There’s a semi-secret primitive camping site that isn’t well known in Anza Borrego and those that use it are typically well behaved seasoned campers out to enjoy a relaxing time under a pristine evening sky. Last night we caught a break and had the entire campgrounds to ourselves. Luckily for us not everybody had MLK day off. With no fear of bothering anyone (we’re very considerate towards our fellow campers) we turned up the music, set up our tents, and fired up the grill. Once we were settled in I took some time to venture away from camp to grab myself a refreshing bottled water shower on a large flat rock overlooking the encroaching sunset. If you ever go camping I highly suggest you follow suit. Trust me, you’ll thank me later.
Cleaned and refreshed, I wandered back into camp and found a few empty beer bottles already littering the camp site, and Ron sprawled out on the ground peering through the telescope of his powerful spring powered air rifle loaded with pellets taking aim at our sole plastic bottle of ketchup, which I thought we were going to use for dinner. I swear I heard him softly mutter something about “death before dishonor” while slowly squeezing the trigger and fatally gutting the tasty condiment.
Stocked up with a cache of Monster I was ready to hit the road
It was when our driver began to throw back a few road beers that I knew this trip might at any moment go completely sideways. There was no turning back now...
My first order of business was to set up my tent...
Well armed, Ron takes aim at our only roll of toilet paper
The sun slowly sets behind our camp
When it was time to start the fire, it quickly became obvious that Paul was never a Boy Scout.
Camp fire and wine bottles
Two of the wine bottles Ron managed to knock back. After downing them he claimed to still be thirsty. Animal!
Tent? Check.
Sleeping bag? Check.
Air mattress? Check.
Bottled water? Check.
Flask of Jack Daniels Whiskey? Double check.
The jeep is packed with the necessary essentials for a night of desert indulgence and questionable personal habits. Deep in the middle of the Anza Borrego desert, completely sheltered from glaring city lights, where one feels so small against the grand scale of the universe, we’ll light a small fire, cook some steaks, and feel absolutely overwhelmed and insignificant beneath the incredible vastness of time and space.
It’s amazing how absolutely beautiful and intimidating the night sky can be when you’ve spent nearly your entire night life drowning in lights. When one is raised beneath a curtain of light pollution canceling out the stars one can’t help but feel a certain sense of awe standing under a completely unobstructed nighttime sky, with the Milky Way stretching across the heavens and shooting stars streaking towards the distant horizon. It’s a wonderment bordering on a sort of reverence.
Of course, it could all just be the whiskey talking here….
I’m sitting here at home after an amazing Christmas dinner with the folks and friends. My wife, her brother, and I came back to our house after dinner where we’re currently watching a blu-ray copy of Wanted. I’ve just downloaded The Wipers albums Is This Real and Over The Edge, and am now listening to their song “No Solution”, watching a Blu-ray, drinking a B-52, and furiously typing away at this blog entry. Man, if I wasn’t riding the high of receiving my number one gift request of a Locke action figure (Thanks Karin!) I certainly wouldn’t be putting this post together, but rather digging in to the red velvet cake the brother-in-law gave us 
I hope everyone had a joyous Christmas! I know I did…
Wine in the manger
Out of frame is the detritus of shrimp tails and Wisconsin cheese curds
At some point the dictionary came out. I'm still not sure why...
Two things that Gerber does well: Produce baby food and manufacture knives.
It’s the morning after thanksgiving, and I’m awoken at the crack of 10am to the sound of Christmas music, rustling paper, and the shuffling of boxes. Thinking that I must be hearing things I roll over and turn on the DVD and flat screen and begin watching an episode of Land Of The Lost. Just when Marshall, Will, and Holly are about to figure out why gravity is acting all wonky I hear it again. This time the sound of boxes and paper is accompanied by the unmistakable tinkering, delicate bell-like echoings of…Christmas decorations?
I spring out of my bed to see what was the matter, and what to my wondering eyes should appear? It’s the wife, and she’s already decked the house out for Christmas. The hand rail to the stairs are wrapped with fake evergreen needles, various green and red accents are strategically placed carefully about the house, the fireplace is trimmed with garlands, and the fiber optic tree is up with presents already waiting patiently beneath.
Is it too soon for Christmas?
…and how many of those presents are mine? 
