and a newer one, an oatmeal brown ale for the fall.

Even though there's a lot that goes on behind the scenes with hitting exact temperatures, and chemical reactions and what not, I wanted to outline the process as a whole.  I find it really interesting, as do a bunch of other dorks in this world, but then again I find pretty much everything interesting.  If there's something out there that I don't know much about, I want to know how it works, why it works that way, and how I can possibly do it.

Anyway I'll leave out the small details and explanations that make me want to "talk like thisch when deschribing thingsch" and just give the overview.  I'm no pro by any means, but I can say with confidence that within the next few batches of beer, if not the ones sitting in the fermenters right now, I'll regularly be making some damn fine brews.

I find it relaxing to do.  I fly solo on this.  Besides, even if I wanted help, I wouldn't get much.  One source of potential help was laying out:

          The other was laying in:  









So you start with some crushed grains, or malted barley.  There are countless different kinds, and you can pick any combination to give your brew different flavors and consistencies.  It's kinda like cooking with food.

You'll also need some hops---these rabbit turd looking things below are hops in pellet form - condensed so they don't take up too much space.  There are tons of varieties of hops; some create more bitterness than others, some are citrusy, others are earthy, some taste kinda like a pine tree, others like grapefruit, I'm sure some are downright terrible...just haven't found those yet.


Then you've got the yeast.  Like hops and grains, there are many varieties - all produce different beers and different styles.  Some are pretty neutral, while others produce disgusting, spicy Belgian beers.  There are also wild yeasts that mother nature sends flying around outside--you can even collect those and brew with them.  I hear a lot of them make terrible beer, but once in a while someone gets something good by keeping an open cup by a window sill.  That would be pretty awesome.

Anyway the point is that you can literally create your perfect beer around what you like and the cool part is that if you do things as seen below, it's the exact same process that craft breweries use, just with different equipment...I'm sure they aren't using gatorade style coolers picked up at Home Depot and outfitted with ball valves and  braided hoses.  But maybe they are.  Doubtful.

First things first, I heat up water to a specific temperature depending on what kind of beer I'm making.  Generally anywhere from 152-155 is where I want it to end up.  Then I pour the water into this Home Depot cooler that I converted into what's called a mash tun and mix it with the crushed barley.  Once mixed, this is called the Mash.  The hot water converts starches from the grains into ferment-able sugars that the yeast will eventually eat.



Once all of these are converted, after about an hour usually, I drain the mash tun, and flush more hot water through the grains, called the sparge.  This washes out all of the excess sugars.






After that, I bring it what's now called the wort, to a boil.  It's at this stage that you put in the hops.  Hopping earlier on in the hour-long boil creates up-front bitterness to the beer, while hopping later in the boil gives more hop flavor.  I'm kind of a fan of both.  I loves me a good hoppy pale or IPA.







When that nonsense is all said and done, I cool the whole pot down in an ice bath until the temp of the wort drops down to around 75, put it into a fermenter, and pitch the yeast.  The yeast, over a period of the next week or two, eat the sugars, and spit out alcohol and CO2.  It sits here for a few weeks before getting bottled.  Three to 4 weeks after that, you better be thirsty.

You can pretty much adjust any of the variables above, so there is obviously a lot more you could read about.

Welp, that's that.

Wedding season has officially begun.  Jensen has like a hundred thousand friends, and they're all getting married at the same time.  Off to Charleston, SC this weekend.

Grey Suits and Storms

Haven't updated in a while because of work and leisure.  In July I spent a week on the Outer Banks.  The family was down there and I made sure to join them, given that I only get there once during the summer time each year.  Even though it's not my favorite time of the year to be there (mainly bc of crowds), I had nothing to complain about - warm water is something I never take for granted.

The town had been talking about it for years and finally pulled the trigger on a huge project to dredge and pump sand onto shore to build the beaches back up.  I talked to one of the workers who explained the process - they had to take over 2000 samples of sand from offshore to match the type found on the beach.  Then they dredge it, pull it onto a huge (looked to be 150+ ft) boat, get to about 200 yards offshore, and pump it to the beach through a huge rusted pipe.  It was pretty interesting to watch.  A maintenance guy from the realty company said people have been complaining that it ruined their vacation, but the last time I checked, there has to be a beach to enjoy the beach.

