8.1.07

FetchDog.com is a new dog catalog site with tons of high-end dog products and information for dog lovers.

My time is up at American Skiing Company and I've accepted a Senior Interactive Position with FetchDog.com in Portland, ME. FetchDog is a high-end dog catalog with a HUGE site on the way. There's not much there yet, but soon you'll be able to browse hundreds of products, find helpful information on dogs, read blogs, forums, and articles about dogs, and even participate in an online community where you can create a profile for you and your dogs.

Working at home has advantages. Save on gas, don't have to shave or wear pants, and you actually get more done. Hopefully I don't go nuts.

I'm working from home in Utah. Today's the first day. So far so good. I have a nice work station set up in our guest room. My new commute consists of a walk across the hall. Right now the dogs are sleeping at my feet and occasionally jump up to knock my hand off the mouse for attention. I'm listening to internet radio and I hear the sounds of the neighborhood out my window. But I can really concentrate on what I'm doing. No distractions. That being said, i'll miss the people from ASC, and all the laughing and joking. But I can still see folks whenever.

6.9.07

These are the shades that gave their lives for Roxie and Blü that day.

The other day, I took the dogs for a run on my bike down the dirt roads out back. They went swimming in one of the stream crossings but the current was a little stronger than usual. All of a sudden I couldn't see Roxie. I dove down onto the pipe/tube that funnels the water under the road. Roxie had gotten sucked in backwards and was swimming against the current. I dropped my bike and ran to the other side of the road to try to coax her to let it shoot her out, but she wasn't having it. She was about 8 feet from where she entered, fighting for her life and trying to keep her head above the water, in the 6 inches of air at the top of the pipe. So I jumped in and started pulling her out. But I had flipflops on and they were starting to float away on me while I lost traction.

I worked my way back up the pipe, dragging her by the collar and grabbing for the end of the pipe. in the commotion if forgot to take my sunglasses off my forehead so they started slipping off. Not a huge concern at this moment, but they were $100 pair of Oakleys. I was about to re-secure them when I looked up and saw Blü, never one to be left out, floating backwards by me. I imagine she got curious and wanted to help, like when we go to dig her toys out from under the couch and she burrows under, trying to help. so I grabbed her and watched the sunglasses plunk in the water.

Now i'm pulling both idiots up the tube, trying to keep my flipflops on my feet and not lose my footing. I was able to shove Blü out of the pipe by pushing her upstream ahead of me and placing enough english on her little bum to scoot her out into an eddy on the side. Roxie in the mean time, probably spent a few brief stints behind me getting dunked by my other hand still clutching her collar and no doubt flailing in the struggle.

6.8.07

I was one of the first to buy Max a beer (online). Now it's your turn.

Every once in a while you come across a great idea. The idea can be entrepreneurial, philanthropic, eerily genious, dumbfoundingly obvious, etc. But sometimes they're all that and more. The other day, Max (aka: the guy who sits next to me...aka:my "work-wife") had one such revelation. Max, who by nature is a man of simple pleasures (drinking, rock-climbing, skiing, baking cookies...) decided to try to forgoe his amateur status and take up professional drinking. You've heard of recovering alcoholics being "sponsored" upon joining AA. But have you ever heard of an active alcoholic being sponsored?

I GIVE YOU: www.BuyMaxABeer.com

The concept is mind-numbingly simple. Click on the link above and read Max's mission statement. There's no profit assumed, no alterior motives, no carbon offsets to buy. Just click the button to buy Max a beer with your credit card. The money is transferred to Max's "Slosh Fund" which he will use ONLY to buy beer. No drugs. No sportscars. No hookers. You can even buy Max's friends beer (eh-hem) if you want. That's where the philanthropy comes in.

So check it out. You'll be glad you did. Even if you don't decide to buy one, leave a comment so we know you stopped by. ANd be on the lookout for my friend Ross's spin-off site : www.wrenchforbeer.com where you can solicit his bike mechanic skills and pay him in beer.

6.7.07

It was tough to part with this little guy. Especially selling it to a guy who felt compelled to haggle the price down.

So I sold my little BMX bike last night. I had bought it for $200 in 1997 for a commuter bike in Boston. I rode it solid for a year or two and almost not once since then. So it had to go. And although $50 seemed like a generous price to me, others contended it was probably worth less.

