Theater of Wind and Waves

Greens are turning to yellows, some reds are popping up, and I'm a few days out from my 2012 hiatus.  This is when man and dog escape from the hustle and bustle of society to work in solitude, explore, and recharge.  I've got a few things to do around the house in Raleigh, fix dings in the surfboards, and everything else should fall into place.

Aside from my excitement about the whole ordeal, now is also the time when I think back to earlier trips.  I found some pictures from this year.

Back to July...

5:30AM

This year wasn't unlike any other  in terms of weather; hot, muggy, barely a breeze.  Water temp was in the solid 80s, and with that, barring a storm, comes crystal clear water for a few hundred yards off of the shoreline.

I saw a lot more nature this year.  Schools of bait fish were pretty constant, along with diving birds and dolphins.  I don't get the chance to get close to dolphins too often, but let me tell you from experience--those fuckers are pretty big!  Flipper may look cuddly on TV, but bottle nose dolphins can get upwards of 12 feet, and have the brass to back it up.  Years ago, when Matt and I were surfing, we saw a pod approaching, and I paddled over to get a better look.  I didn't see anything at first, but noticed movement below my line of sight.  I was sitting on my board, and a full grown dolphin slowly swam right under me, on its back, looking up directly into my eyes.  It was a pretty powerful experience, in a non-hippie kind of way.  I suppose he was just checking out what the hell was going on in his ocean.

Jensen and I had paddled out to a sandbar about 75 yards from shore to mess around on some 1-2 ft junk waves.  There were a few other people around swimming.  As we sat on our boards, waiting for the next set to come in, floating up and down, I saw a looming brown/grey mass under the water about 30 ft away.  Jensen immediately said "what was that?"  I replied, "We should paddle back to shore now."  I'm over 6 ft, and this fish had a few feet on me, putting him somewhere around 8-10ft by my estimate.  I've seen sharks before while in the water, but never anything over a few feet.  I wasn't overly worried, given that it was probably a sand tiger shark, which is harmless, but there's no way to know.  Sand tigers eat small fish, things like that.  The other possibility was that it was a tiger shark, which is quite different.  They eat things like fish, turtles, humans, squid, tin cans, family pets and Volkswagens.  Pretty badass fish, and not the kind you want to be swimming with.  Regardless of what it was, it's always cool to experience things like that in the wild.  Even better to experience it when you reach shore with all limbs intact.

There are always good reminders of past storms and shifting land on the island.  We drove south down highway 12, looking for something to do.

About 20 miles down the road, some clean, 3 foot waves were breaking outside of a new inlet created the year before by that raging biatch Hurricane Irene.  When Irene came through in 2011, it was one for the ages, and we were at a place where the times are defined and marked by storms.  They have historically altered the landscape, creating new inlets, closing off current ones, swallowing beaches, homes, and anything else hanging around.  At this particular spot, the winds blowing off of the sound side had connected the Atlantic ocean to the fresh water ponds on the other end of the highway and boom, a new inlet was born.  Pretty cool, unless you live on Hatteras island, in which case you're totally fucked.  This is the only highway connecting you to somewhat important things like food and fresh water.  They had to do everything by ferry for months after the event.  I remember reading an article while down there and the author described the island as a "theater of wind and waves."  I've never heard of a better way to describe the Outer Banks, particularly in the off season.

After mother nature kicked man in the junk, man got up and said "well, get a load of this shit," and threw together a new bridge.  This temporary bridge looks like a patched pair of jeans, but it works.

Here's the bridge over the small inlet.

This spot broke for the next few days, and if you got there early enough in the morning, you could basically have it all to yourself.  The one morning we saw a manta ray leap clear out of the water.  It sort of makes you wonder if he was just showing off for the ladies or on the run from something bigger.  We had a few hours there, but by mid morning it was getting crowded.  When you drive down Highway 12, sometimes you'll see cars parked along the side of the road at seemingly random places, meaning that something's up.

This will be my fourth hiatus, and the song remains the same:  working, surfing, exploring, relaxing--the vast majority of the time, just the Jack dog and me.

