Brian the Caterpillar

I've learned something about myself in the past few months. While I may SUCK at creating and maintaining an outdoor garden, I am a veritable Chlorophyllic Maestro with indoor plants. If I plant it indoors and in a pot, a plant has no choice but to flourish under my wizened tutelage.

One of the plants I had a little trouble with was my mint. My mint patch on the outside of the house seems to be the only thing that grows, it is taking over my lawn. But in a pot, I didn't think it was going to catch.... until Saturday. On Saturday I noticed that the wilted leaves had new life, a few extra buds, and an overall look of health. So I watered it, thanked it for doing a good job, and placed it beside the other herbs. Here is one of the batches of recently rejuvenated leaves:


Sunday morning, I wake up and wander into the kitchen to pour myself a bowl of delicious Chex. I happen to glance over at the herb patch and... CATASTROPHE!



WTF!?!?!? Look at my poor plant! The leaves, that just ten hours ago were sprightly and green, are now just nubbins! It's scraggly and all crumbly looking. What the hell happened?

Well, I did a little investigation, and after 3 or 4 minutes of close inspection, I found the culprit:


This little guy, his name is Brian, ate the shit out of my plant. I was very mad at Brian, Brian almost became mush. However, my better sensibilities took over and I figured I already know what he eats, I may be able to keep him and watch him metamorphose into whatever. (Butterfly? Moth?)

So, Brian has a new home in my son's bug terrarium. I put a few sprigs of mint in there from the outside garden, lo and behold he began munching more mint. Hungry little thing. So, On Monday morning I check on him, and I see this:


See the little wisps of filament? He's making a cocoon! And this morning, He's got much more of his house built:


So, watch for an upcoming post of the finished product, and hopefully some time down the road, hopefully you'll get to see Brian the Caterpillar morph into Brian the Butterfly!

- Yuk

Back from the dead

Some of you may have seen me posting a bit, and I count many of the folks that followed my blog as friends. Maybe I owe a little explanation. So, just where the hell have I been?

Well, you know. Life, work, other hobbies, living in a small letterboxing desert, getting overwhelmed with LTC's and the like; all of it combined to keep me away from letterboxing for a long time.

But, I missed it. A LOT. So I'm back, albeit in a much more limited capacity. Life is much too busy for me to devote a lot of time to events, ltc's, postals, the AQ message boards. But I'm finding and I'm planting, and that's what's important.

One caveat: I owe some folks an LTC. I'm not apologizing for backing away from the hobby for a little bit, but I'm also not one to go back on my word. I'm working on an idea for my last LTC. It should be, if it works, my best effort and will have another collaborator from outside of letterboxing. It won't be immediate, or maybe even soon. But preboxed, Mama Cache, and a few others, you're first on the list.

So where the hell have I been?

Today, I found a box I've wanted to find for a looooong time..



I'm back, and I'm bad.

Closing a Chapter of Life....

For those of you that know me, you know that I manage a Call-Center for a very large telemarketing firm. It has been at the same location for 17 years, I have worked here for the past ten.

It was not my intention to have a career in sales. My degree is in programming, and while going to college I needed beer money. I wrote a list of my skills which looked like this:

1. I'm good with computers
2. I'm an excellent communicator
3. I'm really bad at manual labor
4. I like air conditioning.

I figured an excellent place to apply all of these skill sets was in telemarketing. I looked in the yellow-pages, found a firm near my house, applied and got the job. I quickly became one of the best salesperson's in the office, and moved up into a data-entry position. I worked this until I graduated from college, at that point I quit and got a job programming. That company downsized shortly after I got a job, and I went back to telemarketing "temporarily."

Shortly after starting, I found out I was soon to be a father. I could not find another job in the computer industry, and a supervisor position opened up in the office, which I applied for and was hired. Sine then I've been a trainer, Corporate Training Manager, Office Manager, and Operations manager. I've traveled the world and opened sites in several countries.

Yesterday, in a corporate restructuring move, we found out we will close our office in 60 days.

It's weird to know that such a large part of your life will come to an end in two months. Till then, we have to maintain the business and make sure we deliver the same results to our client, which is a major fortune 500 company. I met my son's mother in this office. Most of my friends are workmates. A lot of memories, and a lot of good times.

I'll be fine, I know I am very marketable and this will be the push I needed to find a career with better growth potential. But I am worried. I am worried about the 21 year-olds that I employ, the kids that led a hard life and had nowhere else to go until we hired them. They are trying to make good, and just had the carpet ripped out from under them. I worry about the ones that may go back to drugs. I worry about the single moms and dads. I worry about the 60 and 70 year-olds that have no retirement and our economy forces them to work. I worry about the people that have been here 17 years and know nothing else. I can write letters of referrals and help them with their resumes. I can do what I can, I wish there was more I could do.

For me, I look forward to more opportunities. I'll be able to take a couple months off with my severance package, do a lot of hiking and letterboxing, and spend more time with my son than I have been able to since he was born. I look forward to applying myself in a different career.

In the next couple months, if a telemarketer calls you, before you hang up on us, a kind word might count more than you know.

Skeletons in the Closet, Part 2

(continued from http://mryukslifeboxed.blogspot.com/2008/01/skeletonas-in-closet-part-1.html)

As the world went from black to grey, and things started coming back into focus, I felt a pleasant nuzzling of my ear, a warm, moist open-mouthed caressing of my lobes.

Groggily, I said: “No baby, it’s too early..”

At this, I was jolted awake by a sharp kick to my solar plexus, and coming out of my delirium, I noticed that the aforementioned deer was the culprit of said nuzzling.