Anyway, the buyer drove 45 minutes up from Provo at 8:30 at night to buy the bike. He new it was $50 and he still found it necessary to haggle it down. He's a little Japanese guy so he was talking in broken english:

Him:"You take a discount?"
Me: "No, it's fifty bucks. I've got another guy looking at it tomorrow if you don't want it."
Him: "Oh....you take a 45?"
Me: [it's raining and 45°] "If it gets you out of my driveway, sure. It's raining dude. whatever."
Him: [fishing through his wallet] "You have change? I only have a fifty."
Me: "Are you serious? NO! And honestly dude, that's insulting."
Him: "Oh. Sorry. Well I have a four. [along with his 2 twenties and a ten]. You take a fourty-four?"
Me: "Fine. [snatch] Enjoy the bike."

Our yard sale was fun, even if we didn't make any money all day.

6.2.07

	We pulled into Hanksville friday evening to fill up for the weekend. This convenience store was blasted into the sandstone mountainside. » View All Pictures

5.30.07

For Memorial Day weekend Joe and I and our friends Kristin and Corey headed down to the San Rafael Swell in southern Utah. Friday afternoon, the dogs were checked into pet care facilities and the Jeep was loaded up with the four of us and all our gear. Joe was constantly reminded of the fact that we were freighted (or WF and Corey so cleverly put it) as he took the first leg of the drive down I-15. 5 hours later we were exiting I-70 and heading South on highway 24 with only ¼ tank of gas. Anyone who has traveled with me will know my obsession with having a full tank off gas when gas stations are scarce. Rather than turn around and go into Green River we decided to venture into Hanksville to fill up and get some firewood. The store was literally built into the rock (pictures in the photo gallery). Corey picked up a very stylish visor, Joe negotiated with the sales woman for some empty cardboard boxes to fuel the fire, and Kristin relished in her find of Coke Blak, a mixture of coke and coffee.

The sun was beginning to set as we scouted out a camp site on the back of the reef road. We were looking for seclusion and peace without being too far from the facilities. The site we chose was perfect, or so we thought, only one other tent in site with a fire pit and lots of soft level land. Joe and Corey built a fire worthy of a scout badge and I heated up dinner, which we enjoyed fireside. The blissful weekend that we had all been looking forward to had begun. Soon after dinner we retreated to our tents for the night when headlights appeared and a gigantic RV pulled up next to us. This palace on wheels has a master bedroom, sleeps 12, and a 14 foot garage in the back for their 4-wheelers. The contrast between the two groups could not have been greater. I find it disheartening when you travel to a section of the desert that is approximately 6000,000 acres of wilderness to enjoy peace and quiet and that is destroyed by kids riding their 4-wheelers around and around and around…get my point. I digress.

The next morning we were preparing for an 8-mile hike through Little Wild Horse & Bell Canyons. From the moment we left the protection of our tents the gnats swarmed down on us and were particularly interested in our facial orifices. Once we got into the jeep and drove to the trailhead we were free from the little buggers. The beginning of the trail follows the sandy bottom of the Little Wild Horse Wash for approximately .5 miles before you reach a fork in the trail, little wild horse to the right and bell canyons to the left. Choosing the right way we preceded through 3 miles of slot canyons where the walls of the canyons were so close we had to turn sideways to fit through. The texture of the walls is ever-changing. There are sections will thousands of holes ranging in size and shape then smooth sections with colors and textures that reminded me of mixing batter. There was evidence that it had rained lately and the foliage was lush, for this area, and we admired the abundance of wildflowers along the trail.

	Apparently driving is the best way to kill these gnats.

After the hike we returned to the campsite for a few moments and then retreated to the car for a scenic drive to scope out alternative locations sans gnats. Alas we could not find an area that the little buggers had not invaded and we drove back to the campsite with a plan. We all had a job, Joe was responsible for getting cups and ice, Corey’s list consisted of taking the rain flap off their tent and Kristin and I sat in the car with the margarita mix and Uno in hand until it was our time to sprint from the car into the tent. For the next few hours we sat in the tent, drank, played Uno and eventually took a nap. Once it cooled off a bit the guys emerge to build a fire to smoke out the bugs and kindly negotiated with our neighbors to stop driving their 4-wheelers in circles around our site so we could cook dinner in relative peace. They willingly obliged and we enjoyed dinner by the fire. Later while enjoying our beer by the fire our aforementioned neighbor came by to offer us upside down cake. (Why is it upside down?) He and his sons were genuine and kind and we chatted for a bit about the weekend and out intentions for that Sunday and the specs of their RV. It never fails that when you think the worst of someone they do something to prove you wrong.

