Here Comes the Sun

As the morning has progressed, the blue skies have emerged. Slowly at first, but eventually overtaking the clouds and spanning across the whole of the sky. Spirits are up, the music is playing, and everyone in the house is determined to make this day the best of our trip so far. As I type, everyone is getting ready to hit the beach. Towels are in hand, bathing suits are on and the sun tan lotion has been applied. I'd go into a lot more detail, but I think, for the day's sake, I'm going to cut this one short.

Here Comes the Sun. Thank you, Mr. Harrison.

The Shorewalker and the Storm

When one goes on vacation, especially to a southern destination such as the beach, one has an expectation. Warm weather, for one. Or, at least, sunny skies. Unfortunately, with the exception of the first full day we were here, we haven't gotten either in over 48 hours. About two weeks ago, I checked the weather to see what we were in for once we arrived and I saw nothing but rain and cloudy skies in our futures. I've long accepted that this would be more of an indoor retreat than anything else, but with everything the ocean and our surroundings should have to offer, it can turn somewhat oppressive if you let it. I refuse.

After the events of last night, all of which for privacy's sake, I won't go into here, we all in our own ways retreated to different corners of the house. Leila spent some time reading on the top-floor deck during a break in the clouds. Marty stayed close to his room and downloaded scores of music to keep us in good spirits for the rest of the trip. Katalina and Claire popped in a movie. Julia stayed close to her phone for any further updates. I went for a long walk by myself along the beach.


The ocean, as I've stated before, is a near-perfect place to clear your head. The repetition of the rolling waves can be borderline hypnotic and you see absolutely wonderful things happen along the shore. You see older couples walking hand-in-hand, children in the midst of primal innocence as they build their fortification walls and sand castles against the onslaught of the rising tide. You see families joined together by the water and many many others just enjoying what nature has to offer.

I've had a lot to think about lately, and the therapeutic effect of the sea has only given me more insight, regardless of the ominous, threatening clouds or the torrential rain that has confounded our days here so far. Such as everything else in life, the rain will pass. It will move on...maybe, just maybe, while we're still here on the island. In the meantime, I'm going to continue writing (I nailed out over 20 pages of a new script I've been thinking about lately), relaxing, and enjoying each and every moment that we're here. I will walk the shore again tomorrow morning and the next day, even if I have to get completely drenched doing it. The sea is a gift...why waste it?

As the Sun Rises in the East

There is absolutely nothing like seeing the sun rise, or set, over the water. Whether it be the waters of the Atlantic ocean, or the shallow basin of Lake Erie, these sights can be truly breathtaking. However, there's something to be said about a sunrise. It's the start of a new day. As the first lip of that burning red sphere starts to peek over the distant horizon, all of the stress and tension from the day before seems to fade away into the emerging light. Within minutes, the blazing orb is at its fullest, slowly crawling up into the rapidly lightening sky. Magnified by the dense collection of moisture near the horizon, our sun is at its largest state of being, and nothing can be more captivating. It's official; a new day has begun, full of fresh possibilities.

I woke up early this morning, roughly 5:45am or so, quietly left the house (everyone, understandably, was still asleep) and slowly walked the 600ft from our house to the beach. Since we arrived late last evening, I hadn't a chance to head down there before we all crashed for the night, so I figured this would be my best opportunity to reacquaint myself with the Atlantic shoreline for the first time in almost ten years. As I walked down the wooden steps and stepped onto the soft, deep sand, I was greeted by a blazing red sky, immediately bringing to mind my Grandpa Vimmerstedt's old Navy proverb, "Red sky in the morning, Sailor's warning." We're supposed to get hit with some vicious thunderstorms this evening, so I couldn't help but smile at the logic. It seems absurd. Maybe not so much.


I spent the next hour watching the sun rise into the morning sky. I consider myself a fairly good writer, but right now I'm having a hard time putting these moments into words. Even the picture I'm posting to go along with this entry doesn't quite do it it justice...and it's a pretty amazing photo. To put it bluntly, I was alone, and not a soul could be seen or heard in either direction down the shoreline. I was sitting, legs crossed, in the sand facing immediately east, bathing myself in the light of the dawn. My eyes were closed most of the time, and I was concentrating fairly hard on letting my body completely relax. ...And most importantly, I was breathing. This may sound like a huge load of New-Age bullshit to some people, but in all honesty, I haven't felt this at peace in months.

When I was a teenager, and dealing with the typical teen angst that most all teenagers do, my mom introduced me to a series of meditation and relaxation techniques that she used while trying to recover from cancer in the early 80's. It was alternative healing therapy that for her, on some level, worked. It had worked then, and it had worked today. Even though I wasn't obviously attempting to recover my body from a battle with cancer, or any other physical infection for that matter, I was in a sense, recovering. It's been a hard summer. It's been a busy summer. It's been a summer that I've been extremely proud of and will not soon forget, for so so many multiple reasons. But it took its toll, and this vacation is exactly what I need...as was this morning's sunrise.

I am so happy that I'm here.

Five States, Two Panic Attacks, and 14 Hours Later...

It's a long trip, Cleveland to Corolla, NC. In fact, Google-Maps says it should only take 11 hours and 45 minutes. Let me tell you right now, Google-Maps are a bunch of liars. Then again, Google-Maps didn't drive with three women and a blown fuse.

The girls arrived at my house this morning around 7am, and we pretty much had the car packed up and ready to go within 20 minutes. It was just about this time that we discovered that the cigarette lighter wasn't working. Thus, the GPS wasn't getting any power. And for all of those that understand the technology of a battery, an uncharged GPS is a useless GPS. ...We had a useless GPS. I checked the fuse box, spent an extra 15 minutes swapping out the spare fuses with the one in question to no success, thus we were now relying on Google Maps and my Car Atlas that I now keep in my Jeep for emergencies. There was a moment of panic where I saw society become overly dependent on technology. One could write an essay on this very topic. Then Claire busted out the Google-Maps. Way to go Claire. Claire is prepared. Everything is right again. Honestly, this is the way I'm used to road tripping, so the failed GPS didn't really bother me. Staring a some little machine that will tell me that I have 23.6 miles and 18.85 minutes left until my next right turn is not a fun driving experience, as far as I'm concerned. Give me a map any day.