Lord of the Manor Title

For the world championship:

This just reeks of arrogance.  Picking up strong notes of smug disdain for the middle and lower classes of society.  Pure contempt, truly the face of a self-centered prick.

I took last year's to another level with some added bitterness toward those less well-to-do.

The stars were aligned for this one.

Lake Activities

Down here in North Cack, we've got some pretty big lakes.  There's practically a subculture in these areas; mainly that of rednecks who like to party at lakes.  I may not be a redneck myself, but I likes to get down at the lake as much as the next guy.

Anyway, my good friend Bill, who lived with me for several years, used to have a 28 ft pontoon boat, upper deck and all, and a bunch of us spent the good majority of the summers of '08 and '09 living it up at Jordan Lake.  Trust me, there are few things as fun as floating around a boat at night with a bunch of friends, occasionally getting a beer thrown out to you by someone on board, your own campsite not too far away.  Bill used to talk once in a while about eventually living on a boat, and I'll be damned if the son'bitch didn't go out and make that happen just a few months ago.

He pulled the trigger on a 39ft Sea Ray up in Maryland.  It's not a houseboat, but it's got ample room to live aboard, and plenty of room for a bunch of people to hang out on.  At one point, due to construction and highway regulations, he thought he'd have to bring the boat down to North Carolina by way of the Atlantic. This would be roughly a 3 day journey, likely consisting of dodging tankers and sand bars, fishing, sunburn, dehydration, piracy on the high seas, drinking, and sleeplessness.  I told him that if he had any inkling of a thought of going on this adventure without me, I'd probably never speak to him again.  Unfortunately, however, my dreams were shattered as he found a transport service for a reasonable rate.

Here's a pic.  Bill was wise enough to provide a sense of scale--that matchbox car next to the boat is a full-sized F250.

So the other day he sent me a quick e-mail saying something about how people are able to surf behind boats if the wake is big enough, and that we should give it a shot.  It sounded like a good idea to me, so that weekend I hauled out my long board to see if we could make it work.  You get some pretty strange looks from the 'necks at the lake when you show up with a surfboard.  Some seem to get it right away, and others look at you thinking "the hell's that idiot gonna do with that thing?"

His boat/home, at the right speed, will create a wake about 3 feet high, and in turn, a "never ending" wave behind it.  The best part is, it only costs several hundred thousand dollars in gas money to run at this speed.  After a few tries, we got the whole thing wired and sure enough, it works.

Here's a clip pulled from one of the runs.  I know I know, the beer thing.  We just wanted to see how it would work out.



 After a few runs we really started getting the hang of it.  I'm thinking of using a different board; something smaller with a little more drive to allow for deeper turns, but for cruising around in general, you can't beat a 9 foot long board.

No shortage of finding things to do around here.  Life is good.

The Kingdom is Shaping Up

 I've been doing some work to my kingdom lately.

For one, I just put up my hop trellises.  The goal was to not have to buy any lumber or hardware; instead just using scrap pieces that I had in the barn, and although they aren't exactly beautiful, they're functional.  Come late summer I'm hoping to have hop vines hanging off of the deck, and come fall to be hopping my brews with the freshest, handpicked, homegrown hops.  This is going to take local beer to a whole new level.  I'll be enjoying fresh brewed ales while lounging under a hop vine.  It's an experience, really.  If you're one of those people who claim to actually enjoy your little Miller Lights, it's just too advanced for you, so go put on a pink button-down and watch Entourage or something.

Anyway, the rest of the place has really taken off.  I feel like I'm a traffic director for mother nature sometimes.  Back in the summer of '08, I said fuggit' and bought two bullfrog tadpoles from a garden shop down the road.  Evidently one was male and the other female, and now there's at least a dozen bullfrogs in my fish pond.  It's cool to hear them at night and everything, but I need them to sack up and cut back on the mosquito population.  More on that in a moment.