Sunday morning we woke to the eighth sign of the apocalypse, MORE GNATS, and at this point we had had enough. We frantically packed up camps whilst swatting at the air and screaming “Bob Saget!” We packed up in record time, foregoing the eggs and tofu sausage I had planned for breakfast with the common goal of getting the out of there in one piece. We drove a short distance to Crack Canyon for our hike. It was much more of a canyonering experience than the hike the previous day. There were drops that were 12 feet that we had to negotiate our way down, some with roped and logs to aid us other times we used each other. In hindsight some of the descending lines we chose were exorbitantly harder than they needed to be. But what is the fun in taking the easy way? Back at the car we all ditched out camelbacks grabbed some snacks and hopped in, Joe the last one to get in the car began to drive out on the gravel road. All of a sudden we all hear the clinking of the recyclables bag and realize with dismay that the tailgate is open. Luckily for us WF and there were only a few items that fell out. Kristin did snap a great shot of the guys’ running back to retrieve our stuff. With all the car doors shut we drove into Goblin Valley (see pics from our last trip) for a short walk around the goblins, think mushroom like rock formations caused by erosion.

Kristin and Corey celebrated their 4th wedding anniversary this weekend.

The trip back seemed much shorter and we finally stopped to buy some of “The West’s Best Jerky” from the stand on the side of the road. It was unanimous that in fact it was the best and put the six other bags of jerky that had been bought and promptly consumed throughout the weekend to shame. Now I can’t speak for the Carpenters but once we arrived home we consumed some take-out, took showers and put Die Hard 3 in the dvd player. Almost a week later I am still covered in bites all over my neck, ears and scalp and know that once the itching ceases I will look back with fond memories on the trip and hope that Kristin and Corey will be willing to embark on future journeys with us, despite our poor judgment on this occasion. Oh did I mention they were celebrating their 4 year anniversary on this trip?

Don Orsillo and Jerry Remy call the game like two old college buddies. And since Don went to NU and Jerry's from the Boston area, it's close enough.

4.26.07

One tough thing about moving away from home is missing all the Red Sox games. Sure they're a big market team and they command a majority of national broadcasts. The ESPN games are OK, but if it's on Fox, FORGET IT. That's when you have to listen the insufferable Tim McCarver. Back east, when the Sox were on Fox, we'd turn the sound off and listen to the game on the radio. You can also keep up on-line or by watching SportsCenter etc. but it's not the same as coming home on a Tuesday night and camping out with your local commentators for a few hours. So for my birthday this year, my beautiful wife bought me the DirecTV MLB Extra Innings Package. Now I get all the games for every team. Do I care about all the teams? NO! But you can't just buy one team so oh well. Now it's like coming home to hang out with my old friends, Don Orsillo and Jerry Remy (the RemDog) on NESN.

Sometimes when the Sox are on the road, you'll get the local broadcast from that city, which can be interesting. Last night, they were in Baltimore and I got the MASN (Mid Atlantic Sports Network) broadcast. They feature the brilliant play-by-play man Gary Thorne alongside Color Analyst and hall-of-fame pitcher Jim Palmer. I was excited at first, until I realized what a know-it-all Palmer is. I can take the constant stat spewing or the second-guessing, but then he started ripping on Manny. I almost lost my mind. But hey, even when it's not NESN, it's better than nothing. Unless it's on Fox.

Recent Highlights (for those who missed them) » Jerry's air guitar goes wrong » PizzaGate: Flying pie strikes a cord with Don and Jerry » Manny Ramirez and Julian Tavarez get a little too close

4.13.07

Spring is in the air. We've had a few tastes of warm weather and we're done with snow for now. I got 42 days of skiing in this year and a few of them were epic. I may have had more if the season were a better one. But I'm still not complaining. My brother, Jay visited for a few days in early March and had some fantastic snow. A few weeks later, Sarah's college roommate Meredith visited with her husband Brian and they seemed to enjoy themselves. We recently took a trip to Melbourne, Florida for Mike Spalluto's and Lucy Boyd's wedding. That was a beautiful affair. We had gorgeous weather and a great hotel on the beach. You can see pictures of all this stuff in our latest gallery.