I'm not kidding when I tell you they've probably added 60-70 yards of beach, and we desperately needed it. I'm thinking it may have smoothed out the bottom a bit more, because the waves were pretty glassy all week.  When we got there on Saturday they were a good 5-6 ft and fairly clean.

Check it, a good dose of man fighting back at nature.

I always drive south when there is no surf in front of the house.  South of where we are, it's basically 30-40 minutes worth of wildlife sanctuaries and reserves, and not a lot of houses...the area immediately south of the Oregon Inlet is Pea Island.  Here you can be the only person on the beach.  I stopped at a few random paths through the dunes to scope things out.

I had to take a picture...it was just too damn inviting.  There's always this feeling of anticipation, just wondering what to expect when you get to the open beach.













In this case, not much--no people, just a few birds.  Awesome.

Some (or all) of these pictures may look the same to some poeple, but to me they are very different.  It's a snapshot of everything going on at that moment.  I could tell you what the air felt like, everything going on in my head at the time, what I did that day.


We also just got down to Carolina Beach for a few days with some friends- Bill, Brittany, and Jeremy.  Turns out that an hour or so before we started toward the beach Saturday, some girl got bit by a shark--nothing serious though.  Then we're about 5 miles south at Fort Fisher and as we're pulling up, a guy saw our boards and told us that the "grey suits" were out that day.  It's kind of an old fashioned term for sharks; "men in grey suits."  Anyway he had been out about 20 minutes before we got there and said he saw a 6-7 footer jump clear out of the water about 100 yards from him.

Everyone kind of looked around at one another, pondering whether or not to get in, but we all did.  The sharks are out every day and look how often something happens - pretty much never.  Besides, locals were speculating that it was a sand tiger who bit the girl, and the one that jumped near this guy was likely a spinner shark....they're garbage.  It would be one thing if a 10 foot bull shark ripped someone's head off, but a little nibble on the foot never hurt anybody too badly.

And allow me to let you in on a little secret:  when there are dolphins in the water, it doesn't mean there aren't sharks.  In fact, it's the opposite - there are likely more sharks.  Dolphins and sharks largely feed on the same things.  Sorry if I just ripped off your comfort blanket when you are swimming at the beach, but I calls 'em as I sees 'em.


The guy who pulled up his truck next to ours had a few extra boards, so the others with us got to ride as well.  It was like a good old fashioned surf camp.  He even gave me a leash he didn't need anymore. It's always great running into such friendly people.

Anyway, I'm not sure when I started this post or when it will be dated, but today is August 26, and Hurricane Irene is set to make landfall on....you guessed it....the Outer Banks.  This is a big storm, and big storms have historically shifted and created entire inlets there, not to mention the damage that affects people.  We'll see how it turns out, but something tells me mother nature is going to reclaim a good bit of that new beach in the picture above.

Fixing Dents with a Hairdryer and Aerosol Duster: Myth Busted

Before:

 The internet has many clips of guys fixing dents with these two simple household items.  They hold a hairdryer over the dent for about 2 minutes until it's really hot, then flip a can of keyboard duster upside down and spray it over the dent.  Since the metal is quickly heated and cooled, it expands and pops out the dent.  It's usually followed by a bunch of cheering.

I decided to give it a whirl considering I have nothing to lose.  The sube is riddled with dents, has about 100k on it, and I love it so I plan on driving it til it dies.  I had to grab something at Target so picked up a can of this stuff as I walked by.  You need to give your birthday to buy a can; apparently kids have taken a liking to the it too.

We tried it on two major dents.  Mattafack, these were the first two that my car took after getting it.  I had my jeep down at school for 2 years and it never got a scratch.  I had the sube at school for two months and some girl side swiped it in the parking lot and it got nailed by a football.  The football one I mostly pulled out with a plunger right afterward.  The rest of the tiny dents admittedly came from parking under the huge walnut tree at J-town senior year...the one I always make fun of the Pat monster for.