I'm all for some of the simple pleasures in life.  If you want to see some discovery channel type action, just stand still in my yard for a few minutes and let it unfold.  The other day I was watching two lizards fighting along the edge of a pond for a few minutes.  After a bit, two eyes appeared in the water right below them, and a frog leaped out trying to grab one.  Unfortunately he missed, but how awesome would that have been?  For that brief moment, it was like I was a little kid catching anything that moved down at the crick.  That's right, we say "crick" instead of creek in Pennsylvania.  If you didn't catch frogs and snakes growing up, you missed out, so go do it this weekend.  Especially if the snake is shaded with light and dark browns in a camouflaged pattern; be sure to go after that one.  Anyway, all of this commotion has attracted the newest member of the group, Reeves:

Reeves is a shitty hunter, but I still like him.    Maybe he just didn't have any role models growing up.  Instead of sneaking up on the bullfrogs, he just slithers right up to them like he's approaching a buffet.  As far as I know he's batting zero, but he may have a few notches on his belt.

The chain will probably carry on further from here.  I'll try not to be surprised if the hawk scoops him up one day, but I hope it's not for a while---the bullfrog population is getting out of line.

Since the frogs haven't seemed to do much damage on the mosquitoes, I've decided to take it a step further and build a bat house big enough for about a hundred bats.  Why sit there in reactive mode, swatting away and showering yourself in deet, when you can call in the cavalry?  Own it.  Turn the hunters into the hunted.  One bat can eat 1000 mosquitoes every hour.  I'm trying to figure out where to put this bat house, and at this point all things are pointing toward right up on the back of my house-house.  Jensen is less than thrilled, but she's still cool with it.

Aside from that, it's officially wedding season again, and by year's end I believe we'll have been to another 6 weddings.  That's 5 in 2010, 6 in 2011, and another 6 in 2012.  Three beach trips lined up within the next month or so.  Life doesn't suck.

Blowing Rock

Just took a trip out to Blowing Rock, North Cack.  It's a small town in the Appalachian Mountains, about 3 hours due west of Raleightown.  Been meaning to get out here for a while now, especially since it's an easy drive and a beautiful place.

The first day there we checked out the old town, which spans for about a quarter mile. 

On Saturday, our plan was to head to Grandfather Mountain, about 15 miles southwest of us, but upon arriving we learned that those dirtbags wanted like 20 bucks just to drive up to the ledge, so out of spite we carried on down highway 221.  The drive up there is pretty wild.  You are winding up a mountain at ridiculous angles.  I couldn't take my car out of third gear or I'd lose ground.  The bends are so sharp that you just sort of hope that there aren't any cars in the opposite lane, and if they are, you just hope they know what the hell they're doing--there isn't a guardrail-- just air, and a steep drop.  This kind of thing doesn't bother me much, but Jensen made a few comments about it, and that was all I needed to jerk the wheel toward the edge every few minutes to keep her on her toes.

Then we hit the Blue Ridge parkway.  This was the first time I'd ever been on it.  It's known for being the place to ride if you've got a motorcycle, but being that I sold mine 5 years ago, the Sube would have to do.  The Blue Ridge parkway isn't some big highway; it's a small, narrow two lane road, with a max speed limit of 45, and it winds up and down through mountain passes.  Perfect for enjoying the view.

We stopped a few places to check things out, and found hiking trails that led to some pretty cool views.  Here's one that looked out over miles of trees and hills:

  Down the road another 15 miles or so we found some trails that led out to a big waterfall.  It's a shame it wasn't warmer out- the water was crystal clear.

 




The Cherokees called these mountains "The Great Blue Hills of God." 

At night the moon just hung right out over the sky, like it was dangling from a string, just above my head.  When it came out the second night, I planned on taking a pic of it, but forgot.  In retrospect, I'm glad I forgot:  camera phones weren't meant to capture this, and it would never do it justice.  Now I don't know about what goes on in others' minds when they look up and see this, but if conditions are clear and quiet, I always think back to what things must have been like before "modern" civilization and science--before we knew what we know now.  I can see how people conjured up ideas of inanimate objects having life.  In fact, sometimes it's easy for me to convince myself that the moon is not just a rock, but a living thing, coming out to watch over everything each night.

This trip, I also discovered the Mountain Limp - it's the often subtle, slight limp or dragging of just one's leg, while everything else looks completely normal.  Ever see some hilljack yocal walk with a slight gimp?  Well that's it.  I saw a few of them, but the best example was the one lugging himself into Food Lion in town with his larger-than-life son, and let me tell you, his son may have had the most graceful Mountain Limp on this side of the Carolinas. I didn't think to take a picture of it, but I guess that would be rude.  Then again, so is talking about it.

