When the wife and kids go on vacation, the bachelorized men may drink, smoke, avoid laundry, watch TV, have barbecues, and eat take-out. They may also often feel bored, aimless, and lonely.

I swear I’m not making this up. It says so right here. Yeah, I know... I can’t believe it, either.

[Update 11:47pm 14 Aug 2006: Broken link fixed.]

Canadians make funny signs:

We performed our fantasy football league’s double-blind draft order picking the other day. Out of 10 teams in the league, I pick last. Yippee.

We even shot video (3 minutes, 3.33MB, wmv) so that we could show that it was all on the up-and-up.

I promise not to turn this blog in to a “Why my fantasy football team stinks this year” blog. No, I wouldn't do that to my (now 3!) readers.

This year, it’ll be a “Why my fantasy football team crushes everyone else who thinks they can beat me” blog. Yeah, that’s what it’ll be.

I had someone give me some pucky over my admission that I have, in fact, seen an episode or two of Gilmore Girls. Apparently GG is a ‘girl’ show, and, as a guy, I should either pooh-pooh it or pretend I don’t know about it.

Here and now, I publicly state the following:

• I have seen the show.
• There were times I enjoyed the show.

I can admit this because I’m secure in my manhood. Sensitive, but manly. Rugged and manly, yet sensitive. Strong, rugged, manly, sensitive... and secure. I’m a veritable wellspring of strongly rugged sensitive manliness. Eat that.

I’m not a writer (as you can tell, I’m sure), but I can tell that a good script makes a TV show work. Actors’ abilities can only take a lame story so far. For a TV serial, you need a good story, a decent arc, and smart lines here and there. Characters with whom you can identify come out of good scripts.

The TV shows that I tend to like most are those with witty lines and real (often sarcastic) characters. The better of these, though, are the throw-away lines spoken quickly and semi-randomly. And these lines aren’t belabored--you have be paying attention in order to hear it. Someone says it; it’s funny; they move on.

Shows I know and like that do this: Scrubs; House; West Wing; Gilmore Girls; Sports Night; M*A*S*H (note: only one ‘girl’ show on this list). And now I add Firefly.

Some other TV shows try to do the one-liners (the Laws & Orders; the CSIs; Without a Trace), but their lines usually fall flat to me. Maybe the writer is working too hard at trying to be memorable, pithy, or ironic. I’m not saying I could do better than these; in fact, I’m pretty sure I couldn’t. But that doesn’t mean I have to like lameness.

But this wasn’t supposed to be about trashing poorly written TV shows. It’s about rejoicing in, and enjoying, good scripts, whatever the target audience. And that I’m manly.

Update 1:22pm: Another good show: The Tick (animated) (I have no opinion on the live action show.)

I have been sitting here at my computer for a bit, just kinda staring at the monitor.

And now Todd is thinking, “But I see you ‘just staring’ at your monitor all day long.” Touché. But this is different. Something is off, and I can’t quite put my finger on it. And this has been going on for more than a couple of weeks.

And I’ve been beginning a lot of sentences with conjunctions.

The best way I can describe this... thing... is the word ‘restless.’ I’ve been feeling this at work, with friends, and in just about everything else I’ve done recently. There’s this nagging feeling that I should be doing something more, something better, something right, or just plain something else.

Although it’s quite possible that I’m nearing mid-life for members of my family, I’m not going through a mid-life crisis. My proof: My haircut is the same now as it was in the 7th grade; I did not sacrifice my son’s tuition money after the divorce to buy a metallic silver Porsche 911 Carrera S Cabriolet in order to attract the lay-deez; I’m not dating some brainless “pretty little thing” half my age; my ears remain firmly unpierced.

(Full disclosure: I have no son. I am not now, nor ever was, married. I am not dating anyone (and if I were, I'd prefer a brainy gal). I'm trying to make fun of the stereotype. Or whatever.)

It has been an interesting year, though: Ol’ Pops had his chest ripped open so they could fix his heart; I had a real estate sale that lingered (and you think *one* mortgage is a killer... sheesh...); I’ve had to deal with some personally challenging spiritual issues. Today, most of this is resolved: Dad is doing great; the house is all but officially sold; and forgiveness is mine. Seems like things should be all peachy, no?

So I just donno. I don’t mean to leave you hanging, but I’ve got nothing for ya. I’m not really sure what I’m missing. Except for training camp coverage on the NFL Network--I’m well aware that I’m missing that. Apart from that, though, no clues.

From Restless (RealPlayer) by Brooks Williams (album: Skiffle-Bop):

All the days I have wasted
chasing down the winds of empty praise
And all the times I have lost
searching for riches in abandoned mines

(Chrous)
My heart is restless it finds no peace
I was made for you

Some days my faith is a mighty river
Some days my faith is a barren land
Oh Lord please tell me why
Maybe then I would understand

I promise... next time, I’ll return to talking about “what I did yesterday” stuff, since I know it’s the mundanity that keeps you (both of you) coming back.

With Fosteronomo’s family out of town, he and I went on a weekend camping trip in the Cascades. I dubbed this trip, “Cat’s Away Camping Trip 2006.” Our eventual destination: Snowy Lakes.

Fosteronomo could be such a sorry lad... he’d be eating bean burritos and working late if I weren’t around to help fill this time of temporary bachelorhood. But I digress.

We knocked off work a little early on Friday and made it to the Rainy Pass trailhead (elevation: 4800 feet) off of Washington Highway 20 around 6:20 pm. We hiked in 4-ish miles to the second campsite, which is located below Cutthroat Pass where the trees start to thin out. We spent both Friday and Saturday night there.

Saturday morning started chilly, but it quickly turned in to an incredibly cloudless blue sky with temps near 80 F. We headed out to Cutthroat Pass (6800 ft) where we ate second breakfast, gained a little more elevation before a seriously steep descent to Granite Pass (6200 ft), and finished our inward trek at Snowy Lakes (6750 ft). It's like you can reach out and grab jet contrails from up there. Off in the not-too-distant distance we saw smoke from the Pasayten Wilderness fires.

Campsite to Snowy Lake distance: 6.5-7 miles. Total roundtrip distance for the weekend, says Hiker Bob: 23 miles.

According to plan, we packed up camp Sunday morning, but with adversity. Precipitation started Sunday around 5:30 am, and it included some sleet. Re-engaging those muscles and joints that we destroyed the day before wasn't a figurative walk in the park, either.

There was no burn ban, so we built a campfire each night. Pipes were smoked, coffee was sipped, bull-pucky was exchanged. The temperature both nights was in the 40s. The howling wind on the second night was really cool--we didn’t feel it, but we could hear it swirling above us in the trees and up the basin walls that surrounded us.

Pictures follow. Click 'em for full-size images.

Mighty men ready for action:

The view above Granite Pass looking out towards Snowy Lakes and Methow Pass:

 
Foster cooling his dogs:

The hills are alive with the sound of music:

Staged photo of mountain man Jimbo crossing Porcupine Creek:

Click here for Foster's Google Earth overlay and details. Click here for a lousy screenshot of something sorta similar.

Last night I started watching the TV Series Firefly. Until now, I only knew the show through critical hype and the theatrical release of Serenity (which I loved, by the way).

The show is great. The characters are human; the writing is smart and quick-witted; the severe moments are palpable; the relaxed times are relatable. It's cowboys-in-space with Gilmore Girls-esque dialogue. You should watch it.