Well, it was nice while it lasted.

As is the case with most things in my life that I seem to really enjoy, this was, ostensibly no different, in the fact that it had to come to an end.  For years, I had hiked and climbed Old Rag Mountain pretty much at least once or twice a year, for the last eight or nine years; even the fact that I had moved to Georgia didn’t stop me from making trips up to Virginia to make time to climb my favorite trail.

Now I can’t say that I couldn’t see this coming, because it was pretty evident that it was already on its way, but with this last trip in the books, it’s pretty much a forlorn conclusion that Old Rag is pretty much intolerable these days, and that I’m going to have to start looking elsewhere to get my nature fixes.  It’s such a shame too, because for years, an alternative has been searched for, only to be disappointed and pining for what Old Rag had to offer instead.

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Steak Prevails

Spoiler from Wrestlemania: Shawn Michaels does not get the steak.

I’m trying to bury the vitriol of real life, and send my mind back to a place where I had fun – this past weekend.

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Photos: Steak vs. Career Weekend

It does feel like it’s been a while since I last took my camera anywhere, doesn’t it?  I guess being the on-and-off employed hermit that I am these days, I’m not afforded such photographic luxuries lately.

Anyway, this past weekend was the yearly tradition that has known no boundaries – Wrestlemania.  The weekend itself was not too shabby, despite many factors that tried to make it so, but in the company of good friends and family, fun prevails.  As time permits, I’ll likely delve into the stories behind the photographs, but for time being, here are the photos from my weekend.  Which was good, but man, I have to admit that everything before my trip, and certainly on the tail end of things has me really hating life right about now.

Okay, is this normal?

I hate to post again so soon after brogging already, but hey, this is the crap why I started brogging in the first place; to share my pointless, menial thoughts with the rest of the world.

So I’m still sitting here at Chic-Fil-A, and I’m looking around, and the place is pretty well occupied, by the same kind of people like me; people sitting by themselves, burning time in other ways than just eating.  People reading the paper, some solitary people speaking with other solitary people, from their own respective tables.  A few sparse couples, trying to enjoy a relaxing morning with some comfort breakfast, but for the most part, a whole lot of aimless, directionless people, just hanging out at Chic-Fil-A.

Now me, at least I have an excuse; I’m grounded to this plaza until I get my car back, in which then I will GTFO and continue on with the rest of my day, but for the time being, I’m left to wonder, is this seriously how many Americans spend their weekday mornings, when they’re obviously not employed?

One of these days . . .

WOULD YOU EAT THIS FOR FULL HEALTH?  Because nothing says rejuvenation like a steaming plate of chicken found underneath a waste receptacle, not to mention, defying the laws of physics to not be flat as a pancake.

This will go on the growing list of “to-do” projects, such as finishing up my 2009 Nanowrimo story, among other things, but one of these days, I’d love to take a stab at sprite-editing, and hacking up a ROM of Final Fight.

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