“Comet!”, I yelled, what are you doing?”

“Trying to wake you up, weirdo!”

“Oh, I must have fallen unconscious. So, what brings you to the Keystone State in March, and more particularly, to MY rooftop?”

It was then, ladies and gentlemen, that I was told a great tale of woe, and shortly after my feud with Santa began:

“It all started,” Comet intoned, “when I was a young buck, specifically on the day I found the cleaning supplies”

“Let me tell you something, Mr. Yuk, elves are not the happy-go-lucky creatures people always see in the movies. They see themselves as masters of Santa’s realm, and are nasty, spiteful little creatures. Elves are also messy, and a secret that Santa does not let out is that THEY ARE NOT HOUSETRAINED! Fortunately, they do not urinate, as they cannot intake fluids. They do however; leave rabbit-style pellets all over the place. Now, you can imagine that this can create quite a mess, with thousands of the little buggers running around the compound, so one day I decided to clean up the reindeer section, ridding it of Elf nuggets.”

“This was around the time that Santa was holding his yearly tryouts for the sleigh-team. My parents had high hopes for me, but I was not so sure. I was still young at the time and not quite as developed as many of the others, I remember Cupid in particular was quite dashing, he was always caught sneaking into the doe stalls. Blitzen had a bit of a drinking problem, when into his eggnog he had been known to cause quite a stir. I was the small, soft spoken one, without much of a chance to make the team. Fate, my friend, was about to intervene. “

“I was looking for some solvent, some supply that would ease the de-pooing process, when I stumbled upon a can of some unknown substance that seemed to sparkle with it’s own inner light. The smell of it was alluring, and if I needed any more assurance, my name was already on the can!”

“This, I figured, was the key, the magic ingredient that would allow me to defeat my opponents in the sleigh tryouts! Eager to make a test run, I looked around for some water with which to dissolve the crystalline powder, but alas, the elves had used the all of our supply for their hedonistic spa parties. So, with no other choice, I snorted the first of many lines up my willing snout.”

“Mr. Yuk, I swear to you I never thought what I was doing was wrong. If only there was some label to affix to cleansers telling young fawns that these are not things to be monkied around with! But alas, I knew not of their pain, and only of their pleasures. The energy provided to me by that powder quickly led me to the top of the sleigh race and I was on the team!”

“The years passed and I continued to be the fastest, but my addiction got worse. It wasn’t long before I was dipping into stockings, looking for pixie sticks to snort up my increasingly scabby nostrils. On the Christmas run of 2003, I hit the wall. Literally, I led the sleigh into the remains of the Berlin Wall. Oh Rudolph, if only you were there to guide the sleigh on that fateful evening!”
“Santa and I had words, and I broke down, begging for his mercy and help. With a sigh, Santa cut my reigns and pointed into the gloam. I was never to see him, my friends, or family again.”

Well, gentle reader, you can imagine my shagrin and dismay upon hearing this story. In the following months, I worked with Comet to get him off the powder, and started a campaign to get Santa to properly label his detergents and to take young Mr. Comet back. My requests went unheeded, and every Christmas since, Santa has done something despicable to my house, culminating in the scene depicted on my Christmas LTC.

I do not regret my experience however, as Comet has become a loyal friend and hiking partner, and saves me a bundle on airfare!

Skeletons in the Closet, Part 1

It is with heavy heart that I have to post this, but I suppose you cannot lead a political life without a few skeletons bone-dancing out of your closet. The first, in this candidate’s campaign, came on the heels of me announcing my interest in running for the position of first LB President.

Yesterday, prolific carver and all-around wonderful boxer Dale End Farm posted the following message on the AQ boards regarding my personage:

http://www.atlasquest.com/boards/message.html?gMsgId=180291

Now, Santa usually puts coal in the stockings of individuals who have been bad the previous year. Let’s just say that Santa is doing something MUCH worse on my Christmas LTC.

What most people do not understand is that the qualifications for whether you have been “BAD” or “GOOD” is an arbitrary system decided on by Santa himself! And Santa, gentle reader, holds grudges!

It March of this year, it will be four years since the start of my ongoing feud with Santa (which is an anagram for Satan, mind you) started. Though I wish we could make amends and bring an end to this sad state of affairs, Mr. Kringle chooses to continue to harass and intimidate my family.

On that chilly morning in March of 2004, I awoke to a crunching sound, reverberating the house to-and-fro. Concerned as to what could be making such a noise (squirrels in the rafters?), I got out of bed and searched the house. The crunching continued, but a source could not be found. So I put on my boots, hiked up my flannel pajamas, and walked into the yard. Glancing up to the eaves of my roof, I was startled to see a deer (very unlike the whitetails we have in PA) perched on my shingles!

Upon regaining my balance, I shouted up to the deer “Ahoy there, come down from my gambrels this moment!” To my surprise, in one agile bound, the deer floated through the air and landed lightly on the lawn in front of me. While backing up in shock, the deer looked me in the eyes and said:

“Do not be alarmed, sir! It is merely I, Comet, looking for a place to rest from my wanderings!”

At this, I tripped over a brick at the border of my herb garden, fell over backwards, and hit my head upon the northwest corner of my home.

*fades to black*

To be continued!

Major Endorsement!

As a pacifist, vegetarian, and Nobel Prize winning physicist, I would like to briefly step from the ether to lend my wholehearted endorsement of one Mr. Yuk for the upcoming Presidential elections.

Sincerely,

Albert Einstein

Mr. Yuk for Prez

A half-score of years ago, our forefathers brought to this great nation a beginning. A beginning of something great: Letterboxing. Though nigh ten years have passed since the first box twas placed in the fair woodland beauty of the United States, we have seen letterboxing expand and take on realms new and varied, while still remaining true to it’s roots.