I drove for the first six hours, then changed seats with Julia in Maryland, who then exchanged seats with Claire in Virginia. Claire (while not paying attention to the maps) ends up driving us through downtown Richmond in the effort to backtrack to the freeway that we should've stayed on in the first place. The upside of this maneuver was that we got to see the downtown/warehouse district neighborhood of the city, filled with eclectic restaurants and cool little brownstone-style bars. Richmond actually seems like a pretty cool town. A few hours later we cross into North Carolina and stop to grab a bite to eat. Katalina is now behind the wheel. We pull out of the restaurant to hear a loud thump and crash occur behind us. We our now aware that the back hatch of Katalina's car has popped open and there goes my bag (containing my precious computer) and Katalina's Nikon tumbling down the road. Panic ensues. I pretty much dive out of the car while it's still moving to run back and grab my computer. Thank GOD I had a padded backpack. Anything less and I'm sure that it wouldn't have made it. Obviously I'm working on it now, so everything turned out okay, but that was a scary few moments. Save from a small dent in the corner of the machine, it's working perfectly. I can breathe again, and for everyone here that uses a Mac...we all know what life would be like without our precious machines. Shit...I sound like Gollum. ...whatever. Gollum never had a Mac.

About an hour later we pulled up to the house to be greeted by both Leila and Marty. Josh, Pat and Megan were already in the hottub and it took us absolutely no time at all to get ourselves settled in, changed into our bathing suits, and joining them all in the bubbly.

It's a quiet, clear night tonight, and I think everyone else has pretty much gone to bed. It's been a long day for all of us, but tomorrow will be the real start of our vacation. I'm looking forward to doing nothing. I'm pretty sure I'm overdue.

Destination: The Outer Banks, NC

It wasn't so long ago, maybe just a few months, that our friend Leila raised the question of where we should all go on vacation this year.  We knew we wanted to take a trip together, but deciding on our destination was still up in the air.  It was unanimous that all of us wanted to visit the beach, so after a few random islands were tossed into the mix, the majority of us settled on where we're about to set off to today: The Outer Banks, NC.

To be honest, I don't know much about the area, but I've heard it's absolutely gorgeous.  Before I really fell into the group, I few of them had headed down there last summer around the 4th of July.  They've been dying to go back, so after a few rounds of discussions, we settled on a rental house for the week, paid our dues (only $165 for each of us, for the entire week...awesome!) and in just a few minutes, I'll be jumping in the car with my friends Julia, Claire and Katalina, and be on our way.  Marty and Leila drove separately yesterday, and the rest of the guys are heading out later today to pull an all-nighter.

It's a 12-hour drive, and I'll be making a few random updates throughout the week, but I'm planning on using this vacation as a more of a recovery model than anything else.  The nice thing about it that we are all going down with the mentality to do whatever we want...no schedules, no planned events...nothing.  So, even though the weather is supposed to be a bit spotty (luckily no hurricanes), I'm planning on getting in a lot of writing, mediation, and relaxation.  After the events of the past month, ...the past year even, I need it.  That said, we're packing up the car now and we'll be on our way in a few short minutes.  God knows, this vacation couldn't have come soon enough.

The Arrival into DC: Just Point Me to the Beer

Leaving work just after 2:00, I was able to swing by home, pick up Kino, throw a few last minute things together and manage to be on the road towards Youngstown by 3:30. I've done this part of the trip probably close to a million times, so to actually try and write about it is a bit of a challenge. Though this time around, I decided to play it somewhat stupid and slipped onto the Turnpike with less than eighth of a tank left in the car. With thirty miles to go before I got off at my exit, the low fuel light popped on and I made the decision to see how far I can push my car. Needless to say, everything turned out allright, and I was able to make it to the gas station off the exit 33 miles later, but I had never seen that needle drop so low. Those last few miles were surrouned by a few silent prayers that I wouldn't run out of steam on the Turnpike. My parents, who were patiently waiting at the exit to grab Kino, wouldn't appreciate it very much. I did drop him off with them though without incident, gave my thanks and hug goodbye, and jumped back on my way towards DC.


My drive into Washington was fairly uneventful, but extremely beautiful. I've driven through this part of the country in the mid-fall, when the leaves are at their peak, and if I were to come back, I would probably choose that time of year to do it, simply for the scenery. However, this time around I found myself passing through the lush laurel of mid-Pennsylvania and the red soil of northern Maryland, only to descend into DC sometime around 9:30pm. My GPS wove me along a few winding roads around the Chevy Chase neighborhood, through a long series of traffic lights and roundabouts, to finally, the front of Nick's condo in Columbia Heights, just adjacent to Mount Pleasant.


I found a parking spot just outside Nick's building and with his help, carried my bag and my bike up into his apartment. There I met his girlfriend Sarah again, whom I hadn't seen since about 2006 when all of us met in Cincinnati for the famous Labor Day fireworks. About fifteen minutes later, the three of us headed around the block to an English Pub in their neighborhood called The Common Wealth, where indulged ourselves on a basket of chips and a few pints of English ale. About 48 ounces in, Sarah decided she should head home while Nick and I hit up a few more of the local bars in the area. We actually only managed to make it one, a small indie dive bar called the Raven, which was mostly populated by Virginia students and random hipsters. We found an open two stools at the bar, where we sat and drank Yeungling until just before closing.

As of now, we're showered and ready to grab some south American breakfast before exploring the town. The weather is a bit spotty, but we're prepared to make the most of it. I'm more than sure that a little rain would hardly dampen the experience.

Off to Washington DC, Three Hours and Counting

In a few short hours, I'll be on my way in my trusty Jeep Patriot, heading southeast out of Cleveland towards our nation's capital to hang out with my buddy Nick for the weekend. And, if I'm lucky, hopefully I'll be able to see another friend or two as well while I'm out there. This DC trip is one that's long overdue as I've been promising Nick a visit since he moved out there over five years ago. Sad, I know, but it's an unfortunate fact that we all get wrapped up in our daily lives and sometimes it's just difficult to visit everyone we'd like to, especially between the multiple UC reunions and guy trips we've taken inbetween. The good thing is that we're all guilty of this, we're well aware of it, and we do all get together, it's like not a single minute has passed.

Most of my weekend trips so far this year have been blessed with cooperative weather, but today does not seem to be the case. Major thunderstorms have been pelting the eastern half of the US since last night, and they don't look to be clearing up until late tomorrow. My drive may not be the most easy-going trek that I've taken recently, but I've dealt with worse, so I'm not all that concerned. I'll just stay focused on the freshly poured beer that I've been promised upon my arrival and I'm sure that'll get me through any drive-related stress that I'll carry with me on the trip down.

I'm leaving work in about 2 and a half hours to stop home so I can pick up my weekend bag, my bike, poor Kino and his satellitte collar, then drop him off with my folks in Youngstown for the weekend, afterwhich I'll be well on my way. I should hit DC around 9/9:30, followed by what looks to be an all-night pub crawl. God help us.

Cincinnati, Finally

After four months of continual postponement of a weekend down to trip to Cincinnati, I finally made it down on May 30. The original plan was to drive down after work on Friday the 29th, but because of a networking event I needed to attend that night for the 48-hour Film Project: Cleveland, I decided it would be a best to leave the following morning after a full night's rest. Stocking up on a few bags of pizzeria combos, peanuts, beef jerkey and two bottles of green tea, I walked out my front door around 10:00am, diagonally crossed the state of Ohio in the midst of a beautiful and clear summer morning, and arrived in Brent & Chrissy's driveway not long after 2:00pm.

