My Cat 5 Cooking exploits are infamous around these parts. And a recent look through my files informed me that I take WAY too many shitty photos of the food I cook and the beers I drink. Certainly, I could be using this brain power for good rather than self-indulgent idiocy. But, as Peter (Criss) allegedly might have said to Paul (Stanley), “Like, whatever it takes to get through the day, man.”
After an abbreviated lumber due to the local Thanksgiving turkey trotters, I was anxious to get on the trails on Friday morning to finish off my week of lumbering.
I was up at my usual 6 AM on Thanksgiving morning to tend to the dogs and my dumps, and then it was a quick cup of coffee and out the door into the dark to get to the trails before the annual Turkey trot trail race kicked off at 9 AM.
I was sort of pissed about the race happening because I really wanted to attempt it this year! But the last time I Googled it (pre-autumn mental meltdown), all I could find was the 2023 event info. Then, when I woke up this morning, I wanted to double-check, and NOW there was the damn info. Go figure. Perhaps it’s a sign from the Run Dogs that I’m not ready yet.
Part I, More Tales of the Mundane
After Tuesday morning’s 5-mile lumber, I quickly headed home for breakfast and to shower before heading to the dentist to finally get my teeth cleaned after two weeks of rearranged appointments, sick hygienists, and one annoyed would-be patient.
In Friday’s post, I made a ridiculous and bold proclamation that I would do some treadmilling to offset the beers I planned on consuming whilst watching the football all weekend. I have no shame in admitting I did no such thing.
A week of lumbering 25+ miles in the cold, dank woods had my aging bones perfectly content to be warm inside, close to a kitchen stocked with food and adult beverages, with slippered feet up while sitting in my favorite chair, remote in hand, yelling at the TV, and being a goof as two bulldogs fart, burp, snore, and stink up the living room. It’s kind of my weekend “thing.”
Today’s 6.10-mile lumber was dank, grey, and fairly lifeless in the woods. I saw a couple deer sprinting away from a distance and a black-capped chickadee flitting around in some brush, and that was it. I took one shitty photo which is not shown here due to said shittiness. Instead you get a backyard Turdus captured weeks ago.
Thursday morning, Jake (The Dog) woke me up out of sound sleep just before the alarm with one of his patented Wookie growls that sounds like Chewbacca is being “taken” against his will in the showers of a Death Star prison. This is Jake’s way of telling me that it’s time for me to get my flaccid white man ass downstairs and haul his ass out in the yard to pee. It’s a startling way to awaken, to say the least.
Slippers on, gutchies buttoned up, flashlight between the teeth, and Jake slung over my left arm (the one with rampant tendonitis in the elbow from doing this 4+ times a day, every day), I threw open the back door, stepped out into the darkness, and there they were.
First Flakes: Thursday, November 21st at 6:02 AM
Mark it, dude.
Today kicks off firearms deer season here in Michigan. That means that people such as myself who lumber around the woods in the early morning have to use extra caution so as not to have our chests ripped open by a Super Shock Tip bullet (I hear they’re killer!)
Because Michigan gotta Michigan, the weather has turned from a warm, 50˚ hike on Monday morning to a clear and frosty 27˚ lumber on Wednesday, to a soggy lumber in a steady rain and 40˚ temps on Thursday.
I’M ON A ROLLERCOASTER OF CLIMATE-INDUCED EMOTIONS!!!
As I recently posted, Monday morning’s 6-mile lumber was an unusually warm one. However, a few hours later, the winds picked up, and the temps dropped as if they were blowing directly from the frigid teat of a witch (the one that lives in a shed just outside of Zama City, Alberta).
With that, Tuesday morning’s 6-mile lumber was a cold one and a full 20˚ colder than the day before. Ahhh… normality. Well, at least weather-wise.