I ask you, gentle citizen, would you have this pastime destroyed, torn asunder at it’s very core by vagabonds and ne’er-do-wells. I say no, you wouldn’t. But that very thing is what will happen if you hand the presidency to one of the current “candidates.”

Wassamatta_u? There’s a lottamatta. For one, he has shown a degree of joviality not fitting of a president. Would you want our foreign relations further strained by a Chaplainesqe prankster in his underwear? You would not. Additionally, wassamatta_u is a MOOSE! A moose with a squirrel fetish no less. Who knows what kind of secret signals he receives with those antlers (antennas?) of his.

Team New Hampshire? NAY! I say. Team New Hampshire’s lead man is a modern day Fagin, arming roving bands of delinquents with cooties to trouble the carry-alls, pouches, and bags of many-a-letterboxer. Would you give more power to a man with an army of urchins already at his command, his every beckon call?

MaineKokopellian. I will cite Wikipedia here:

Kokopelli is a fertility deity, usually depicted as a humpbacked flute player (often with a huge phallus and feathers or antenna-like protrusions on his head), who has been venerated by some Native American cultures in the Southwestern United States. Like most fertility deities, Kokopelli presides over both childbirth and agriculture. He is also a trickster god and represents the spirit of music.

Among the Hopi, Kokopelli carries unborn children on his back and distributes them to women (for this reason, young girls often fear him). He often takes part in rituals relating to marriage, and Kokopelli himself is sometimes depicted with a consort, a woman called Kokopelmana by the Hohokam and Hopi.

‘nuff said.

There is also a fourth candidate, and while I will not choose to cast disparaging remarks at a 10 year old, I would also not choose one to lead me into the future.

What do I offer?

1. I pledge I will contact Heritage Mint directly and not only get them to NOT discontinue the very popular sandwich size of lock-n-lock, I will use my leverage to get them to produce, a smaller, flatter, rectangular size, which this candidate think would be very nice.
2. I will drink beer at least three times per week.
3. I will send ready-made letterboxes to the first ten requesters, so they may plant them as they wish.
4. I will start a national letterbox reclamation committee, designed to bring back historical letterboxes in all areas of the country.
5. I will shower each and every day, except for Sundays, and if I am camping or hiking overnight.

I’m Mr. Yuk, and I’m running for President.

Number One Too Beaucoup

Palace in the Sky , the unfinished mansion of former President Ferdinand Marcos, has been converted and renamed the People's Park in the Sky.

The Palace in the Sky was built for the official state visit of the former US President and Mrs. Ronald Reagan, though the Reagan's cancelled their trip due to the general unrest and Marcos' problems at the time. Looking at the shell of the palace today, it's hard to imagine the opulence and splendor it enjoyed during its heyday. Hollywood stars entertained the Marcos' and their cronies with such ostentatious and fragrant displays of wasting money, it became one of the final nails in the Marcos' political coffin.

In any event, it's definitely worth the time to visit as the view is amongst the best I've seen; Lake Taal and Taal volcano to the south, Laguna de Bay to the east, and almost as far as Manila to the north. Plus, you get to stamp up the first letterbox in the Philippines!

If you do any research at all on the area, it is easy to find Taal Volcano, which resides in Taal Lake, on the rim of which resides People's Park in the Sky. This is a tourist driven place, but not so crowded that you are unable to find a peaceful moment and wait till any passers-by are out of sight before retrieving the letterbox.

The gate in the photograph below leads to the steep, winding road up to the Palace. Inside is an employee who will take your entrance fee (15 pisos, or about U.S. 30 cents). From this gate the rest of the trip is on foot.

From here, the road winds steeply up. On your left will be a sheer hillside, on your right a steep mountainside. On your way up, watch on your left for the sign pictured below:

At this point, you should stop and pretend to take some pictures, looking for the location of the box and WAITING until the coast is clear to receive it. You will want to go to the end of the sign. Right after the 'K' in 'PARK' you will see a streetlight, about 3 feet off the path on your left:

While looking at this streetlight as if you were taking the picture above, directly to the right and a little bit behind the streetlight, there is a small (about 4 ft tall) 3 stemmed tree. Directly behind this tree is a rock. Under the rock is some Posseware. (a waterproof military container used for decon wipes, so named because they are the Crayola Posse's choice of boxes)

The stamp is the logo of a beer I highly suggest you try while visiting the Philippines, but try it in moderation, it's powerful stuff.

After you stamp up and re-hide the box CAREFULLY, I suggest continuing up the hill and have a wander around this decaying example of the abuse of power.

First Finder gets a HH I planted in the box just for being cool enough to seek out a box in such a far location.

When you return, I suggest you ask a local where Leslie's is. It's an awesome restaurant with wonderful, moderately priced food and good drinks. It is primarily outdoors, you can sit in a Cabana overlooking beautiful Taal lake and it's fish-pens, and Taal volcano:

If you're lucky, the house band will be there. This is them performing ABBA's "Dancing Queen." Truly sublime:

Greetings from Steelers' Nation

It’s almost halfway through the 2007 - 2008 football season, and yeah the Steeler’s are still here. We’re not the best we ever were, nor are we as good as we will be.

What does it mean to be a Steeler’s fan?

"I hated putting on that purple uniform, and I hated that raven bird. What really ticked me off is when we played Pittsburgh our whole stadium seemed to be filled with Pittsburgh fans." Tackle Orlando Brown, on playing in Baltimore for Art Modell's Ravens (1999).