My buddy Dean was actually there to greet me at the door, as he had been helping the two of them hang wallpaper in the dining room for the past few hours. Although I had been there a few times already, this was a relatively new house for Brent and Chrissy. Their old place, a newly-renovated single-family home overlooking the Over the Rhine neighborhood from its location on the side of Price Hill , had sold a little over a year before. They had purchased that home shortly before they were married and spent the next three years completely rehabbing the entire place, guts out. The end result was a spectacular metamorphosis, the interior being almost unrecognizable in comparison to the home they had invested in not so long before. But, with hints of a family on the way, they set their sights slightly north of the city, to where they found an extremely quaint tudor-style home just around the corner from Xavier University.

After Dean had left to accompany his wife to an employee birthday party outside of the city, I spent the next few hours catching up with Brent and Chrissy, helping them prepare dinner, clean up the dining room and get to know their eight-month old baby girl, Eliana. Aside from seeing my old college friends, she was the main reason I had been trying to visit for the past few months, and everything about her made it worth the wait. She barely stopped laughing during my entire visit and seemed (unless I'm just feeling narcissistic and delusional) to take a strong liking to me whenever I was around. She laughed and pointed at me quite a bit, which could've very well been mocking in tone I wouldn't have been able to recognize due to my complete underexposure to the baby population on any sort of regular basis. I'm sure Brent would've pointed this out had he not been distracted with his multiple diaper duties.


The night quickly became a reunion that, although may be a regular occurrence for the Cinci group, was about four years over-due for me. Not long after I started helping Brent and Chrissy prepare dinner, we were joined by our college friends Brian & Sarah with their son Isaac, Adam & Becky with their daughter Riley, Jon & Meredith with their daughter Lola and Jon's cousin from Kent, and eventually Rob & Kendra. It was just like old times with one major difference; their house suddenly became the equivalence of a baby factory. There were kids everywhere. I have to be honest, I knew it was coming. Even so, it threw me a bit off guard. That's not to say I didn't love every second of it, because I did. It was just interesting for me to see all of my friends (whom most of which had been childless and only recently married the last time I had seen them) with all of these new additions. As a 30-year old single man, it was a unique and uncommon glimpse into a lifestyle that I'm sure I'll be sharing a few years down the line. Yup, I was that guy. It is comforting to be sure that when I actually do reach that point someday, I know I can rely on all of them for advice on getting me through it with my sanity intact. In the meantime, I'm perfectly happy with slipping back into and enjoy my old familiar way of life, if only for a while longer.


After a miserable Cavs loss (can I tell you how difficult it was to watch that premature end of the Eastern Conference Series without unleashing a constant stream of obsenities in the midst of the previously-described baby factory?) and a few late-night card games with the rest of the crew, everyone started to filter out of the house, leaving Brent, Chrissy and myself to finish with the rest of the cleanup. It was still fairly early, and although Dean hadn't been able to stop by due to freak tornado cluster in the area of the party they were attending, he did want to head out for a few drinks in the Mt. Lookout area. So, being unable to convince Brent out of his state of exhaustion to join me, I drove out to meet Dean at the Mt. Lookout Tavern, where we stayed until last call. It was a younger crowd there than I was used to (a staple venue amoung many students from both UC and Xavier) but we had a pretty good time and were able to catch up more thoroughly than we were able to earlier in the day. As the bars shut down, I said good-bye to Dean and took a sudden hit by my all-too-familiar Cincinnati vice; Skyline Chili.


It's been way too long since I've been there, at least to the venue that defined the after-bar menu item for me. Some people crave Taco Bell, others go for the White Castle sliders...I do Skyline Chili. My roommates and friends would hit the Clifton Skyline Chili parlor every single weekend to put the perfect cap on a night that would've otherwise been followed by coma-inducing hangovers and zombie-like lethargy. It was college, after all. And Skyline saved my life on multiple occasions. ...Not tonight, however. For whatever reason that only Loki himself would find humor in, Skyline was closed early. Outrage. The legend that had been open until 4:00am on Saturday nights, where joyful groups of drunken college students would order a plethora of 3-ways, coneys, and bowls of oyster crackers, sat in darkness, with a sad, 30-year old man, desperate to taste just a hint of his days in college, staring pathetically through the plate-glass windows framing the empty stools and all-too desolate kitchen. I know that sounds a bit dramatic, and I wrote it that way purposefully. Why? We've all been there. I was craving Skyline. Its locked doors nearly shattered my world. Funny how one can recover from such a tragedy after simply sleeping it off.

The next morning, I woke up and decided to run off the effects of the night before by going for a 4-mile jog around Xavier's campus. Would you like to know what biggest difference is between running in Cleveland and running in Cincinnati? The hills. Holy crap, those hills. Mile 3 felt like mile 8, but it made for a great workout, and Brent and Chrissy were nice enough to have breakfast nearly waiting for me when I got back to the house. We spent a little more time hanging out in the living room with Eliana before I said my goodbye's, packed up the car, and headed back up north towards Cleveland. I would've like to see a few more friends, maybe have lunch with my old boss Russ, and/or at least seen what new developments have been added to the University, but I'll have to save that for my next trip down, possibly in the fall during Homecoming. Although I'm quite confident that I won't be joining the ranks of parenthood by that time, it'll be exciting to see everyone again, and how much the kids have grown since this last visit. It's still sinking in that we've all gotten to that point, but I'm certain by then I'll be quite used to the idea. I couldn't see it any other way.

Road Trip Tuesday: The Antrim Coast of Northern Ireland

Ireland's Antrim Coast

Length: 75 mi / 120km (from Portrush to Belfast)

Time to Allow: 2-3 Hours minimum, but two days would be better so as to enjoy as much here as possible.

In lieu of St. Patrick's Day, I thought a the introduction of a small road trip around Ireland would be appropriate, specifically the Antrim Coast. Often described as the best drive in Ireland, the trek along Ireland's northern coast outdoes the rest of the isle for what it offers in its variety and stunning scenery. Along the way, you'll find a few coastal towns like Portrush and Ballycastle, the village of Bushmills, famous for its whiskey distillery, and spectacular landmarks such as the Giant's Causeway, the Carrick-a-Rede rope bridge, and the Glens of Antrim. I've never made this drive, but this is one that I would absolutely love to take. Since I'm not familiar with everything it has to offer, I'm borrowing some knowledge from a few other travel sites that describe this trip in detail.

