I had my first allergy test when I was ten years old, from on Dr. Clifton Furukawa at the Northwest Asthma and Allergy center in Seattle. After moving back last year, I’d yet to get an asthma checkup. To my surprise, I was referred to one Dr. Furukawa. Anyway, it turns out I’m still allergic to every carbon-based compound on the planet:
“The budget should be balanced, the treasury should be refilled, the public debt should be reduced, the arrogance of officialdom should be tempered and controlled, and the assistance to foreign lands should be curtailed lest Rome become bankrupt. People must again learn to work, instead of living on public assistance.”
Cicero-55 B.C.
I just needed to get that off my chest.
I voted for Barry and Joe (they’re better, as proven by Computer Science), Christine Gregiore, Jim McDermott, Randy Dorn, Parks, the Market, and some other stuff. How’d you do?
Don’t call it a comeback.
–LL Cool J
Yeah, it’s been a while. Turns out, in Seattle, when summer hits and the sun comes out, things start happening, stuff goes down, E’s are vited, dead meat gets cooked, optimistic goals are undertaken, and a hairy man in in a uniform with a bullhorn comes around shouting “step away from the computer! It is unknown at this time how long this weather will last! You have been found deficient in Vitamin D, and have been sentenced to two point five months of activity!”. So I’m going to try and make a few posts to get caught up here.
First, you’ll notice a new “Photos” link on the sidebar. I’m trying to get some of my recent photos online, starting with a trip to Mt. St. Helens I did with Bryan and Greg, and various friends, and a canine, back in June. 
We car camped the night before, did some fishing, got up at 6am, and had slogged our way up to treeline by 10am. It took another four hours or so to make it to the top, mostly hiking on snow with a couple of nice steep sections. I sort of live for that moment of summiting and the time spent on top; you can see so far that the world seems small, which does wonders for one’s ego.
Coming down involved 3,000 feet of what the French call glissading, which translates to wearing slick pants and sliding on your ass.
Photos are in the new gallery. Note that not all photos are exposed to the unforgiving Internet; you need to be logged in to see them all. There’s a link to register on the sidebar.
More posts soon.