Want to see the pic of the dent after?  Just look back up at the first picture.  Let me know if you try it and it works for you, but I'd save all of those fresh cans of keyboard duster for 15 year-olds who can't find any beer.

Yep It's Summer

By far, some of the best things about this time of the year are the storms.  Here in the Cackalack we go through cycles where it'll storm nearly every day.  Since moving into my place, it's been standard procedure that when the sky darkens during the day or you hear a rumble in the distance, it's time to head out to the carport and set up a chair, or two or three depending on who's en casa at the time.

This year on the evening of July 4th, nature decided that she'd take over the fireworks for the evening, and delivered a storm that sent little kids screaming and dogs barking.

Even the Jack dog enjoys watching a good storm roll in.  I have to keep an eye on him though; if one of the neighbors pulls into their driveway, Jack's got no qualms about running over to their house in the pouring rain to say hello.

Now this isn't complex, but here are some pointers:  It's important to get out there before the thing hits - that way you get to see and feel the changes as the storm approaches.  Sort of like a song building up I guess.  Then if you are lucky, it gets violent as it passes right overhead.  All you need is a chair, a beer if you'd like one, a dog if you've got one.  If you want to go total redneck you can go suns out guns out and lose the shirt, or in this case rains out veins out.  Doesn't really matter how you do it.  You could even sit outside in the open and get drenched.  Just know that if your neighbors see you doing this, they'll be sure to triple check that their doors are locked before going to bed every night.


Anyway check out the storms, and you'll thank me once it becomes routine.  And don't be dicking around on your smartphone or anything; just sit back and accept the free therapy.

By the way the surfboards off to the right should be getting some heavy use in a week and a half - headed to the outer banks for an entire week!  Even the big dog is excited- he's been doing balance training (found this old picture on my camera):











If it's anything like last year, I'll be seeing this again as I head up the walkway to the beach:


I snapped this about a year ago.  You can see the waves rolling in above the grasses, a real rarity during the summertime in Nags Head.  Last year it was consistent all week long.  The only downer was that the water temp was 58-62 because the winds were blowing onshore (chief).  I remember getting my first look at the water and thinking "why are all these idiots wearing wetsuits, it's July!"  I got in and my question was quickly answered.

Might not be oyster season, but it's everything else season! Needless to say I'm pretty pumped.

Laying Coal

I like to think I'm not as ignorant as I used to be back in high school and parts of college.  I also like to think that one of the things I've been able to develop more of is compassion.  That being said, this stuff is just hilarious.

This was introduced to me by my friend Bill, who recently purchased an F-250 Turbo Diesel, as seen on one of my prior posts.  He's going to convert it to run on fry oil within the year; that way we can scorn at Prius drivers for being so ecologically irresponsible.  Anyway, with a turbo diesel, when you mash the gas and the engine revs up, but before the turbo kicks in, the engine spews a bunch of exhaust out the back.  Some rednecks' trucks emit huge clouds of it.  Said hayseeds refer to it as "laying coal" among other things. 

I don't have anything against bicyclists on the road (accept when they're on a two lane road with a 45mph limit, going 25mph, side by side so they can chat while cars have to cross the double yellow, risking life and limb with oncoming traffic).  So maybe I do sometimes.  Check out this clip from the web.  Some yokel took laying coal and went professional with it.  Deadly accuracy - hysterical! 

Your Local Creepy Asian Market

If you like trying different kinds of foods, I recommend finding an Asian market nearby. My local Asian market is fortunately only about a mile away from me, and it's enormous. Not surprisingly, it's got a very clever and interesting name: Grand Asia Market. The place is huge. It's the size of a regular grocery store, but there's nothing regular about this one. It's an experience every time. There are aisles and aisles of foods that I have no idea what they are, all the writing is in Chinese, no one speaks English, the smells are downright terrifying, and the prices....fantastic!