This past weekend, we visited Moab for the second time this spring. I headed down early with our neighbor Nicole, who used to work with me at ASC, along with her two-year-old daughter, Zoe. On Friday, Nicole dropped me off at the trailhead of the world-famous Slickrock Trail. Many trails in Moab consist of this unique beige sandstone surface nicknamed "Slickrock", but this trail made Moab famous in the Mountain Biking community. I truly remember reading about Moab, and Slickrock in Mountain Bike Magazine when I was in middle school in Maine. Since then, I've dreamed of riding it, but feared what it might do to my marriage if I should drag my wife on it. The Sandflats state park (home of the slickrock trail) offers a 2-mile practice loop that is designed to give you a taste of the full 11-mile trail. It certainly offers a significant sample, but it can't prepare you for the grind of the full-trail. I'll admit, it kicked my ass, but it was well worth it.

Sarah arrived on Friday night with along with our friends Kristin and Cory from Park City. Saturday included a trip to Karen's K9 Campground for the dogs while Sarah, Nicole and I biked a beautiful trail called "Baby Steps" which is adjacent to the Klondike Bluffs Trail, leading into Arches National Park. The trail was a tight and winding singletrack, and you could tell that it had not yet been ridden much.

Saturday night was interesting to say the least. We had a few margaritas around the camp fire and Sarah made some of her killer tacos with our camp stove. So we went to bed happy and full in our luxurious 4-person tent. Of course we have smaller tents, but when camping with the dogs, we enjoy the extra width and height. Then the wind came. As the breeze kicked up, Sarah removed the rain fly from our tent to reduce the noise. Almost on queue, it started pouring rain. So we hopped out of the tent in our underwear to put the fly back on, which was difficult since the wind was howling. When we finally secured the outer layer, it got caught in the wind and started acting as a sail. Before we could hop back in the tent, it started flying away from us. In fact the only thing weighing it down at this point was Blü. Roxie had long since abandoned ship. So Blü took a little ride in the tent eastward, toward Kansas. But we made a lunging effort to grab the tent AND the dog, and dove back inside. But it was too late. The tent's structural integrity had been compromised, the contents soaked, and we were afraid it might only get worse. Our large tent was destined for destruction, while the other smaller tents in our camp site which laid lower to the ground were mostly undistrubed. So we decided to head for the security of the car. We broke down the tent in the pouring rain and howling wind (still in our underwear mind you) and stuffed it under the car. The dogs agreeably hopped in the back and we arranged ourselves in our soaking layers into the front of the car in our now soaked sleeping bags. As we wrestled into any kind of position resembling comfort, the rain and wind eased almost magically. Birds begain to chirp and the sun began to rise. Through the steam on our windows, we watched our campsite neighbors emerge from their tents, rested and serene. They stretched and yawned as they greeted the day, almost completely unaware of the carnage that occured in their calm slumber. Their tents were somewhat damp, but had been mostly blown dry. Ours was crumpled in a puddle of mud and irony under the car. We laid, sweaty, frustrated and unrested in our trusty Subaru.

Following the incident, as we all awoke, we realized our misfortune was mostly self-induced. And we began to laugh about it as we did our best to collect and shake-dry our belongings. It was, after all Easter morning. Nicole and her husband Petie had prepared an Easter egg hunt for their daughter Zoe, which is certainly a cheerful diversion in the wet desert sand. We followed that up with a big breakfast of eggs, sausage and bagels, then casual 3-4 mile hike from the campsite to a large set of sandstone buttes named Monitor and Merimack after civil war ships. The hike was enough to put it all in perspective. Overall, just another day in the desert.

3.1.07

I'm looking for a new job.
ASC is selling off all its resorts and liquidating its assets. So I'm back on the street. Ideally, my next move will be to a similar company in Park City, like BackCountry.com. There are some great opportunities in Salt Lake, but the drive from Heber is a bit much. So as usual, to help my chances of finding something I've rebuilt my portfolio site (again). Hope you like it.

