Happy Thursday

Some days you just have to take an extra hour at lunch and go for a snowmachine ride. It’s good for the inner spirit. During the last couple of weeks, I developed a mild case of poopy pants, also known as the full-time job blues. The culprit was back to back cases, one criminal (rape) and the other civil (personal injury), both with excessive last minute filings and extensive jury instructions. Add to that the standard 20 extra hours of firefighting per week (ventilation, ladders, hose), my dover out of town, and you’ve got the recipe for poopy pants.

My mystic path to cosmic power techniques were under maximum strain.

So on Tuesday the civil case settled, and things are shining bright again. By today work was all caught up, and the sky was blue, so I took that extra hour to celebrate. Thanks to the Easter Sunday blizzard and consistently cool weather, the snow is perfect. Anyway, long story short, no more poopy-pantitis! Tundra + ptarmigan + new snow + distant mountains + blue sky + not being at work = pure health and fitness. And Genevieve and little Revel Finn Wilco are back from Hooper Bay, so life is good! And next week I get to travel with Genevieve and RFW to Chevak on Monday. We’ll fly right over the mud volcanoes, which have the world's highest concentration of gyrfalcons. (They eat the ptarmigans.)

Tonight we went skiing after work. We didn't get too far, as we were afraid of getting shot. In addition to gyrfalcons, humans also enjoy eating ptarmigans. We were skiing amongst many ptarmigans, and quickly realized we were in the danger zone. Armed men on snow machines can be disconcerting. The folks out here probably wouldn't Cheney us, but you never know. That last link is hilarious, if you've got a minute.

Genevieve actually cooked up some tasty ptarmigan last weekend, courtesy of the mighty hunter Quya.

And as I type, we're listening to Judge Ashman’s radio hour. He’s a pro tem judge and he plays classic blues from 8-10 pm Thursday nights. Down in the boondocks. Poppa was a rolling stone. Etc. High quality stuff.

In other exciting news, we have been challenged to a duel by Jake Neal, the Man of the Northwest. He has challenged us to give up sweets; he’ll give up alcohol. The details remain to be worked out, but I don’t like our odds. Anyway, in anticipation of the start of the duel, I’ve been madly consuming our chocolate stash.

And in even more exciting news Matty Cook has added the perfect complement to his stellar bachelor pad… a chicken named Racecardriver.