I thought I was aware of what most vegetables were until I strolled through the produce section...anyone know what the hell a garanga is? If you are a serious carnivore, they've got just about every organ from every animal you can think of....livers, feet, gizzards, kidneys, frozen blood, intestines, and I even found pork uterus. What someone does with that I have no idea. Given that we are below the Mason Dixon, my guess would be deep fry it, throw in a side cup of ranch, and serve it to hungry rednecks.

I like to go into this place with an idea of what I'm shooting for, because after about 15 minutes the smell starts to get to you. They have about 15 different kinds of whole fish out on ice, octopus, crabs and even live tilapia and trout. It smells like a fish market. Not only do they have durian fruits, but they even have durian fruit flavored popsicles. Take a minute to google a durian fruit - you'll find plenty of videos of people trying to eat them, some vomiting before it even hits their lips. I want to try one, but I won't go it alone. Let me know if you're down and I'll pick one up. My favorite line from the wikipedia article on durian fruit is:

"... its odor is best described as pig-shit, turpentine and onions, garnished with a gym sock. It can be smelled from yards away. Despite its great local popularity, the raw fruit is forbidden from some establishments such as hotels, subways and airports, including public transportation in Southeast Asia."

Anyway, they've got nori sheets, 5-10lb bags of sushi rice, and just about anything else you could think of to make sushi rolls, including the bamboo mats. The picture quality sucks because I didn't care how everything looked on the plate and it was taken with Jensen's Blackberry, but it sure tastes good, and for about $12 I made somewhere around 7-8 rolls. This one was mostly tuna, avocado, and cucumber, with different sauces.

Quail eggs on top? Sure, they've got them too.

A computer-printed label above the tuna steaks says "sashimi grade" in parenthesis, so who knows if it's really sashimi grade. We've been doing this for a few years now though and people only got sick once, so I can't say I'm too worried about it.

Getting into Heaven

According to some hardcore bible bangers, who likely pose a threat to society, the world is going to end tomorrow, May 21st, 2011. They're so convinced that many have sold all of their belongings to pay for things like billboards around the country. I saw one the other day in eastern North Carolina. Shocker.

Anyway, it's supposed to happen tomorrow at 6PM. Jensen and I have an engagement party to go to at 6:30, and it's supposed to have heavy hors d'oeuvres, so even if the apocalypse is a half hour to an hour behind schedule, we still wouldn't get our last supper in. That leaves no choice other than to have that meal this evening.

I recently found a butcher shop down the road that carries all sorts of interesting things--kind of like the asian market a few blocks away, but without some of the downright terrifying sights and smells (btw still haven't pulled the trigger on a durian fruit). I wish I hadn't discovered it on the second to last day of Earth, but better late than never. I figured Jensen and I could go out with a real bang, so guess what we're having for our last supper? You guessed it. Alligator and home brew.


Might as well make it interesting. We'll probably add some veggies and rice to tag along.

I could be doing this because I'm curious about what alligator tastes like. Or I could be doing this in the event that heaven gets overcrowded tomorrow evening (hundreds of millions of people would take some serious planning) and that it becomes a situation comparable to the great depression, where would-be day laborers line up along fences and the dock masters select the few that will get work, and therefore pay, for that day.

In the case like this, it's good to stand out. What if God was having trouble making up His mind, and threw out a question: "What did everyone have for their last supper?"

You'd get all kinds of responses.

One guy would say "Frozen pizza. I washed it down with some Crystal light, too"

Another might say "Filet mignon with a bleu cheese butter, herb garlic whipped potatoes, and a Napa Cab to represent the blood of Christ."

"Rosemary chicken with couscous and asparagus with hollandaise sauce."

"Alligator and homebrew." Done. Shoe-in. It's at least unique enough to make it to the finals or semi-finals of the competition, if not right through the gates. I'm sure God would add something like "When my son was on earth, everyone drank so much wine only because people hadn't yet developed the strains of fresh Northwest hops that give a real kick to an American IPA." This meal might even leave some room for negotiation; Jensen and I are a package deal, and I'm not going without her. She'd get in way before this anyway. Me, I don't know about that. I can't begin to count the number of times one of my friends like Jared said something like, "you're goin' to hell, Cook."