"We're coming from everywhere. We play with 15 guys in the huddle. We have guys parachuting from airplanes, fans coming from out of the stands to help us go after people." Kevin Greene.

"The only thing I want to see different is that there were a lot of Steelers fans there, which is great for the Steelers, but this is our home." Mike Holmgren, Seahawks/Steelers Game (2003)

We are here sitting in our bars or on our couches. We are here cheering every tackle, every sack, and every forced fumble. We are here wanting to smash your face in.

"Who is Joe Namath? This is a guy who, if he played in the league today, I'd probably just go hit him late and see what he did, just for the hell of it. Joe Namath can go to hell; he can kiss my ass." Greg Lloyd, after NBC commentator Joe Namath accused Lloyd of playing dirty (1991).

"Going after the QB is like playing king of the mountain. When you get the QB, you're on top of the mountain." Joe Greene.

"I am very aggressive and very physical. On the field I guess I am just plain mean." Jack Lambert.

"He had no teeth, and he was slobbering all over himself. I'm thinking, 'You can have your money back, just get me out of here. Let me go be an accountant." I can't tell you how badly I wanted out of there." Denver rookie QB John Elway, on Jack Lambert, after Lambert and the Steelers knocked Elway out of his first game as a pro (1983).

We hate the Ravens. We hate Dallas, and we hate Cincinnati. And if you’re from Cleveland, there’s a special circle of hell just for Browns fans.

Nope, we’re not on top. Yeah, New England is pretty much unstoppable. But when you come to Pittsburgh, or we come to your town, you’re gonna lose some players.

Cyclonic out in Philly, chadams in New York, cheartb and Safari Man out there in Ohio, you can box with me anytime.

Except for Sundays...

Real Men...

If you do not read all the blogs I do, you may not understand my inspiration for this or who I am joshing. Did you know you can subscribe to blogs on AQ? It's a very cool thing. I hear there's a cyclone in the "live free or die" state.

Real men wear pasties while hiking, so they don't scrape their nips on briars.

Real men hate Jane Fonda, even though she looked sorta hot in a superman shirt and afro.

Real men use unscented toilet paper. Their butt smells fine the way it is.

Real men like the smell of gasoline.

Real men and "reel em' in" sound a lot alike.

Real men believe in the magical fairy that cleans the house for them.

Real men lift the toilet seat up. However, they also refuse to put it back down. If some woman chooses to sit her naked butt down willy-nilly without looking where she is sitting, that is of no consequence to a real man.

Real men like to get dirty. I mean really freaky. And smoove.

Real men use cottage cheese as a condiment. Perhaps for tacos, or a bacon and egg sandwich.

Real men like Converse All-Stars.

Real men ink standing up.

Real men vote Republican. Then they take a fork and stick it directly into their jugular vein, because it hurts less than voting Republican.

Real men enjoy pooping.

Real men love their country. Especially Hank Williams.

Real men blog.

Real men wear pastels, so they can blend-in to the clothing racks when their girlfriend asks him to go shopping. This enables beer drinking and hand-held game playing.

Real men beat women. At Scrabble.

Real men know that Mr. Yuk is just funning.

- Mr. Yuk

I'm baaaaack...

So, it's been a whirlwind three weeks for me. I have been going on a bunch of little trips for the company I work for and have not been able to do any boxing on these trips. That's sort of like going to a strip joint but having to clean out the stalls. Not any fun.

This combined with some other stuff I had to get done made me seriously late on some postals, which I have spent the past few days stamping in and getting the things out in the mail.

This blog will be like a little summary of the little bit of boxing I have been able to do on the weekends while I have been home.

About three weeks ago, we went to find the three boxes planted by some new boxers in our area. Were were pleased to find all three, first finders in two of them, and great carves. What a welcome addition to the area!

There first was a series of two that has you go across this really cool walking/suspension bridge. It seems that back in the day, the Army Corps of engineers had built two other normal bridges on this spot and had them destroyed by floodwaters. So, in true governmental fashion, they decided to screw it and just built a walking bridge.

But it is one DANDY of a walking bridge. It bounces and swings side-to-side whi;e you are on it, and it is LOOOONG. Here is the Pirate, logbook in hand, on the trail leading up to the bridge:


Here is the entrance to the bridge:



The bridge itself:


The former abutments (sp?) of the old Army Corps of Engineers bridges, long ago washed away:


Their third box took us to a park that made me sing a song repeatedly for about 30 minutes, much to the rest of Team KPI's dismay:

"Up on crooked creek, she..."

I don't know the words to this song so much, so I edited them for enjoyment:

"Up on crooked creek, she kissed me me
If I take a leak, she pissed me
I don't have to eat, she feeds me
a drunkard's dream if I ever did see one...."

While we were on the trail to the box, we spotted this cool tree fungus:







Finally, last Sunday and went to Cook's Forest and decided to float down the Clarion river on innertubes. The Pirate, Longstockings and I found it very relaxing, and we got to catch bullfrog tadpoles and crayfish at the end of the trip. While we were there, we found one box and searched for another mystery. Turned out, we were not only in the wrong park for that mystery, but also in the wrong section of PA! This didn't matter at all. The trail we were on to find the box had us awed at the breathtaking splendor of nature. It was in an old-growth forest and I took several pictures of towering hemlocks and their root systems, none of which came out. What a day!

On the way back home from Cook's Forest, we stopped in Punxsutawney to meetwith the Pirate's grandfather who wanted to watch him for a few days before the summer was over. We were a little early, so we walked around Punxsy lookin at the Groundhog statues a bunch of artsts did. VERY cool. Then, we wandered over to the little park they have in the center of town, which is adjacent to the library. In the library, is Punxsutawney Phil and his wife Phyllis.