Once in a while, it's great to get outta town and not have it be a big weekend of partying and debauchery.  When this Sunday came around, I was actually recharged, instead of vise versa.

On a side note I just ordered my hop rhizomes; I'll be growing my own hops for my craft brews this year.

Catching Up

It's been a busy few months to say the least.  I'm a creature of habit, and I got out of the habit of jotting things down, so there's been a long gap here.
I had some photos laying around from when I disappeared from society to the Outer Banks in November.  I didn't get a full two weeks in like I wanted, but I've making up for it now in February.

Floating back to November~~~

Whenever I get the idea that I want to head to Nags Head, I have to go immediately.  I was coming off of a weekend of total debauchery, the most of any wedding on the circuit the last few years, then had to run a local seminar for work, drive to Atlanta for another meeting, then drive back the following day.  I arrived back in Raleigh around 9PM, and almost left for Nags Head at 10.  I decided to have patience, and bumped it back a few hours to 4:30AM.

Leaving early in the morning is practically a ritual for me.  It's only a three hour drive through eastern North Cackalack.  By the time daylight breaks, I only have an hour to go.  That way I get to see the very first light onward, and I'm heading due east the whole time, right into it.  Ever been to Eastern NC?  Well the whole damn place looks like this:

Pretty much nothing but soybean fields and factory farms.














Nags Head never disappoints in the off-season; chilly, windswept, and grey.

Having the Jack Dog along is a must.  Mattafack, I don't even know if I'd want to come out here for these trips if he couldn't.  He goes everywhere with me here.  At night he's on full guard and if he hears a bump or loud rattle from the wind, I hear a low-pitched, deep growl, or warning bark.  Here's the large guy doing his thing by the water.

That's his expression for being really happy...the same expression he uses for every other emotion, including frustration, anger, contentment, deep thought, exhaustion, and that one where you know there's absolutely nothing going on in his head.

Each sunrise is a fresh start.  Everything is quiet and calm--not even the wind is up yet.  It's the time when all in the world seems innocent, as if it hasn't yet been corrupted by the chaos of everyday life. 

 
Anyway I paddled out and caught a few waves.  I'm usually out with others, which I love doing, but being alone is fine as well.  Sometimes it's eerie being out in the middle of winter, without even another soul on the beach- the water is cold, often rough, and foamy.  If anything it makes me appreciate the warmer months, where I'm not confined to a wetsuit, and I don't get ice cream headaches every time I duck a wave.
I always tell my coworkers that if I'm paddling out early in the day and not on the 4PM conference call, that mother nature has won.

At night, I let Jack out and while he roams around, looking for the perfect place to take care of his business, I stare up at the sky.  If you look up here on a clear night, you forget about how cold it is.  I had no idea there were even that many visible stars.  It's like stepping out into a theater.  You can see the milky way streak across the sky.  There's something very humbling about the night sky without light pollution.  I'm not kidding when I say it nearly knocks the wind out of me.  I could sit out there and watch it every night for the rest of my life.

I've been trying to figure out the feeling I get when I'm here, and I think I'm finally onto it.  My family has had this place since I was 13 years old, which is over half of my life.  Homes, aside from being shelters, store memories.  Each time I'm here, I can practically see a film reel of the last 14 years of my life.  Not so much in terms of vacations or time spent here, but more so the chapters of my life that they represent.  As strange as it sounds, I was talking about this same concept before with my friend Rollen, who also plays guitar.  We were talking about how difficult it is to sell old guitars, even if you don't play them much.  They all represent different time periods of my life.  I've only sold one of them, and it was to my best friend's dad.  Even that was difficult.  I've got acoustics laying around everywhere at home.  As your boy Bill Shakespeare might say, "though this be madness, yet there is method in it."


I found this picture from home over Christmas.  I had to put it up somewhere, but figured it would be trashy to post on facebook.  As you can see, it's ok for a man to wear an apron, as long as it's a badass apron that gets your point across.

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.