» View the Site (latest Flash plugin required)
» View My Resume
» Send me your comments

2.16.07

OK, so it's been a while. You probably thought we forgot about you. Not true. Actually we have been very busy and the winter is always tough with the short days, and busy work schedules. But notice I just put up some new photos for you to look at. That should give you an idea what we've been doing the last couple months.

Things are good. Our house is working out well. The neighborhood is great and the dogs are having a wonderful time there. We go on long walks down a dirt road where they can make eyes at the cows from across a fence and jump in the snow. They also have the downstairs to themselves as a heated den during the day. They have a couch and a doggie door. And there's nothing but dog toys to destroy since all our non-perishables and other items are stored down there in Rubbermaid bins or on high shelves. That doesn't mean they don't get into trouble, but it has certainly reduced our vet bills.

Work is good. We're actually both in the middle of some transitions we'll tell you about soon enough. But everything is good there.

The only thing that's been a little frustrating is that it's been a "relatively" dry year. This time last year, we had twice as much snow. So we may only end up with, say 40 ski days. But I also realize there's worse problems to have in life. Hopefully February and March will bring some extra snow in time for our highly anticipated visits from Patty Caret from Maine, Jay Myers from NH, and Meredith and Brian from New York.

Anyway, I gotta run. Hope to hear from you all soon.
Live well.
Joe

	Skinning up Alta's front side before they open in November.

11.21.06

Well, ski season is here again. Of course, we've been anxiously awaiting the snowfall while trying not to take for granted the charm of autumn. Early snowfalls have draped a decorative blanket on Park City's ridgeline that pacifies us each morning through our commute. Annual rituals mark the locals' shared sense of anticipation: the Warren Miller film, Off The Grid, played to a sold out crowd at Park City High School's Eccles Center; The Park City Ski Swap took over the High School as well drawing huge numbers in support of their ski team; friends have been buying gear, collecting ski passes, and comparing notes on which area might have the most rewarding hike-to terrain until the resorts open fully.

Last weekend I was baptized into the world of backcountry touring. Sarah's father, Gary had been making an almost daily trek up Alta's in-bound territory to get in shape for the upcoming season. Last Sunday looked to be an epic affair as the base was just starting to build up enough to ski comfortably and the forecast called for a few fresh inches on top. Gary invited me to join him and I couldn't refuse. Gary let me borrow a set of skins and a pair of Alpine Trekkers to create a makeshift randonee setup. Skins are directional felt straps that fasten to the base of the skis with a layer of adhesive allowing the skier enough friction to walk uphill. Alpine Trekkers are a binding insert that temporarily frees the skier's heel to walk uphill at a more natural angle, effectively converting an alpine binding to a telemark binding.

I hopped in the car at 5am to make it to Gary's house in Sandy. Despite some remaining weather and wind-blown snow on the roads, plus a stop at McDonalds for breakfast, I arrived by 6:30 or so. By 7, we hit the Alta parking lot. There were as many as 6 other cars already there. We hopped out next to Gary's new friend, Dan, a younger hippie kid with dreadlocks and a cheerful disposition, apparently unaffected by the still-rising sun. We fiddled with equipment for a while and headed up from Alta's Goldminer's Daughter Lodge, under the Collins Lift and up the main thoroughfare. Under the hissing snow-guns ice built up a crust on our outer layers, justifying any price paid for waterproof gear. About halfway up, the remaining cast of heavy cloud cover dispersed and the overwhelming but familiar sheen of the surrounding bowl was illuminated under a rich, atmospheric blue. The terrain I knew so well last year was different because I was looking uphill without definition of groomed trails. As far as we could see in all directions was untracked powder, aching to be churned by the most willing participants.

At the top, we encountered a handful of giddy co-conspirators, each praising himself for not sleeping in. This group included Dan, who we hadn't seen since the parking lot, but who was now on his second run. We exchanged friendly banter while adjusting gear and clothing to prepare for the descent. Gary and I munched on celebratory cookies Sarah had baked and packed for us and drank the last of our water. We had taken a less worn route to the top, through a grouping of trees between the top of Collins Lift and the powder field, Ballroom. There we saw such deep socked-in snow and fresh lines that we decided to keep it quiet.