I AM DEAD FREAKIN SERIOUS! In the outside wall of the library, there is a glass house. And in this glass house, which is called the "Groundhog Zoo," Punxsutawney Phil and his wife stay until they are needed to tell the weather. I have been to Punxsy SCADS of times and NEVER knew this. Here is the happy couple snuggling the night away:


So, if you're in a ring with me, they're in the mail. If you missed my meandering diatribes on the AQ boards, I'm back.

Mr. Yuk

A Beer Review of My Own

I may look like a Johnny-Come-Lately on this one, but I swear to you I have intended on doing this blog since I drank this beer (last night.)

Then Cyclonic has to come along and steal my thunder.

Truly, it makes me happy as it proves great minds think alike.... But I digress. Today I'm going to steal a lot of text from the Stone Brewing Company's website. When I do so, you will know because it will be in red text. I'm sure they won't mind as I am giving them free advertising to what I really think is a great idea.

I only patronize two establishments of adult beverages on a regular basis. One of those is Callaghans in Greensburgh, PA. Callaghans is like the neighborhood bar where everyone knows your name. It doesn't have a great selection of beers, but us regulars love it.

The second is Dawg's. Dawg's is a bottle shop that has around 480 different types of beers to purchase singly in bottles (or a mixer six pack!) The staff is knowledgable and friendly, and you could go broke on twenty-dollar bottles of beer. I tend to only have one or two when I go, sticking right around the 5-10 dollar area.

Last night was no exception. I started out with La Fin du Monde by Unibroue, one of my favorite blondes. Then I wanted to try something new. So as I was walking along the display coolers, my eye caught the Stone Brewery rack. I've long enjoyed Ruination, so I figured I'd like to try something else by this wonderful company. This is how I happened upon Stone Vertical Epic 07.07.07...

As with any good epic, herein lies the promise of larger-than-life experiences, heroics and twists & turns as the adventure unfolds. These bottle-conditioned ales are specifically designed to be aged until sometime after December 12th, 2012. Provided you can wait that long. At that time, enjoy them in a "vertical" tasting. Each one unique to it's year of release. Each with its own "twist & turn" in the plotline. Each one released one year, one month and one day from the previous year's edition.

So here's the deal. Stone decided to release ELEVEN different beers, each bearing the Stone Vertical Epic name. The brews released so far are:

Stone Vertical Epic 02.02.02
Stone Vertical Epic 03.03.03
Stone Vertical Epic 04.04.04
Stone Vertical Epic 05.05.05
Stone Vertical Epic 06.06.06
Stone Vertical Epic 07.07.07

These will continue to be released up until 12.12.12 at which point, you are supposed to have a vertical tasting, first to last! That's right, these beers are conditioned to continue to age in the bottle until after the last edition. The flavor will keep changing and the flavors will blend and mellow until being perfect AFTER 12.12.12.

Of course, the one I tried last night was the newest, 07.07.07. Here is it's description:

In this year's edition we took our inspiration from two Belgian styles: Saisons and Golden triples. As such, the Stone 07.07.07 Vertical Epic has a deep, deep golden hue and the flavor is spicy, fruity, complex and refreshing. We used four different malts, and a subtle, yet distinct, blend of Glacier and Crystal hops to get just the right balance. Then, for complexity, we added in some exotic spices --- including ginger, cardamom, grapefruit peel, lemon peel, and orange peel (the latter three acknowledging our Souther California home) --- and a special Belgian yeast strain. All in all this is yet another case of us drawing from classic Belgian influences and cavalierly making it our own...San Diego style!

Deep, Deep Golden is right. It's a pleasure to look at. There it was, sitting in a Delirium Tremens glass, just being stunning. It is a very complex beer. Citrusy at a start, then dryer and more spicy, and finally mellowing to an exotic light hoppiness. The flavor seemed to change distinctly with each passing second.

I bought another 07.07.07 to save, now I just gotta get a bottle of all the other ones to stick in my basement and wait till I turn 35.

So, you're from Pittsburgh, ey?

As some of you know, I have recenly taken a trip to Canada. Canada, in case you have never been there, is America's hat. It is roughly the size of Jupiter, but has the population of Ballsac, Iowa. (That is not a real town at all. (I think.(Though it should be.))) Canadians as a whole are very friendly. This is excluding the ones that speak only French. I don't know if they are friendly or not, as I cannot understand them. This, however, did not stop them from talking to me. I had many conversations in one sided French, and though I picked up the word "crepe" many times, I had the feeling they were swearing at me, as French consists of roughly 82% cuss words. *

I guess Canada is a pretty interesting place, if you can make it out from under the trees. I , however, did not. My hotel was actually a tree fort, and I was repeatedly whacked in the shins by some kid name Mortimer while trying to sleep. Apparently he beleived I was a pirate, come to take over his castle. **

I had the following conversation approximately 3 thousand times during my 3 day stay in Canada. (Apparently they like hockey, who knew?):

Random Canadian (RC): "So, where ya from?"
Mr. Yuk (MY): "Pittsburgh"
RC: "Oh, Pennsylvania, ey?"
MY: "Yup."
RC: "So, you know Sidney Crosby then?"
MY: "Not personally, but I am aware he plays for the Pittsburgh Penguins."
RC: "Oh Yeah, You know he grew up about 4 hours from here."
MY: "I was unaware."
RC: "Oh Yeah, he used to come on down here to Bathurst Rink and we'd all go watch him play, He's amazing..."