From Portrush, you'll want to drive east along the A2 into Bushmills, immediately diving into the magnificent scenery straight from the get go. While visiting Bushmills, give yourself a bit of time to vist the Old Bushmills Distillery, widely-known as the first legal whiskey distillery in the world.

Upon leaving Bushmills, you'll want to continue east, following the signs for the Giant's Causeway, where you'll want to plan on spending as much time as you can allow. The Causeway is an area of about 40,000 interlocking hexagonal, basalt columns along the coast, a mysterious result of an ancient volcanic reaction. It was named in 2005 as the fourth greatest natural wonder of the United Kingdom, as the tops of the columns form giant stepping-like stones that lead off of the foot of the cliffs and disappear under the sea.

From the Causeway, keep heading east until you merge up again with the A2 towards Ballycastle. However, before you get to Ballycastle, take the B15 road which forks left into Ballintoy, where you'll continue through the town towards the tiny island of Carrick-a-Rede, which is joined to the mainland by a swaying rope bridge. As you continue over the island, the B15 joins back up with the A2 at Ballycastle, a quaint little harbor town to take a break for lunch, or possibly find an inn to bed down for the night. If you time your trip right, and you make it into Ballycastle on the last Monday and Tuesday of August, you'll be able to experience the "Oul' Lammas Fair," an annual celebration held by the townsfolk that celebrates ancient Pagan mythology and attracts people by the thousands from all over the world.

When you leave Ballycastle, continue to follow the A2 all the way along the east coast and into the Ferry Port of Larne, from where you can either go on into Belfast or return to Portrush, taking the more direct inland route by means of Ballymena. Along this stretch, however, is where you'll have a chance to explore the Glens of Antrim. You can divert inland to enjoy as many as time allows, but if you only have time for one, you'll want to find the Glenariff, otherwise known as Queen of the Glens. This U-shaped glen is much larger than the other eight, and boasts steep gorges and plenty of waterfalls, some of which wouldn't be accessible if it weren't for special pathways and bridges. To get there, just head south on the A43 at Waterfoot, just after passing through Cushendall. The drive is only six miles or so, but you'll witness some impressive scenery along the way before having a full chance to explore the Glen.

As you head the southeast along the remainder of the drive into Belfast, be sure to stop at a few of the other glens if you have time, and call ahead to request a place to stay in the city well in advance, as rooms and hostels can fill up quickly.

I have dreams of making this drive in the near future, hopefully in the next year or two. Personally, I also plan on making it over to the west coast of Ireland, and into the county of Mayo, where I'm still told I have family into the country out there. They're poor farm-folk, located literally in the middle of nowhere, but they're still family and I would love to meet them. Someday... Until then, Happy St. Patrick's Day, and be sure to wear your green with pride.

If you're interested in learning more about this trip, visit the following websites for maps and tripguides to help you along:

Suite101.com

Northern Ireland Discovered

Ireland - Wikipedia

Photo credits go to Mark Gordon and www.sxc.hu

Road Trip Tuesday: Exploring The North Shore

Lake Erie Coastal Ohio Trail
Length: 293 mi / 471.5 km
Time to Allow: 8 hours to drive the byway, 3-4 days to see it in its entirety

With this being the inaugeral entry into the Road Trip Tuesday section of the blog, I figured I'd start small and close to home, using Cleveland as a point of origin and branching out from there. We won't go far today, barely out of Ohio even, but for those in the area looking to take a weekend drive this summer, this could be a perfect option.

If you're familiar with the weather in Ohio, or even the midwest in general. the temperatures stay below 50 degrees for nine months of the year and it's rare to even see a blade of grass underneath the mountains of snow between Thanksgiving and the beginning of March. The areas between Cleveland and Buffalo (locally referred to as the "Snow Belt") especially get the brunt of this force, with northeast Ohio being one of two areas in the world affected by what we lovingly refer to as Lake Effect Snow, where condensation from the fresh-water Great Lakes is driven into the atmosphere and unleashed upon the northcoast shorelines as heavy, unforgiving blizzards of snow. However, when spring starts to roll in during late-March, everything changes and a once barren landscape is alive with an arrary of colorful flowers, green rolling hills and warm breezy days, enough to lift anyone's spirits.

Brutal, I know. However, the redeeming aspect of living here are the scenic beaches of Lake Erie, otherwise called Ohio's north shore, which offers the exploration of a variety of lighthouses, maritime museums, islands, rural landscapes and views of red "Chew Mail Pouch" barns that allow you to glimpse decades into the past, if not over a hundred years.

From Cleveland, Heading East
Starting from downtown, you have the option of jumping on I-90 east and traveling towards Willoughby directly along the eastside marinas and fishing harbors, or you can begin on US-20, just slightly east of downtown, following the newly renovated Euclid Avenue past the Museum of Art and University Circle, making your way though a few of the outlying small towns of eastern Cleveland, through Painesville and on along the coast past Conneaut and into Pennsylvania. Whichever way you choose, as you hug the shore of Lake Erie, a few small towns worth visiting for thier spirit and charm are Fairport Harbor, Madison, Ashtabula and Conneaut, most of which prominently display historic lighthouses and maritime museums, and the latter of the four featuring an old-fashioned amusement park that opens up directly into the shores of Lake Erie.

As you pass along Rte 20, be sure to keep an eye out for the various wineries spotting the area. It is actually proven that Northeastern Ohio grapes produce some of the best wine in the world. However, because of the cold weather patterns and brutal winters, the industry here is only able to survive on a limited basis. During the summer months though, there are plenty of wine tastings available, with guests from all over the world traveling to the area to participate in the tastings.

From Cleveland, Heading West
From downtown Cleveland, take the west-bound shoreway towards Edgewater park and hop on Rte 6 though Lakewood and the mansions of Lake Road. As you pass through Rocky River and Bay Village, the landscape opens up and soon you find yourself surrounded by oak and beech forests on your left, and the waters of Lake Erie on your right. Eventually you'll pass through Vermilion, a small but notable coastal town, known for it's history of visits from well-known captains of the Great Lakes and lush maritime lore, then onto Sandusky, Marblehead, the famous Marblehead Lighthouse and the historic Port Clinton, where, if you chose, you can drive your car onto the Ferries to Kelley's Island or the reputable Put-in-Bay Island for the night. Be sure to make reservations for accommodations in advance though, as rooms fill up extremely quickly.

Just as a side note, a few summers ago I explored Kelley's Island by bike and it was one of the best day trips I've ever taken. There is so much to explore here, that it's impossible to see it all entirely by car. If you get the opportunity, take it, and be sure to make your way over to the quarries, on the west end of the island. The landscape is eerie and radically different from anything you've seen in Ohio.