Aside from uniqueness, think of it from this angle: Chickens just mind their own business all day - eating seeds, pecking around. Cows are friendly, slow animals who just eat grass and produce milk for many naive people who still believe it's actually good for you; but that's not their fault. Pigs are actually very loyal, gentle and as intelligent or more so than the average family dog.

But not alligators. For thousands of years, alligators have been ripping the limbs off of unsuspecting fisherman all over the world. They regularly eat dogs. Mattafack, Florida alligators live off a steady menu consisting of swamp rednecks, wading birds, retired seniors wearing wrap-around sunglasses, and Pomeranians. I'm practically doing God's work by eating this beast.

Life in the Cackalack

I was just thinking about how good life in the Cackalacky has been lately. I've been really busy--a lot to do with work, and recently Jensen moved in, so there's been a lot going on.

Anyway, it's only May and I've gotten a lot of quality trips in, with even more to come. Next weekend will be the fourth or fifth beach trip.

We headed to Carolina Beach over Easter with some friends. When you head down to Fort Fisher, there are other people, but at the same time it's sort of like having your own beach. And at Fort Fisher, it's against the law to not be redneck.

My buddy Bill just moved back to NC and his truck ensured that we were in accordance with this law:


Complete set up with grill, tent, and jacked up Ford turbo diesel. Everything you need to kick it at CB. Minus the High Lifes.





photo courtesy of Randy Childs


One of the other things I like about spring down here, is that you can trunk it in April. Hopping in the water without a wetsuit, no problem.


After about 30 minutes though I had to get out; my hands were blue and I couldn't move my arms much anymore. Still felt good to do it though.



photo courtesy of Randy Childs

At different times over the last few years I had thought about eventually moving out west, toward Colorado or some place like that. As time rolls on, I know that's not for me. When I fall or face plant, I don't want it to be on snow, ice, or frozen earth, I want it to be in the water...see exhibit A:







That wave was at least 10 feet. Must've hurt.

photo courtesy of Randy Childs


Anyway, onto the homebrew front. I don't mean to float my own boat. I'm not one to really drink my own cool-aid. I don't really think it's right for one to pat oneself on the back. But...I think I'm starting to get pretty good with turning this:

and this:






into some of this:



I'm serious, look how delicious that looks. That's a shot of my latest IPA sitting on the deck. I brewed this one with 3 types of malts and 2 hop varieties. It's far from perfect, but it clocks in at 7.5% and tastes pretty damn good.

If that picture doesn't make you want to have a beer, you're nuts. Or perhaps you are the type of person who would rather be sipping some kind of mixed drink that has Malibu in it. Get you some!

Beach Weekend II

This year's beach weekend was awesome. I had been looking forward to it for months, and it didn't let me down.

As to be expected, there was plenty of laughs, plenty of beer, cards, several vomits, and a few cheese slams, to name a few.

Let's start with this year's roster.

Making up for missing last year, is Dooley.



Also goes by Dool show, and to very few people, Ian. Dooley is our resident mixologist and hails from the rock (chief). When talking to Dooley, if you say anything that has to do with Boston, Nantucket, or any kind of rum, you have to yell "chief" afterwards. Dool show set out to explore New Zealand for a few months, and ended up staying for two years. When he got back, we learned he was now married. Sick wedding Dooley.


Disregard me in the foreground with that stupid long-brimmed hat that Owen finds every time he's there.


Next we have Robert.



Goes by RED, Rdoug, Dougbert. He was the first recipient of this year's cheese slam award. This picture was after he thought he caught the slam for the second night in a row, when really it was just a fake. If it weren't for Rob, Darren would likely be dead by now. Rob once hurled right on the side of Buckingham Palace. It could have been some leftover bitterness from the Revolutionary War, but it was more likely because of the gentleman below.

Cawley.



Goes by Cal. Cal was on the London trip with Robert during a study abroad for school, and after Rob was having the worst hangover of his life at the time (until beach weekend last year), Cawley was asking Rob if he wanted to gnaw on a stick of butter, or take mayonnaise shots with budweiser chasers. This led to the immediate booting on the Queen's primary residence. The double bird in the picture is likely going out to anything related to Pittsburgh or liberalism.