Eventually this conversation became this:

RC: "So where ya from?"
MY: "Pittsburgh Pennsylvania, the home of the Pittsburgh Penguins where Sidney Crosby, who grew up 4 hours from here, and used to play at Bathurst Rink, now plays hockey."
RC: "Ah, Um, OK nice meetin ya."

Bathurst really is a nice place, with nice beaches, lots of unspoiled nature and amazing seafood.

While in the hotel, I was watching TV, and managed to catch one of those advertisements for 1-900 adult sex lines. They were all in French which provided me with endless mirth. However, here is a difference from US sex advertisements. In Canada, between the segments for the 900 numbers, it cuts to a bunch of young, hip adults sitting in a circle on love-seats. On closer inspection, these adults are holding, uh, toys. And I'm not talking about the batman/barbie variety. They then proceed to speak about these products in French, and then flash a number and price on the screen where you can order said product for, uh, personal use. The best thing about this is that some words apparently don't translate very well. Their diatribe on whatever they were talking about came out sounding like this:

"Mon singe aime prendre son cockring et sauter autour de la maison tout en criant au dessus de ses poumons."***

While I as there, I managed to plant a box.

My travel time (one way) from Pittsburgh to Bathurst was about 11 hours. Only about 4 and a half of it was flying. For the rest I was stuck in layovers, due largely to the overtaxed Bathurst Airport (Make sure you read the writing.):
Oh, and there's lots of maple syrup.

-Sticky Yuk

* - 90% Fact Free **-100% Fact Free ***-100% Factual

A house for my box.

This will be a short little post about a lonely box.

I have a few plants under my belt now, and while I'm not obsessive about them, I like when I receive find notices and worry when I do not. This worrying has lessened somewhat, I do some maintenance and see 9 finders but only one logged. Oh well, glad people are enjoying them.

But I had this one box that has been sitting out there for a long time, no finders, no reports, nothing. So, I decided to do some maintenance. Fortunately, the box is on the way to one of my favorite summer activity places, so I made a day out of it with the family.

When I got to the hidey-spot, I noticed a bit of a social trail leading past the tree it was hidden behind. I was a bit dismayed at this because it was in a preserve (only about twenty feet off the trail) and I did not want to disrupt any planty things. Turns out, though, it was only a deer trail. It actually wound past the tree my box is hidden behind and deeper into the woods.

So, I followed the fortuitously placed deer trail back to my tree and here is what I see waiting behind it:
See how nice nature is? It made a happy little mayapple pagoda over my little SPOR. The box has no finds and it's sitting snug and dry under it's house.

I know this may have been a boring post, but when I was out there in the woods and I saw that happy little mayapple, I just felt kinda serene.

Mr. Yuk (feeling a little like Bob Ross)

Budget Impass

I am not happy.

You see, I live in PA, a state that prides itself on our State Parks. We have 117 of them. Every Pennsylvanian is within a 15 minute drive from a State Park. These are great areas to explore nature, get some peace and quiet, or go boxing.

Until midnight tonight.

That is when all "non-essential" services in PA will be shut down, due to our current budget impass. Governer Ed Rendell has made the decision that at midnight tonight, 2300 DCNR employees will be placed on furlough. The few who do remain in place will be performing "enforcement and safety shifts only." This boils down to keeping the public off our own land.

Today, you cannot visit a state run museum in PA. You cannot take a drivers license test or get your license renewed. The perpetual construction on our highways has ceased. Even the lights illuminating the Capitol Building are off, as there is no money to run them.

Fortuantely, essential services will remain in place. Among these:

1. The Police
2. Prisons
3. Health Care for the Poor
4. Gambling

Yup, thats right. The Governer in his glorious foresight, has decided that our five slots casinos must remain open, providing an 11th hour exemption from the closing.

So, lets sum this up: The budget impass is so dire that our roads are not being fixed, people cannot remain legal to drive if they happen to be unlucky enough to need these services now. and we can not visit the woods in a state NAMED "Penn's Woods."

We can, however, still be arrested, go to jail, receive health care if we cannot afford it, and gamble.

What an appalling age we live in.

Harmony...

Nope, not referring to anything musical at all.

It seems a long time ago, in Germany there was a guy named George Rapp. George had started an esoterical, Sophist religion called the Harmonists. Because of their difference with Westernized Christianity (one publication from the organization called the standard doctrine so much "Babel") they began to experience much persecution. Because of this, George Rapp and his son (with 700 Harmonists following a bit later) moved to America and purchased three thousand acres in Butler County, PA. It was here that they began the first of three Harmonists settlements, naming it "Harmony."

The Harmonists were communal in nature and practiced celibacy. (A major cause of them dying out as a religion (duh)). However, they are recognized as one of the pre-eminent and most successful of the Utopian Societies. This was largely due to the negotiating skills of George Rapp. At times the per-capita income of the Harmonists was 10 times that of the average American. They lived in Harmony from 1905-1915, and in that time their community included 130 houses, a church, a hotel, a school, a mill, a brewery and distillery, barns, storehouses, factory buildings, and a tannery. By 1814, the Society was farming some 3000 acres of land, with 3000 sheep and 600 cattle.

They were also known for some ingenious inventions and new industrial processes.

One of the curious things about the Harmonists is that when they buried their dead, they did not use a marker of any kind except for a rock placed over the gravesite.

Why am I telling you all of this, you may ask? Well, one of the best things about letterboxing is that you get to learn some great history and see some really neat sites. This happened this weekend. Zelie Zips has seeded Butler County with some great letterboxes. She and her family are pretty much the only active placers in that area and should be commended for the wonderful quality and history of her boxes.