Also, while in Sandusky, don't forget to visit the world-famous Cedar Point Amusement Park, one of the best roller coaster amusement parks in the country. The Point boasts to hold some of the steepest and fastest roller coaster rides in the world. During the busy summer months, it's not unlikely to find the park filled to capacity and lines for a single ride to taking up to three hours long, but if you wait until the fall after school starts, the lines tend to die down and you can experience the park to its fullest. Throughout October, the entire place is made-over for Hallo-weekends, where the streets are crawling with monsters and zombies, the Thunder Canyon rafting ride is drained and filled with pine trees and fog to create Werewolf Canyon, and haunted houses scatter the grounds between the rumbling coasters throughout the park. Following Halloween, the Point shuts down and remains closed until the following May.

At this point, since Rte 6 drops south towards Fremont and away from the shore, if you want to continue west along the lake, you'll want to jump on Rte 2 towards Toldeo, where you can visit the Cedar Point National Wildlife Refuge and Maumee Bay State Park before crossing the Maumee River and heading north into Michigan.

If you're interested in learning more about this trip, visit the following websites for detailed maps and trip guides to help you along.
National Scenic Byways
Road Trip: USA

Photo credits go to: Lake Erie Coastal Ohio Inc., Leslie Dellovade, and Rona Proudfoot

Road Trip Tuesday!

Because the next month or two will only consist of a few minor day hikes and a possible weekend camping getaway, I'm making the effort to keep the content fresh and decided to create a weekly column called "Road Trip Tuesday."  Starting next week and each week thereafter, I'll introduce a new road trip that I may potentially take later on this year, and discuss all of the sights and stops each one offers along the way.  Some may be short, lasting only a few hours or less.  Others may be a bit longer, ranging into a 3 - 4 day drive across the states, and who knows?  There may also be the potential for an international drive, in case I may find myself overseas one of these summer months.

And, of course, if you guys have made any trips in the past that you'd suggest, feel free to post them in the comments section.  I've taken a lot of drives since I was first able to sit behind the wheel, but there are a lot of routes that I haven't taken.  I'm completely open to new ideas.

Check back for further updates!

Cincinnati in March

Friday after work I had plans to head down to Cincinnati for the weekend.  Although I had been traveling for about four weekends straight, I was looking forward to seeing a few friends down there that I haven't caught up with in a while.  

I was planning to arrive down there around 8:00pm, meeting a group of my old Fraternity brothers in Westchester on my way down.  This week was the annual Queen of Hearts ball, an event that regularly brings in alumni and their significant others from all over the country.  Although the formal was taking place on Saturday, all of the alumni were planning on meeting out for a few drinks Friday night, just to kick back, relax, and catch up with one another since a lot of us haven't seen each other in a few years at a time.  Personally, I haven't seen any of those guys in over six years, so it would've been a good reunion.

Following the late-night happy hour with the guys, I was then planning on driving a little farther south towards the city, to my friend Brent and his wife's home in Norwood.  They just had a baby girl about four months ago that I've been looking forward to seeing, so the rest of the weekend was set aside to hang out with them and their new baby girl Eliana.

Plans change.

For the past week my oil change light has been on, so I scheduled a quick appointment for Friday morning before I left.  All they were supposed to do was change the oil.  I love how this crap just snowballs.  Every. Single. Time.

I have a screw in my tire.  Easy fix, right?  They can just patch it up, throw a plug in there.  Yeah...wrong.   The screw was imbedded in the sidewall, so the stupid tire might as well have gone bald.  I've had it for six months...it  just figures.  So now I have to get a new tire on my car, for which they were asking $200.  Screw that.  Pun not intended.

So they threw on the donut spare, which I wouldn't be able to drive down to Cincinnati on, and every place that I called to get a new tire won't have the right one in stock until after the beginning of the week, and with that...my trip to Cincinnati became no more.   But, I talked to Brent later on Saturday and we thought that the end of March might be a better date.  Not only will it be warmer, but a lot of other friends should be in town that time, so hopefully it'll work out for everyone.

This was the second trip in a row that's been postponed, but it's probably all for the best.  Between Colorado and California, I spent a lot of money this past month and it'll be nice to use some recovery time.  Plus, this weekend was mostly spent catching up on some long-overdue projects like changing the locks around house and doing my taxes.   On the upside, at least I was able to see some in-town friends during the evenings that I was here.  Everything happens for a reason.

Rehoboth Church: POSTPONED!!

So due to the unfortunate knee injury of our trip guide, it looks like this weekend's trip down to West Virginia's Rehoboth Church Church Cave will be postponed for a few weeks.  I was talking to her last night and we're thinking sometime in the spring might be a bit more reasonable.   We don't know the extent of the injury yet, so I think any further plans will have to depend on what she finds out in the next few days.

In the meantime, I'm not totally opposed to taking a weekend and getting a few things in order at home.  I'll be able to make up a few hours over at Ski Patrol and there's some house cleaning to do, something I've been avoiding all winter.  It's getting to be that time though, so I might as well get started early.  Next weekend I'll be traveling down to Cincinnati though, mainly just to see a few old friends I've been out of touch with for a while.  In the meantime, I'll continue to post ideas and plans for other trips and adventures.  Until then...

From Sand to Snow

After a short breakfast of peanut butter toast and slices of pear, I loaded up Corey’s car and climbed into the passenger seat, as she started up the car and prepared to drive me back to the airport for my trip home. Not before, however, we decided to drive down to the beach (less than a mile from her apartment steps) and took one last long look at the sand and surf before I boarded my plane.

I passed through security with ease and soon found myself cramming into the tightest space of a seat I’ve ever traveled in. Sliding my computer under my seat, I put my head back and closed my eyes, not to open them again until we were a good hour-and-a-half into the flight. I believe we’re somewhere over Illinois now…in fact as I look out the window, I believe I can see the shoreline of Lake Michigan on the horizon, amidst the patches of field and snow that blanket the Plains. That means we have about an hour-and-a-half of the flight left, and that much closer to the exposure of 20+ degree weather and at least six inches of fresh snow. It’s hard to believe I was staring at palm trees this morning.

20 minutes left until my battery dies.

My dad is set to meet me at the airport when I land, where we’ll first grab a bite to eat, then head down to Medina to pick up Kino at Sarah’s house. At that point I’ll go home, and most likely to bed. Regardless of whether or not I can spend the rest of this flight sleeping, I’m sure going to need a lot more of it once I get back. If I had a hard enough time adjusting to west coast time, I can only imagine how rough it’s going to be to adjust back.

16 minutes left. On that note, I’m going to sign off and shut my eyes. Another trip has come and gone, but many more are in store for sure, possibly as soon as this coming weekend. Los Angeles was a great experience though, and for the first time, allowed me to feel as if I was really living the city unlike I had ever done before. Maybe it was because I was alone. Maybe it was because things are different now. Either way, it opened my eyes, and I’m more eager to see and travel and experience as much as I possibly can, more than I ever had before. I may not be back to California for awhile, but I know I’ll always welcome it if I do return. Between now and then though, the travels have only just begun.

