Sublime

"Summertime, and the livin's EZ.
Bradley's on the microphone with Rock MZ"

At least that's how I thought the song went. Keep in mind, I also wrongly heard Beck say "Two ton pimples and a microphone" instead of his actual "Two turntables and a microphone," so take everything with a grain of salt. And who cares what Bradley is doing with Mr. MZ? That guy is dead anyway. It's summertime, all right, but Sublime didn't need to tell me that: I am writing this post with a Kleenex folded up and jammed in my right nostril in a feeble effort to stop the bleeding. Oh yes, kiddies. Hot + dusty + dry = bloody face. Good grief.

So what else comes with summer? How about searing temps and a merciless sun when climbing at Rifle? This weekend, there was plenty of that.

Kate and I went out to the canyon this weekend, and met up with some old buddies. You'll be pleased to know that Team Grumpy was there, in full effect. Ironically, they have a 4 year old mutt that is as wild as a redneck on moonshine. I watched this beast run laps in the shade of the Ruckman Cave, happily using someone's rope as a turnaround point. Fido would race up in a cloud of dust, stomp on the rope, pivot and run towards the woods. Repeat that process about a dozen times, and you have me (annoyed as shit) leaving the Ruckman Cave. I'd rather go slip off a greasy climb on some baking wall with sweat trickling into my eyes than endure more of this mumbo jumbo.

Off to the other side of the canyon, in full sun, where at one point it was so bad that I computed a quick equation in my head. Selling family member X into slavery > Staying put. (Solve for x). Times were tough. The route I wanted to do, Extended Family, had been taken over by feral animals. The other side was too dam hot. Kate and I bailed for the only sensible option, a charcoalburger from Vicco's.

Now we're back in Boulder where GMAT study, oil and gas leases, and an unhappy mucus membrane await.

Correction: Hans says its Ras MG. Some Pharcyde rapper. So there you go.