Scott ("Scawt!")




See back right of picture.
Goes by Owens or Y'Owens. His specialty is the cheese slam. If you don't know what that is, you don't want to. If you do know what that is, you probably wish you didn't. Owen desperately needs to get out of New York City. His former specialty is starting trouble, and claims that he didn't do anything to start it, when in actuality, it was probably about 75% him, 25% some guy who said something he immediately regretted. In Chapel Hill on Cal's birthday during school, apparently a car full of guys jumped Owen, kicked him a bunch of times, and stole his prized Mets hat. Owen didn't remember the ordeal until an hour later.

Jack.

Goes by Jack man, Biggs, Big, Large, Large guy, large man, or one of several hundred other names. He spent most of the time snoring next to the table or barking at people several houses down.





Here in spirit:

Corey.

Goes by Blake, Babe #1, Babe #2, Grilled Cheeses, or Babe Will You Make Me a Grilled Cheese. Corey couldn't make it this year because he's West Coasting at Gonzaga and couldn't fork out the cash for a plane ticket.

Darren

Goes by Salty, Salty Donkey, The Gow, or his Saltiness. Couldn't make this year because the man has a tight grip on him, pretty much to the point where breathing is difficult. This weekend was the end of quarter, so Darren was lucky if the man even let him eat lunch. I was half expecting him to show up Friday night at 2AM, like he did last year. His specialty is nearly burning down apartments with chicken nuggets two times in one night, and getting lost in Mexico after a binge, only to turn up two days later with no wallet and no shoes (he did some old world bartering and paid the cabby with his sandals).

The Pat Monster.

I'm shocked that Pat's still alive. Everything that has gone wrong throughout college he equates to bad luck, but upon deeper analysis, it's 100% his fault; he just hasn't accepted that yet. He came back from Thanksgiving one year with a shiner because he got knocked out by Ricco Rodriguez in a Vegas Casino. It's probably a good thing Pat didn't come down, especially if he was driving. While in school, he got pulled for DUI without having a sip of alcohol; in fact, he was the DD that night. I'm not saying he's a bad driver. I'm saying he's a terrible driver.



Since the water was cold and the waves decent, Dooley and I decided to dress up like penguins and go surfing. Dooley has been pretty much all over the world surfing, and on days like this, when some of the sets were 5-6 feet, he doesn't say anything, but I know he's thinking "man, this is average, I wish it was double overhead."



















The weather forecast looked like shit all week coming up to the weekend, especially after Rob jinxed it by sending everyone the link. Turned out that there was nothing to complain about at all. It was supposed to rain one day, and missed us by only a few miles or so, leaving a big gay rainbow over the ocean in front of the house.


And we all know there's only one way to pose in front of a rainbow: Like you've got one on the bumper of your car.














Pretty cool pictures taken by Dooley though. He did some enhancing effect on this one and I can't figure out if it's out of a really good dream or a really bad one.










Already looking forward to next year's trip. In the mean time, Owen has gotten engaged; congrats buddy.


It's been about a year since I started the ole blog and I feel like my reasons for doing so have shifted. At first, I thought it would be a good idea because in general I've got a lot to say about a lot of things. But what I've realized after typing out these posts is that just the act of writing them out has made me realize what great times I'm having. If anything I won't have to look back one day and say "wow I really had it great"--instead, I can appreciate it for all it's worth right now.

Spring Beach Trip and Mini Hiatus

Last night I got back from about two weeks in Nags Head. It was an all around awesome trip. For the first part of it, my dad had come down for a few days to fix some stuff at the house. He's always good company, and considering he's a pretty damn good cook, I ate well.

Over the weekend we had a crew of about 10. Pretty much a perfect crew, actually. Despite the fact that not everyone knew each other prior, everyone got along famously. I have trouble sitting still even on vacation; the thought of laying on a chair on the beach or by a pool all day makes me cringe. Fortunately, this was the type of group that is always down for going somewhere or doing something.

I forgot to take pictures, and I think Jensen forgot her camera, and she's usually the one who leads that charge.






Photo courtesy of Randy Childs.