She has a plant at the Harmonist cemetery, and though I had grabbed it by myself prior to this, I wanted to show it to the rest of Team KPI. Also, the first time I grabbed the box it was in the middle of the night and there was a foot of snow on the ground, so I did not get to explore.

What a truly cool place this is. The Harmony historical society has done a good job of putting up some informational signs:

The coolest thing about this place is the door. The entire cemetery is walled in and has 100 gravesites in it. There's only one headstone inside, which I will get to in a minute. The door to the interior is a stone tablet that weighs over a ton, and rotates on an iron rod that is pierced through the center of it and attached to the upper and lower parts of the doorframe. Approximately 200 years after it's construction, my six-year-old is able to open this over 2,000 pound door with a push. (I cannot figure out how to make a picnic table.)
The "one grave marker" I referenced earlier is for a Mr. Johannes Rapp. I will not give any description, I'll let the informational marker do that. I find it darkly humorous.

Well shit. For some reason the link to expand the pics isn't working. I have to figure that out. Anyway, here is what the sign says:

The Harmonists did not mark their graves. This stone memorializes Johannes Rapp, son of Harmony Society founder Johann Georg Rapp, who was injured fatally in an industrial accident; the location of his grave within the cemetery is unknown. Non-Harmonists donated the stone, which the society accepted reluctantly.

We were able to find 8 other boxes, all great. One was next to this really cool waterfall that The Pirate had fun playing around.
A great letterboxing trip and we got to meet and exchange with that wonderful boxer. Weekends like this make work that much harder to come back to...

My dissatisfaction with Postals

Recently, I dropped from four Postal Trackers, which I had signed up for months ago. In the messages I sent to all participants, I merely said I found my interest waning ad felt like I would become a black hole in the future. On this blog I'd like to detail why.

One of the things I LOVE about letterboxing is the stamps. It's amazing to me that true works of art could be hidden just feet off the trail that hundreds of people pass daily. I feel like I'm in on a secret. One of the things that attracted me to postals is that I felt since people would run less of a risk of their carving being lost, they would carve better stamps.While I have found the carvings are generally better (and in some cases amazing) they have lost a little value to me. I admit, I'm becoming sort of a stamp snob. Part of the joys of boxing in PA is that there are SO MANY great carvers around, you get great stamps a LOT. Just seeing their carves have made mine better.

But that's the thing. These amazing artists take JOY out of placing their art in the woods, no matter what fate brings. They don't reserve their shitty carvings for the woods. They put their BEST carvings out there to be found. Just shipping them around to 8-12 people then putting them on the shelf seems weird to me. I appreciate them a lot more when there's trees around.

Secondly, I get overwhelmingly stressed if I do not send the thing out in exactly three days. I am by nature, not a punctual person. I have little free time, and family and work interfere. I have let some of my postals go for a week or more. Every new one that arrived made me more stressed. Instead of being excited about receiving a new postal, I was having the opposite reaction. This was robbing me of the happiness I should feel about receiving someone's art. I may have signed up for too many rings being relatively new to postals, but I definitely got burned out quick. Seeing reports on AQ of boxers receiving TWELVE packages at once filled me with dread.

Finally, the postals were actually taking up time that I wanted to use for actual letterboxing pursuits, like solving mysteries, planning outings, poring over maps, preparing boxes. It would be a sad day indeed when it started taking over actually getting on the trails.

This is not meant to disparage postal letterboxing or anyone that enjoys it. I may even sign up for a postal in the future if the theme particularly suits my fancy (like my Punk Rock Ring). But it will be only one at a time.If you have never done postals and feel the urge, by all means sign up. Celtic Quinn hosts a newbie Ring and many ringleaders are very helpful to new entrants. But be wary. Take your time to learn about it, sign up for just one ring until you see if you like it. There are some GREAT postal creators out there, and you'll see and stamp into some great stuff. Just remember the experiences I have had and if you start to feel the way I do, it will probably get worse.

I didn't want postals to rob me of the joy of postal letterboxes. Does that make sense?

And for the forseeable future, all of my carves except for sig stamps and PT's are destined for the woods.

Livermore (BOO!)

This weekend, after planting a box on Saturday, we decided to go check out one of the few remaining letterboxes within a fifty mile radius that was unfound by us.

This Letterbox is located near a VERY historic cemetery and ghost town, unfortunately, most of the history about this place is untrue.

Livermore was named for a guy named Alonzo Livermore, an engineer for the Pennsylvania Canal, which was the life-blood of the town's economy. In the 1950's, the town was dismantled by the Army Corps of Engineers to make way for Conemaugh Lake. All the residents were moved, and the water was let in.


There are an amazing amount of urban legends about this place:

1. George Romero's "Night of the Living Dead" was filmed here. This is False. That was actually filmed in Evan's City, PA. The problem with everyone thinking it was filmed here is that the cemetary which holds the long-dead, before-flood, residents of Livermore is frequently disturbed by vandals and occultists. All this has resulted in the cemetary being completely off-limits and you can get fined, by the patrolling state-police for crossing the gate below:


2. The cemetery was uprooted and moved to it's current location. Also false. The cemetery has ALWAYS been here. (Well, at least since Livermorians (?!?!) started dying.) There used to be a bridge that crossed the old rail line to connect the town to the cemetery.


3. When the water is low, you can see the chimneys of the old houses and steeple of the old church. It is really spooky. Nope, false, false, false. The key thing about bullet point number 1 is that the town was DISMANTLED. Everything. Yup, even the church. However, if the creek is REALLY low, you can see some foundations. Big whoop. Here is where the town USED to be:

All of these facts aside, it is a spooky place. The place just feels old and stinks of industrial neglect. The flood basin just piles up huge masses of rotting timber and deposits it along the trail, so at times you feel as if you're entering some place you shouldn't be.

