A Mad (and furry) Man

The biggest development of the last few days has been my fast and furious (and now, sadly, finished) love affair with Mad Men. I could tell you about the climbing I've been doing, but I'll be realistic. After a certain point, the general public can only stand so much banality regarding crimps, high-steps, off-the-chart pump factor, and Metro Mark managing to epic while literally seated inside of a hueco. If anyone's truly interested in the climbing tales at this point, let me know. I'll do a post exclusively dedicated to tales from the crag. We'll call it "As The Cliff Turns".

Mikey "4x4" Personick had season 1 of Mad Men on DVD, but I realized it all too late. I managed to get through three of the four disks, but this left four full episodes from season 1 still to be viewed. That speaks nothing for season 2, and from amctv.com, it looks like they just finished season 3. I'm perpetually behind the curve of anything popular, so it shouldn't come as a shock that I've discovered hipness far too late in the game.

The very fact that I managed to get so far into season 1 is a testament to God's will and the power of caffeine. With the aid of several cups of coffee, I plowed through nine 48 minute episodes in two days. That's a shameful way to spend a life. It's like one of those benders where the last thing you remember was the Del Taco drive through, and then you wake up in a dumpster in San Juan, Puerto Rico. Ever have one of those? You just get up, dust yourself off, and hope no one saw you at your lowest. That's too much time to spend in front of a TV (or in the bottom of a trashcan, for that matter).

I'm hoping I can manage the remaining 30 0dd episodes at a more reasonable pace. Perhaps anyone coming out to The Red (ahem, DAN RICHELSON!!!) can manage to track down some of those missing shows.

From watching those episodes, I can't help but come to several conclusions. The first is that I should continue to wear a tie to work. Playing the suit card wouldn't go over particularly well, given that many of the folks I work with typically wear jeans. That said, I really should rock the slacks/tie/sweater combo, and wouldn't look entirely out of place. It doesn't necessarily replicate the "Camelot" look from 1960 corporate New York, but it's my best Western Cow Town impersonation of a fetching Don Draper.

The second realization: I've been enormously lucky to have had the opportunity to do exactly what I want for the month of November. Instead of being forced by society into an unrewarding role, as many of the characters of the show appear to have been, I'm actively pursuing one of my great passions. There are times, certainly, where it get's a bit strained. That's just the opportunity cost of life. At the end of it, though, this month is a chance to delve deeply into an activity that typically only comes in the short bursts of a weekend or afternoon. I'm breathing deeply the autumn air, trying to enjoy each present moment for what it is. The looming worry that sits intertwined with my insecurities for the future (love, career, health) are put aside as I focus only on the day at hand. What a beautiful way to live.

And less beautiful? My face. Sure, rest days out here are spent recovering from the climbing while working on my laptop. There's no dress code here at The Highlander Cabin, so I've taken the opportunity to sit in on conference calls while wearing a bathrobe, and write emails to the BLM from my bed. Since there's no face to face contact (though we're in a high tech world, my clients don't use video conferencing at this point, thank god), I'm taking the opportunity to put off the Colorado version of the Camelot appearance, and look effectively homeless.

To get the full effect, I had to increase the megapixel allowance and focus the light overhead precisely so, but now the question has been answered: What do I look like with a two week old crappy mustache/goatee combo?

As of now, I'm planning on running straight through until Thanksgiving before scraping it off. That should give the whole family a laugh when we gather at the farm to feast. I'll let it grow for another week or so, and then update the pic again. If it doesn't fill in, maybe I'll grab some Touch of Gray and fill in the wispy peach fuzz.

I'm off to write some more emails to hapless government employees back in CO, and work on my graduate school application.

A quick Happy Birthday to Tom Hare, my old roommate from Madrid. It was back then, while marauding around the Spanish streets, that we coined the term Abaluba. Life certainly is good, my friend.