A friend Randy, has a dog, Silas, that's a Carolina Dog, which is an American Dingo. Mattafack, Silas' parents were actually wild. And I'm not talking about strays; these wild dogs have been living in the backwoods and swamps for thousands of years. Pretty cool dog, too. It's amazing how well they seem to adapt to being first generation pets. In the background I'm heading out to catch a few rides and a few faceplants as well.

Later on in the week, it was just the Jack Dog and me. Once in a while when I'm down there and have a little spare time, I like to drive south to check out the goings on, or better yet, lack thereof. About 10 miles down the road is the Oregon Inlet, which connects the Pamlico Sound to the Atlantic. Here you can literally find some of the best fishing in the world.

Here's an awesome pic of the bridge and inlet from National Geographic:



I was talking with the Bob, the owner of Bob's Grill (eat and get the hell out), one morning and he said the Oregon Inlet is closing up. The currents are taking sand out of some areas and putting the sand into others. Recently a guy at the wheel of a 56 foot fishing boat ran into a piling, and the currents were so strong that water came onto his boat and sank the whole thing in 3 minutes. A 56 foot boat went down in 3 minutes--hard to imagine, until I saw that the entire Pamlico Sound, which spands about 1/4 of the coast of NC, only has two points where water comes in and out of the Atlantic, and this is one of them. I've said it before and I'll say it again, one of the things I like most about the Outer Banks is how mother nature always has the upper hand.

It's pretty well known that the condition of the Oregon Inlet Bridge is absolutely terrible. It was analyzed by an engineering company back in '06, which gave it a rating of 'poor,' and concluded that in it's current state, without repairs, the bridge would only be considered safe for roughly another 6 years or so.

Anyway, my destination on these short treks is usually Pea Island, a few miles past the bridge. The road narrows, and to the left is one dune and the ocean, and to the right you'll find marshes as far as you can see. If you show up after a big storm, sometimes the roads are so flooded that you can't even cross, at least I can't in the Sube without getting all kinds of salt water in the engine. As far as I know, salt water and engines have yet to get along. No houses will ever be built here, as it's a protected zone. Matt and I used to come down this way in the summers looking for waves. There are a few areas where you can pull to the side of the road and walk up the dune to check the surf. One of these places is known locally as Boilers.


It's called Boilers because you can see the boiler stack of a shipwreck sticking out of the water. It's the wreck of the Oriental, and this beast went down in 1862. We had been surfing here for years without even noticing it. Word on the street is that some pretty big fish like to hang out in the area, including the kind that you don't want to piss off.

On the right day, you can be the only person on the beach for miles, and Jack took full advantage, running full loops, jumping in the ocean, peeing on every piece of driftwood and every clump of seaweed and of course making my car stink like wet dog afterward.

I was just getting into a good routine by mid week the second week- work all day with a few breaks to head to the water for a few, drop by the store early evening and get what I need to make a bad ass dinner for myself, get some work done at night with the door cracked so I could hear the ocean. But of course, when it was time to go, the weather jumped to about 65, the sun was steady, and the wind died down, as if to taunt me.

I shouldn't complain though, in two weeks or so it'll be annual beach weekend, which will be sicckkkk. I should start hydrating now.

February Trip and Round 2 of Beach Weekend

We headed down to Carolina Beach for the polar plunge 2 weeks back. Jensen's family owns a cottage about 5 blocks from the water- just far enough away that you can walk to the ocean in a few minutes, but don't get all of the traffic. It's not just any place though; her grandfather built it with his bare hands back in the 60s. Homes built with the original owners' bare hands carry just a little more love within the walls.

I love some Carolina Beach. The place had a reputation for being a little rough for many years, but has cleaned up nicely. It's perfect actually; you still get to see some pretty special people if you catch my drift.

My routine when I get down there is usually about the same for Saturday mornings; roll out of bed with a headache, walk out to the screened-in porch, ask jack if he wants to go for a car ride (and he's already shot up and raced to the door after "you wanna go---") and head down to the bean to grab some coffees. On the way back I'll check the water for waves, which there usually aren't any in front of the house.