The flowers were out and beautiful (too bad these pictures suck. I gotta start remembering my camera. These are taken with my phone):

And we found the box. Inside was a hitchhiker all the way from California that was part of "The Great HH Race of 2004." We'll send it on it's way up to NY and maybe FINALLY it can reach it's destination.

Gathers, Boxers, and Beers, OH MY!

This weekend we were able to attend Stampin' and Campin. What a great experience. Throughout the entire brou-ha-ha I forgot to take any pictures at all until the ride home. Real smart.

Some of the highlights:

1. If you ever get a chance to attend a gather thrown by the Mid-Atlantic crowd, I HIGHLY suggest you do so. Hikers and Hounds managed every detail, down to bringing food, arranging for campsite, and some gather-only boxes. She really deserves credit for all she put into this, we had a GREAT time.
2. A large contigent of dogs filled the campsites, all of them boxers as well. Dude the Wonder Dog, Otto, and Luna all had inky doggy-paws. There was also a large black lab who was patrolling the grounds late at night. I failed to catch his name by that point, however, as I was having trouble being coherent. Which leads me to....
3. Booze! Maryland is kind enough to let you do whatever the hell you want in their woods, as long as you do not have more than two cars per campsite. This is the one thing they will strictly enforce, asking you to kindly move your moonshine distillery so the third car in the site next to you can go to the overflow parking lot. We had lots of beer and one illustrious set of boxers were kind enough to bring Johnny Walker. (not the person)
4. We got the oppotunity to box with a team that has been around since the beginning of boxing in the US. I won't reveal who they are as they choose to fly under the radar, but it was really quite the learning experience getting regaled with stories about the origination of cooties, long time boxers, and happenings before we wandered into this wonderful hobby.
5. The STAMPS! Starry Starry Night by MizSarlet is a masterpiece (quite literally) and the homages, personal travelers, and other assorted stamps were a pleasure to ink up.
6. Cyclonic was kind enough to set up a night boxing course. The trail was tricky at night, but we had a wonderful time stumbling around the woods that we hardly nnoticed.
7. Sunday we went boxing again, and found another set of one of my favorite series. At one of the boxes, there was a family literally SITTING on the log it was hidden in, and we simply had to wait for about 10 minutes before they decided to move on.

I'm sure I'm leaving out a lot, but thank you to everyone who made this experience memorable. Longstockings and I felt truly welcome and had a great time.

On the way home, our car started behaving funny, so we pulled over into Frederick airport, thinking if we couldn't fix the problem we could rent a car. To make a long story short, we fixed the problem quickly and decided to get some dinner at the little restaurant in the airport. When we got into the restaurant and looked out the window, here is what we saw:

That's right, the Goodyear f'n blimp was docked at this teensy little airport for the night. How cool is that? There are actually three of them, One based each in Florida, California, and Ohio. It was neat seeing this thing up close.

After eating we were attracted to a micro-box along the Appalacian Trail:

This box is located about 100 yds away from this sign at the FIRST Washington Monument. The thing in the photos below was built in the 1820's by the residents of Boonesboro, MD to honor our First President.

The Pirate and I in the doorway:

The steps up to the top:

What a view!:

All in all, a great weekend with great people. Thank you all for the history, good times and camaraderie.

HH's, little animals, and LTC's

This weekend was not a huge boxing weekend. I had to work on Saturday, and Sunday we did some other stuff with family. We were able to fit in one box however. This box was located in a city park and contained a store-bought stamp. Other than the hiding spot which was really spectacular, is was a pretty run-of-the-mill find.

The thing that really brightened the day up was a little HH I found inside. This little guy, from the SoHillHendersons, has been all over the country and the stamp, though small, is fairly intricate. This is what makes me really appreciate HH's, they can add to the enjoyment of a find. There is not just one logbook to enjoy, but two. There is not just one stamp to enjoy, but two. And the HH is sort of an adventurer with it's own little story. I love these little things, and I have a hostel ready to plant, I just have to find the right place.

Additionally, we found two more little dudes that day. For those of you that read my blogs, you may remember the baby groundhog. Well this weekend we also found:

and:

Box Turtles are pretty funny little guys, and they're named "box turtles" because they muggle letterboxes. This one I followed to his hidey-hole and found mounds of chewed up tupperware. It's the ink they like. :) I actually thought it would be neat to create a little hitchhiker, where the stamp is a piece of tupperware with four legs and a head. "the Box Turtle..." heh...

In other news, LTC's are "Letterboxer Trading Cards" which are based on Artist Trading cards. The idea is to have a central image on the front side of the card, using mixed media, but it must include a hand-carved stamp. On the back you have your trail name, your real name if you wish, the LTC name and the edition number (i.e. 1 of 20.) I thought this was a pretty great idea, and I spent the weekend making mine. I'm very happy with the way they turned out. When I came into work on Monday, I saw there was another tracker listed (thanks Batty Girl!) for trading these cards, with a limit of 20. I signed up in the nick of time, and am really excited for this to start.


Disclaimer: Yes, Old Scratch, the Devil, Satan, whatever you want to call him is included on my LTC. No, I am not a Satan Worshipper. In fact, if you are truly are ambivalent in regards to spirituality, you equally deny both the good side AND the opposition. Lucifer ("Lucy" to his friends) is included as a reference to Robert Johnson, one of the quintessential blues artists.