We bid adieu to the other skiers and snuck back into those trees. I let Gary take the first turns and watched him float effortlessly down between the trees and stumps. With deep breath and an even deeper "WHOOHOO", I dropped in, hoping I still remembered how to turn. The plunge could not have been more worth it as I made a few quick moves and gained enough speed in the fall line to start splashing that light, Utah snow all about. We made our way down alongside of some new buddies we met at the top from one favorite stash to the next, each pitch as satisfying as the last.

At the bottom, it became apparent that we had definitely made the right decision to come up early, as there was a swarm of would be adventurers climbing up from the now full parking lot. Gary and I exchanged a high-five and headed down-canyon, still aglow from our victory. Now the resorts are opening and it's time to actually participate in a normal ski day, with lifts and multiple runs, hot chocolate and chili; all in search of that weightless euphoria. But, as with any drug addiction, the first and ultimately best highs are free.

	The new 14x14' deck is coming right along. As long as we keep feeding Gary, it should be done very soon.

9.9.06

3 months into our tenure as bumbling rookie homeowners, we’re starting to settle into our space. Knick-knacks (BTW: we just spent a good 4 minutes debating the spelling of “knick-knacks” and the philosophy behind it. Hopefully we got it right) are finding their places on shelves, shelves and pictures are finding themselves on walls, and walls are happily adjusting to their new colors. We still have some touchups and final coats left to do on the walls. But thanks in no small part to help from Patty and Gary, we can soon put our paint supplies into long-term storage, deep in the abyss of our cluttered garage. The garage and its organizational well-being are also on our “List”. Recently, we’ve been chipping away at “The List” with other learn-as-we-go conquests like adding pergo flooring, new trim and crown moulding, and hanging track-lighting, and rigging a lighting kit for Patty’s hand-made tiffany chandelier in the kitchen. We also had the bedrooms re-carpeted, and hung new blinds on the southwest facing windows of the house. Even smaller victories are cause for celebration these days. For instance: we finally cropped and framed the tripdic panorama of Gooch’s Beach we shot 2 or 3 years ago. Reversing the swing of the refrigerator door was another life-altering experience for us. But it also granted the fridge itself a stay of execution as it’s asinine orientation had us temporarily baffled as to how and why (a professional handyman) the previous owner had lived with it so long. Another ongoing more ambitious task – one we delay by lying in bed this Saturday morning with the dogs in our new sleigh bed, 40-or-so inches above the ground on our new discounted pillow-top mattress – is the development of our backyard garden landscape. The addition of a raised “lazy” flowerbed along the back fence with a stone retaining wall as well as some trees for ambiance should compliment the mother of all home improvements: THE DECK.

Down the back of each row of townhomes in our neighborhood one sees the small complementary perches attached to the second-floor kitchens and third-floor master suites. Just large enough for a small grill or a single chair (but not both) these crows-nests are often replaced by a more substantial, family-sized deck. That was our goal when we enlisted our resident wood-master, Gary. He studied other decks in the neighborhood and drew up plans to suit our needs. Our ultimate design was to be a 14x14-foot space off the second floor kitchen, with stairs down to the yard and a balustered railing with gaps underneath for convenient snow removal. Future considerations may include the integration of stairs from the bedroom perch as well. Our additional concept of a 3-story fire-pole may be met with some opposition from the town office. So we’ll have to wait on that.

After receiving our permit from the town, and approval from our Home Owners Association, we set Gary into motion. His time is now being divided between the deck, his own home-improvement efforts at their new house in Sandy, Utah, and his new job in the tool and hardware department at Home Depot. Since acclimating to his new house he has been making regular trips up to Heber to complete his mission. His progress is starting to add up. Having removed the old deck he laid out and planned the footprints, dug holes and poured cement for the footings, installed the support cleat and he was ready for the large, pressure-treated posts. Joe helped him steady those beasts as the angles all fell into place as planned. The long boards that Gary had pre-cut and stained went up next completing the first and most important structural asset, the post and lintel (thanks Art History 101). A day later, like a man possessed, Gary had finished installing the entire framework with all the beams set up in their parallel glory, outlining the actual shape of the deck. As the deck starts to come together we are excited to pick out deck furniture and have people over. What’s more is that we can see the culmination of efforts as this house becomes a home. Our home. And we have to thank Gary (and Patty cheering him on from Maine) for all his hard work and patience, helping us along the way.