The Viper Room

About a week ago, Corey called me up while I was at work and told me that she had big plans for us on Saturday night. A few minutes later, she sent me a link to the website for the Viper room with a page-full advertisement of The Pussycat Dolls’ burlesque act on February 14th. She had gotten us tickets, stating confidently that there was no better way to spend Valentine’s Day in LA. She couldn’t have been more right.

Heading up to Sunset Boulevard, we found a nice little place called Isla to sit down, eat dinner and have a few drinks before the show. The food was excellent, with Corey ordering a vegetable fajita and myself enjoying a lime-marinated chicken breast with Spanish rice and an assortment of grilled vegetables. Following dinner we walked across the street to the lower entrance of the Viper Room, where we spent some time hanging out in a small little lounge while we waited for the show to begin upstairs.

Around 10:00, they opened up the stage room, which is actually a lot smaller than either one of us had expected, and we took our positions just to the right of the main catwalk that extended from the stage. Within minutes, one of the girls climbed up on a trapeze swing that hung from the ceiling on the other side of the stage where she actually stayed for the majority of the night. Men in sailor outfits started filtering into the crowd and after a fairly long jaunt of another dancer inviting members of the audience up on stage, lights erupted from behind the curtain, and the wall screamed “Pussycat Dolls” in full pink neon.

They sang, they danced. They splashed around in over-sized martini glasses and bear-claw tubs in only the way that true women of burlesque can. Corey was right; this was the only way to spend Valentine’s Day in LA and I was having a blast.

The show ended around 1, and after talking to a few of the girls from the show, we left the Viper Room and its legends behind and headed home, signaling the close of the last night of my vacation in Los Angeles. I’m not sure when I’ll see Hollywood again, but I can’t help but think that at least I’m able to leave with some of the better memories I’ve collected from this town. With the company of some of my oldest friends, and one of the more memorable Saturday nights I’ve had in recent memory, everything about this vacation defined mental health. It might actually be difficult to head home.

Griffith Park

Functioning on a little more than four hours sleep because of my body’s refusal to still adjust to the Pacific Time Zone, I woke up fairly early in the morning and made myself breakfast. Not long after, Corey rolled herself off the couch and we sat down to plan out our day over some peanut butter toast and Earl Grey tea. We both knew that we wanted to go hiking, but we couldn’t decide whether we wanted to hit the more rugged Santa Monica mountains, or the all-encompassing view of Griffith Park. Almost immediately we decided on Griffith Park due to easy access to the Observatory and the ease of getting there.

Two hours later we parked her car on the hill and started up towards the Observatory. I’ve seen plenty of photos, but I’ve never been there, so we went inside and took a good look around the first floor of exhibits. One of the most interesting pieces to me was the Tesla Coil, which was unfortunately not in working condition at the moment. For those that don’t know what the Tesla Coil is, it’s a wireless converter of low wattage currents into high voltage electricity constructed by Nicoli Tesla in the late 19th century. Although it’s practical use was never used outside of his lab, today’s high voltage wire systems and grids still use aspect of this concept across the globe. Tesla was an innovator and an engineering genius, and I find his work completely fascinating.

The Observatory started to get crowded, so we left the main building and stocked with fruit, raisins and a few bottles of water, we headed up the steep incline to the peak of Griffith Park. It was about an hour walk in each direction, mainly because we took our time exploring the side paths and bouldering opportunities. The land up here is still somewhat scorched from the fires a few years back, but there is a lot of new growth forming, and the mountain, although speckled with burnt shrubbery and gnarled wood, is once again turning green again.

From the summit you can view practically all of Los Angeles, from the eastern mountain ranges to the Pacific Ocean, and everything in between. Downtown is clearly visible, as is West Hollywood, Santa Monica, San Fernando, Anaheim, The Valley to the north and even El Segundo and Redondo Beach to the south. On a clear, smog-light day, it’s said that you can even see San Diego. I wouldn’t doubt it.

Following a few snacks and some re-hydration time on the summit, we headed back down the hill towards the car, loaded up our stuff and headed into downtown LA to see Frank Gehry’s Walt Disney Concert Hall. Gehry buildings fascinate me and they’re an excellent outlet for abstract photography, so I didn’t waste any time snapping as many shots of the angles and curves of its outer shell as possible. What’s interesting about this particular structure is that you can actually weave your way through the building while never actually going inside. Along the way are hidden terraces and secret gardens, all built within the outside shell. It was beautiful.

We had big plans later that evening, so as dusk began to set in, Corey and I headed back to El Segundo so that we’d have enough time to change and get something to eat before setting off to West Hollywood.

More to Come...

The past 36 hours or so have been a whirlwind and there's so much to talk about, but it's been tough to update because my computer is currently unable to connect to the internet. That may change once I get to the airport, and further updates describing our outing in Hollywood will most definitely come later on this evening.

For now though, I'll leave you with this: West Hollywood, The Viper Room, and the Pussy Cat Dolls Lounge. It was a hell of a way to spend February 14th.

What to Do in LA When It's Raining

After filming the "Sticky Floor Friday" segment with Steve, I originally had plans of heading down to Newport Beach and visiting with my friend Brad. He and his wife Leslie just had twins about a year or so ago, so it would've been great to see him. Unfortunately, we weren't able to get ahold of each other, so as the morning slipped away, Steve and I tried to figure out what to do.

I suggested a hike around Runyan canyon, a neat little series of trails nestled next to Muholland Drive in the hills where a lot of people go to run and let their dogs loose through the park. I packed up my bag, opened the door to find a near torrential downpour coming down on top of us. Our hiking plans defeated, I looked at Steve, and we both said two words unanimously.

"Rock Band."

So this is what people do in LA when it rains. They play Rock Band. For hours. And oh, we did. Opting to chow down on a bit of Mexican food first in order to build up some energy for the game. Upon our return, we jammed, Steve on drums, me on guitar. Eddie Van Halen would've been envious.

I left Steve's around five and battled my way south on the 405 through LA traffic and the sheer madness of Friday rush hour. Slipping off the freeway at Sunset, I weaved my way down along the coast, passing once again through Santa Monica, Marina Del Ray, then finally into El Segundo where it would've been nice to rest for a bit before picking up Corey at the airport. She was supposed to get back into town at 8:30 at night, but because of the crash of the Continental Airline out of Newark, things took a turn. Still in Newark, her flight into Charlotte was inevitably delayed, so she was able to hop on a direct flight straight into LA, putting her into town well after midnight.

