Estrella

My mom lives in Estrella Mountain Ranch. The development is named after the mountain range to which it abuts. With talk of her moving, it was decided that another regret would be added to the list if I didn't hike in the designated wilderness area of the Estrellas. So I convinced my canyoneering buddy Mike to leave the wetsuit and ropes at home and we'd do some old fashioned hiking - about 3 miles one-way and 2500' elevation gain up to aptly named Quartz Peak. Here you go:



































The ridge heading Southeast.






And Northwest










Towering over South Mountain. Looking towards the Phoenix Valley.











So the question arose, "Where should I go to now?"

A swell guy.

I was going through my collection of books today. I reached the subset - the how to fix god-damn-near-everything section (next to the recipe for Helluva' good horseradish)- and had a look at Audels New Automobile Guide for Mechanics, Operators and Servicemen, by Frank D. Graham, published in 1940. It originally belonged to Private Wilbur E. Wolfe, a relative in the paternal grandmother's line. So I opened it up and found this:





Here's what was on the other side. Unfortunately, the pencil has worn off too much to understand the writing.

The Precautionary Principle

I worked a load in tonight at the Biltmore Resort. The gig was for, I believe, something to do with Budweiser. It is possible that it may have something to do with Superricockuloushawk McCain. You see, he is married to Cindy Hensley. Her father, Jim Hensley, is the owner of the 3rd largest Anheuser-Busch distributor in the US. My coworker at the gig, an ATV-driving, gun-shooting, seriously serious about being safe at work person, says that he has nothing against marijuana. But that making it legal would reduce the consumption of beer. That is true, as marijuana is a vasodilator, inducing the "Spins" to the wary party-goer whose decision-making process has been altered from imbibing too much. Too much. I tell you, it wasn't the marijuana that led to that girl's pregnancy test being positive in that anti-pot commercial. But I digress.

So I went and filled up the tank after work. As I leaned against the truck, another car pulled up. The driver exited, and with him his dog. The dog immediately walked into the small convenience store between pumps and proceeded to micturate on the first possible target, which just happened to be the bags of sunflower seeds. So, I just think that, in general, it might behoove the general consumer to abstain from buying products off of the bottom shelf. That is all.

Arroyo

Remember, these colors don't run. Even if you're a pirate, these colors DON'T RUN.






Back into the canyons. This one near Tortilla Flat. Short and sweet, but with incredible house-sized boulders to route-find through. it reminded me a lot of Devil's Den from the Gettysburg Battlefields, although resized for adult enjoyment.









The other excitement was rigging In-the-Round at the US Airways Center for none other than George Strait. I was really looking forward to hearing "Ex's" (as I fondly refer to it). Alas, it was played mid-set, so the yearning will go unsatiated.





Blue Man Group next week. If I'm still around, I get The Who and Bob Seger to rig on consecutive nights.