Round 2, Finally

Sorry to go so long between posts, but I've been busy traveling to New Jersey for a funeral. On the brighter side, this unexpected trip got me out to see my girlfriend's family, always a blast. While I was hanging in The Garden State, I got another round of suggestions for the blog, and I'm trying to figure out how to weave them all together. I know it's possible. Alchemists turn lead into gold, and Chinese doctors can turn the odd tiger penis into a cure for baldness. I've got to be able to turn breakfast, St. Patty's day, yard sports and naps into a blog. Let's roll on this Bad Oscar.

I should start things on an entirely unrelated note. Thievery Corporation is coming to Denver on Thursday, and even though my credit card bill is a bit unruly at this juncture, I'm really considering picking up an overpriced ticket. Keep in mind, my buddies Rob and Jim are going with a big bag of mushrooms, and anytime those three are involved, the possibilities are endless. The last time we went to a show, I saw Christopher Lawrence at a renovated church, and ended up meeting Mr. Gay Leather Colorado at an after party. That was literally how he introduced himself, and you can imagine my giddiness. How many times can you say you've shaken mitts with Mr. Anything?

Back to the matter at hand. The sandwich. Recently, my friend Brian has been calling me The Sand Man, out of homage to my love of stacked goodness between sliced, toasted bread. He and I were at Snarf's the other night after a climbing session, and I devoured an 8 inch sub filled with chicken salad and roasted peppers faster than you can say, "What the hell is Snarf's?" Snarf's, my friend, is a Colorado culinary specialty.

So far as I know, they started purveying their delights in Boulder, raking in cash from stoned students and rock climbers alike. Snarf's just opened a new location down in Denver, about 5 blocks from the home of Abaluba's own resident celebrity, Hans. The H Dog was thinking about moving to a new, cheaper apartment until he found out that Snarf's was coming to town. This has led him to abandon all plans for saving money on rent, and in fact has forced him to take out a personal line of credit that'll be used to finance his daily dose of Snarf's sammys. His favorite? The pro sized Turkey with all the fixin's. Good choice, my man. And at 9.24%, a good business decision, too!

Bear in mind, I'm not called the Sand Man due to my affinity for Snarf's alone. There's a place here in Dirty Jerz that has me salivating with equal anticipation. I'm sure you've all heard of the Sloppy Joe, a piled high mess of hamburger and ragu that looks and tastes like sadness. I want to dispell such silliness from your minds, and instead beg you to realize that a Sloppy Joe, at least as produced by the Milburn Deli, is a creation that rivals the internet and Pam Anderson as one of god's finest. Two slices of rye bread (rumored to be buttered) stand as the bookends. Between lie a stack of meat, swiss cheese, another slice of rye, cole slaw and russian dressing. Oh holy Christ. I'll have two.

I asked Will Swayne what he thought of this incredible food creation, but he was much more impressed by the delight that is breakfast. Fine, William, breakfast it it.

We've taken care of lunch with the sandwich combo of Snarf's and a proper Sloppy Joe. Breakfast is best handled in a bowl. Preferrably, there's cereal of some sort, and a lactose counterpart, either milk or yogurt. I know some people who claim Berry Berry Kix as the pinnacle start to their day. I've heard some claim that Cinnamon Toast Crunch stands atop Mount Morning, and Dr. Blackburn is a Frosted Mini Wheat man. And it's true that all of these entries leave a flavorful stew at the end of the meal. So tasty, in fact, that I remember wondering if Cinnamon Toast Crunch Milk was a marketable concoction. But for my money, I prefer something I gleaned from a trip to El Paso, TX.

My friend Nuno was living in a place named "The House of Doom" during a winter climbing season in Hueco Tanks. Four guys all split a house for a 6 month lease back in 2006 or so. Oddly, this was exactly the kind of place that landed the American economy in the stinker, just like the kid in Slumdog Millionaire. A newly built, cookie cutter McMansion on the outskirts of town, but that's exactly why the boys loved it. This particular subdivision was about as close as you could get to the climbing while still being within spitting distance of civilization, and allowed the Doomers unfettered access to The Tanks. AND, The place was big enough to allow for guests. I took Nuno up on the offer.

I went down over a long weekend in February, just short of the end of the season which can be felt around St. Patty's day. By then, the air down by Mexico starts to get too hot to allow fingers to stick to boulders, and the whole climbing crew visiting for the season of good temps head north for cooler crimping conditions. When I arrived at the house, another band of ruffians were visiting, and all told there were about 10 of us packed about. We'd all have breakfast together, talking about where we'd climb, which rangers were dicks, and who's skin felt the worst. I was only there for a few days, so I didn't have a food cache of my own, and left my guide Nuno to dictate the menu. He poured me a heaping bowl of granola, and tossed yogurt, peanut butter, sliced almonds, fruit, and milk on top. With that kind of calorie blast, I was ready to demolish any V2 in my way. (Mom, V2 boulder problems are for anemic Canadians. Things don't get hard until V7 or so.) That, amigos, got each day started right. Now if I only wasn't so goddamn weak!

From there, we'd go towards Hueco Tanks State Park, almost literally the backyard playground for the boys at the Doom Hut. Instead of the traditional bean bags or "corn hole," a terribly named but tremendously fun attraction featuring washers and a hole cut into plywood, we'd just stumble around a maze of building-sized stones with foam pads on our backs. Hoping not to need them, we'd drape the pads over the projected landing zone and motor upwards against gravity. Sadly for me, physics usually win. After three days of losing battles against Earth's inertia, I headed home for CO aboard an airplane, hoping and praying that this time, my luck would hold and I'd beat the unstoppable force, at least for the moment.

I don't know about you superhuman voeuyers, but after that many consecutive days of climbing, I need some rest. I think as I get older I start to enjoy a little down time. When I was younger, I told my parents, "No mo' nappus, never ever!" I also told them that I wanted to be a lion, so take it all with a grain of salt. Now that I've gotten more into climbing, though, I see it as a way to recuperate, and maybe grown some new fingers.

I've tried a new breakfast regime, and even added to my lunch menu. I'm hoping to figure out some way to get strong enough to maybe send a V3. If napping doesn't work, maybe I'll talk to some Asian doctor about a little tiger wang stew for dinner. Anything that helps, right?