I had a bit of time still, so I called a college buddy of mine in Marina Del Ray and made plans to meet him and his wife Push for dinner at a seafood place right in the marina called Shanghai Red. I had never met Push before, but had seen plenty of photos from their wedding and various Halloween parties, so it was fun to finally meet her and reunite with Andy after all of these years. After we dinner we stopped for a beer around the corner from their apartment, following which I headed back towards the airport to pick up Corey. Exhausted and in much need of a drink, we met a few of her friends in downtown El Segundo, who ended up coming back to her apartment for a short late-night party. It was short-lived however, and I soon found myself fast asleep, failing miserable at the attempt to aclimate myself to west coast time. In the morning we would go hiking for the day, and I needed my energy.

Sticky Floor Friday

A few times a week, Steve updates his entertainment editorial site, Nerd With Words.  And every Friday he posts a video segment he likes to call, "Sticky Floor Friday," a quick discussion/critique of new films being released into theaters that week.  Usually he does this solo.  Today was different.  

Introducing, The Remake: It's the same, but only better.

Ah, Traffic: LA's Brain-stabbing Charm

As promised, I left Corey's this morning and headed straight up the coast, making quick stops in Marina Del Ray, Venice and Santa Monica, just to look around and explore the area. The coast is within sight, although the cold breeze and frigid waters weren't attracting many crowds along the beach. In fact, they looked rather sparse. To its defense though, it was a Thursday morning when I was passing through this area, and I would imagine most people are at work by now. I didn't mind though, as it was more room for me to stretch my legs.

Not long ago, I was asked to consider moving to LA, something I was extremely hesitant about, mainly because there are so many other places I would rather live; Portland, Denver and San Francisco topping that list. However, these areas were different. I actually really like it down here and I could've seen myself enjoying the area. It's a chill, beach-vibe where obviously people work hard to maintain their existence in the area, but life isn't taken too seriously and everyone sort of just wants to enjoy the day. It's a far cry from the land-locked LA that I've mainly been exposed to up until now. Down here along the coast, it's just...cool.

Upon arriving in Santa Monica, I walked up and down the pier alone for the first time since I'd first visited LA, constantly allowing the sights and sounds to trigger old memories from the last time I was there. I had a photo taken of me then, as well as the time before that, both in the same corner of the pier with the hills above Malibu far in the distance. Just adjacent to that corner, a seagull overhead had unloaded a huge, white glob of shit all down the front of my shirt. I laughed then, and checking overhead for any stealthy feathered bombers (there were none close enough to be a threat) I laughed again at the thought of the incident repeating itself. Passing up a third photo op of myself in that corner, I headed back towards the car and hopped on Santa Monica Avenue towards Hollywood.

1:18pm - Santa Monica. 1:52pm - Beverly Hills. 2:35pm - West Hollywood. 2:58pm - Paramount Studios. 3:15pm - Rudy's Barbershop in East Hollywood. Total driving distance? 9.8 miles. Now I remember why I didn't want to move to LA.

When I was in LA two years ago, I got my hair cut at this place called Rudy's, just down the street from my cousin's place. It's got a hipster vibe to it, being located in an old car garage and covered with magazine cut-outs and cool ad designs from the ceiling to the floor. With my shag getting a bit out of control, I figured that it was finally time to do something about it and what better place to have it done? It just seemed to make sense. So, I walked it and was immediately paired up with a guy named Keith that had, within the span of 40 minutes, turned my rag hag head into a closely cropped textured cut that I hadn't seen on myself since before June. Following the chop, I headed over to my cousin Kim's place where I hung out with her husband Myke for a while before we went around the corner to dinner at a place called The Alcove. I've been there before and their sandwiches are phenomenal, so I jumped at the chance to go. After dinner, I said my goodbye's to Myke and bowled through traffic once again in order to get to my old friend Steve's place in Studio City.

Almost immediately upon my arrival, Steve had to leave for a roller hockey game, which I was more than happy to attend when he asked if I wanted to come. Sure, I could've used the rest, but what fun would that have been? Steve's been playing since we were kids and at one point in our lives tried to get me into it as well. I failed miserably and he decided at that point to continue concentrating on his own efforts instead of helping me sort through mine.

The game was fun and Steve's team won, giving us more of a reason to celebrate when we got back to his place. Waiting for us was his girlfriend Stephanie, and after Steve got a chance to shower, the three of us headed down the block to a place called the Fox and Hounds, a neat little English Pub that soon became filled with the amplified sounds of aucoustic guitars and folk-like vocals. Over the next few hours we downed our beers and enjoyed the atmosphere, only deciding to head back after the band had stopped playing and the tables had started clearing out.

I'm now ready for bed and about to get some much needed rest, knowing full well that tomorrow is about to be another very long and busy day. I'm hoping to head down to Newport Beach fairly early, but judging from today's traffic, getting from here to El Segundo is going to be hard enough. And suddenly I realize, I'm way too tired to even think about it.

El Segundo

Catching up on some things at home, I feel as if the day is already wasting away, so I'm going to keep this entry short and save the photo uploads for later on tonight, to give me the opportunity to get in all the things I want to do for the remainder of the day.

I landed safely last night at about 8:00 and met my friend Corey at the airport. She lives in El Segundo, just about ten minutes south of LAX, so it was extremely convienient for the both of us. She's out of town for most of the time I'm here, so she recently offered me her car and a place to crash to save me the expenses of renting a car and dealing with all of that hassle. Upon leaving the airport, we made it back to her apartment, where she had a huge pot of vegan lentil soup waiting, filling the apartment with an aroma that made me realize that the small ham sandwich i had on the plane wasn't quite enough to cut it for the rest of the night. We chowed down on the soup and some salad we both prepared and hung out around the area the rest of the night, catching up on old times and figuring out all of the things that I can do here for the rest of the trip.

Corey has a job interview in New Jersey for the next few days, so I dropped her off at the airport just about two hours ago, and came back here, taking the opportunity to catch up on email and some missed phone calls before I head out. I'm going to walk on the beach for a bit, then head up to the Hollywood area where I'm going to meet up with my cousin's husband at his recording studio, then over to Studio City to meet Mr. Steve and his girlfriend Stephanie. We talked about heading out around his area tonight, so it seems as if I'm going to be crashing up in that area of town. There might be a bonus addition to the blog from that visit, with it being the eve of Friday and all, so check back tomorrow for any further updates.

On that note, it's 11:00 and I need to bolt. Sand and surf await, even if it is colder here than it is in Cleveland. ...figures.

There's One Hour Left in the Flight...

There’s an hour left in the flight.

No longer able to stare out the window at the ever-changing landscape of cumulous and cirrus cloud formations, I turn to my laptop, desperate for a bit of music and the gothic ambiance of The Cure that might drown out the screaming child four rows behind me. …It’s not working.