We then head down to Fort Fisher, a nearby state park. That's usually where we find a wave or two, like we did this time, as evidenced by the photo below, taken by government satellites. I love the kinds of days where we half-reluctantly get wet suited up (just doing that can be a real pain in the balls) and paddle out to end up finding 2-3 foot, fun little waves.





Jensen got a new board from a friend and was taking them down the line with Corbin. For one reason or another, I got a good several months' worth of face plants in along with a few good rides.


Graaaaant, will you wax my board?



Slaving away. I even caught some sunburn in February. Of course, I'm an easier target than most with the amount of coverage on my dome. The sun was probably saying, "man it's too early in the year to fry all those beach patrons....wait, check out that dude with the five head- I got this"




Considering the amount of pain I go through when having to leave CB on Sundays, I really should be living closer to the beach. Two hours isn't far, but still. I'm even more thankful to be able to have the freedom to go there, or OBX when I want, without some a-hole manager scratching his chin while deciding whether or not I can take some of my vacation time. Besides, now I just work from wherever I am at the moment.

This leads me to thinking....2 more beach trips coming up, the second being the 2nd annual beach weekend with my college friends. I say annual because I'm really hoping we can do this every year.

I don't have much in the archive in terms of leftover pictures, but regardless, let's take a stroll down memory lane.

Last year involved whistling pigs, several thousand busch lights, 80 degree beach days, face plants, admittedly a cheese slam, typical Darrenisms, and all sorts of good times.

Here's how I ended up one night.



Btw Jack thanks for the pillow effect; you've earned your spot on this year's trip.








As I got up and looked around, everyone was in this general condition...








Solid, Owen, solid.

And this wasn't just him, it was the entire room. Amazing how everyone falls asleep sitting up, beer still in hand with no spills or drops. This takes some serious balance, and plain old talent in general, but what can I say, we are a group of talented guys.


Unfortunately Cooper (see below) won't be able to make it, but I'm hoping him reading this will convince him to sell some valued personal belongings or family heirlooms on craigs list and fork out the 7 hundo for a plane ticket from Washington state.








"Man, sitting here with the dog playing poker with everyone is like heaven. I can't wait to do this next year.....oh wait"


On a brighter note, Dool show and Cal have confirmed for this year. Instead of imitating Dooley the entire time, we get the real thing this year. Shaping up to be another classic.

btw Corey you are in, whether you like it or not.

Good Songwriters

I've got a lot of places to go and a lot of living to do in the mean time, but when I'm old, gray and tired, I'm gonna sit on my sailboat or porch, depending on the day, and listen to John Prine....







Even if you've never heard of him, which most people I'm sure haven't, how could you watch something like this and not want to have a chair across from him and learn some things?

Though the guy never truly made it big on a commercial level, a few decades ago many people were predicting he'd be the next Dylan.

Are you OK?

Yes. The answer is always yes. Even if it's "yeah, but..."

This is a rule that should be followed by all guys. If someone asks you if you are ok, no matter what the circumstances, your answer is always "yes." I don't care if your leg is broken the opposite direction and you are bleeding profusely, your answer needs to be yes. Otherwise, you're acting like a you know what (I'll keep it clean).

A reasonable example for this situation would be the following:

"Are you ok?"

"Yeah I'm ok, but my leg is shattered and I'm bleeding. I need some help right away."

If you say no in this situation, the only thing left for you to do is scream cry.

Looking back on it, Matt and I were ahead of our time at the ripe age of 6. I remember even back in kindergarten, we'd always make a big deal out if it if someone said they weren't ok. As terrible and soulless as it sounds, we'd even imitate them and pretend we were crying.

What I'm talking about is not a matter of being 'tough' or anything. I'm not sure what it's a matter of, actually. Maybe just my [sometimes humble] opinion.

This was just inspired by a situation I was in the other day. I won't go into specifics because the person might be reading this, but let's just say that yeah he was OK and it really wasn't a big deal. I gave Jensen this rant and she just listened with a half smirk, as if she was thinking "well I kind of agree with you, but you're sort of an asshole at the same time."