The sky is dark now, and only a few spotted lights of small, rural American towns are visible in-between the porous pockets among the clouds below me. I find myself wishing that I were actually passing through them, and not above them, to explore their diners and their traditions as I traverse westward along lost roads towards the Pacific. I’ve done it before, and I’ll do it again, and hopefully a bit sooner rather than later. The lights have disappeared behind the darkening clouds of dusk now, and the window becomes pitch. There’s an hour left to the flight, and although my eyes are heavy from the drone of the engines and the lack of sleep I obtained last night, I’m getting restless. So, I write.

Six and a half hours ago, I grabbed my pack and suitcase and walked six blocks from my office towards Tower City Center, where I would board the RTA train straight into Cleveland Hopkins Airport. It was a 30-minute straight shot on the Red Line, for those that have never taken it, offering passage through the dismal and rusted landscape of Cleveland, Ohio. The ride is speckled with gutted buildings and boarded up windows, a sad glimpse into what used to be an extremely strong industrial Mecca…a time that has long passed, and one we may never see again. There are beautiful, breath-taking parts to Cleveland. The Red Line avoided each and every one of them.

Another break in the clouds and I see lights! An enormous city in the midst of nothing. For a second I hope that it’s Phoenix and I look for Shaw Butte, the mountain that my uncle’s house sits at the base of. Then I realize I’m looking at Vegas. My enthusiasm drops exponentially. Back to work.

Back at the airport, I check in relatively quickly and make it through security with no problem. They didn’t search me or strip me down to my skivvies like they did in Cincinnati, nor did they pigeonhole me as a terrorist because of my darkening beard. No, this time they let me pass without question. However, I did see the man that gave us all the hassle about Lisa’s luggage only two weeks ago and charged her $100 for checking a snowboard bag…because she padded it with clothes. (It should’ve only have been $15, like the rest of us had paid) He was wearing a red vest this time, an obvious compliment to his superiority complex, separating him from the rest of his peon agents that sadly have to report their duties to him. I contemplate running up and kicking him in his shin. Images of handcuffs and the prospect of cavity searches fill my brain. I move on.

While waiting for the call for boarding, I pass the time holding conversation and small talk with a woman sitting next to me in the terminal. She’s going to law school and is going out to LA for business. I tell her I’m out there visiting friends, when I get the call from Sarah that Kino is alive and well, riding comfortably in her car towards Medina where he’ll stay for the rest of the week until I return. She claims they’re best friends now and I smile, knowing full well that he’ll trust anyone that offers him a ride in their car. Just as I get off the phone, they call for my row and I wish Law-school woman (who’s name I never got) a safe flight and I board the plane.

Five hours, a ham sandwich, two glasses of tomato juice and a miserable game of computer chess later, the captain announces that we’re starting our descent. Thirty minutes left in the air and I’m anxious to stretch my legs. My ears are popping and I think the man next to me just farted. I hope he’s not reading this as I type.

Going to California...

With a little bit of help from Kino, I've gotten everything packed, and I'm pretty much set to go. Chris has the house in order, Sarah's picking up Kino after work and bringing him down to her place in Medina where he'll spend the week in the company of her other dogs (and a cat...which should prove interesting), and I've brought all my stuff into work so that I don't have to worry about getting a ride into the airport. So in about six hours, I'll be heading on a train from Downtown Cleveland to Hopkin's International Airport, where I'll board a direct flight at 5:15, arriving straight into Los Angeles, California around 7:30.

This is a mental health trip, and I feel like I need it. I'm going to see some friends that I don't get to hang out with often enough, hopefully see a college buddy's year-old twins, drive up the coast a bit, do some hiking, and just relax. I don't have a schedule. I don't have an itinerary. Aside from what looks to be a fun night in Hollywood on Saturday, nothing's really planned and I just want to keep it that way. The goal is to come home from a vacation where I'm actually more relaxed than I was when I left.

For everyone asking, no...I'm not going to see Stephanie. It was hard, but I thought it best that we kept our distance for awhile, so as not to confuse things. She agreed and we're going to spend this next week apart, doing our own separate things. Maybe we'll see each other in a few months when she comes back to visit for the holidays, but for the time being, ...well, it'll just be easier this way on both of us.

Some certain Zeppelin lyrics come to mind as I go...and in all honesty, it really isnt quite as hard as it seems.

Ohio Snow

Last night, at about 11:25 eastern time, we landed in Cleveland, about 20 minutes earlier than expected. Although the beginning of the trip showed signs of long delays, we made all of our connections, and arrived back in Ohio safe and sound. That however, did not make the trip feel any shorter. It was a long, long day.

We woke up in the morning, packed our things, and met the shuttle in front of our lodge at about 10:45am. Contrary to our previous ride up to Breck, we were now traveling back through the Rockies in broad daylight, allowing for what may have been one of the more informative, entertaining rides I've taken in a long time. This guy knew everything. He pointed out how to spot mines in the canyons around us, and how to tell each between a gold mine and a silver mine. He gave us a thorough history of the towns we passed through, and the surrounding peaks that towered over us as we wound our way down the hill. Dog sledding, big-horned mountain sheep, Clive Cussler and plate techtonics were just a few of the other subjects covered. Two hours flew by like nothing.

Upon arriving at the airport, we immediately found out that our flight was delayed 45 minutes. Which, soon after turned into 90, then 110. No matter, we had a delay in Chicago that was over three hours, so we sat around Denver's airport for the next three hours (we were fairly early to begin with), ate some food and enjoyed the fateful procrastonation of actually making it out of the state of Colorado. (pronounced 'Call-a-rad-duh' by the natives...interesting tidbit) As we were getting on the plane, the Superbowl started. When we landed, there were five minutes left in the game.

Every year I go to one Superbowl party or another, watching the game with friends, having a few beers and enjoying pot-luck food that is in no way shape or form, healthy for you. To be honest, a lot of those parties run together. This year was memorable.

Garrett, Lisa, Claire and I were gathered in Chicago's airport, eyes glued to the television set at the gate, watching the game's last five minutes on the clock, which as far as I know, could've been the most exciting. Here were are, with at least 30 strangers, blatently ignoring the flight attendent's pleas to board the plane as the timer counted down. Pittsburgh scored. Cheers were heard. Yells of disapproval echoed through the cooridor. Six minutes left in boarding time. Arizona fumbles. Some guy at another gate screams "FUCK!" at the top of his lungs. Fifteen seconds left of game time. The Steelers win. ...I'm the last one on the plane, and the gates are shut behind me.

An hour and a half later, we landed in Cleveland. The first thing I thought when I walked outside was how different the snow is here as compared to Breckenridge. It was clean there. White. Fluffy. People didn't mind snow on the sidewalks. Here it's dirty. Hard. Stained with salt and grit. I laughed at the irony of being home.

We're all safe now, home and settled back into our daily lives, and I'm about to head into work. Reality begins again, but it was a fantastic break. And soon, the travels will begin once more.

Until then.