The Myth & The Majesty

This morning we awoke to fresh snow. It's so much prettier when the whole crew is already in town and there are no travel concerns. So this year, from our full house (first holiday with all seven of us!) to the rest of the world, happy Thanksgiving! May your day be filled with food, family, and no technical issues that you can't overcome.

Because I am a procrastinating pain in the butt -- and because I can't seem to make up my mind how to write about my drive -- I'm going to send you over to Wait But Why again. If you've been reading here for any length of time, you know I'm a fan. This is the last Musk post and ... well. It gives you plenty to think about. Just a snippet here. Because not only does it amp up our fear in general to “s**j we botched the hunt now the babies are all going to starve to death this winter” levels even though we live in an “oh no I got laid off now I have to sleep at my parents’ house for two months with a feather pillow in ideal 68º temperature” world—but it also programs us to be terrified of all the wrong things. We’re more afraid of public speaking than texting on the highway, more afraid of approaching an attractive stranger in a bar than marrying the wrong person, more afraid of not being able to afford the same lifestyle as our friends than spending 50 years in meanin

Denver is usually my most predictable stop. That's some of its allure. It's relaxing. Familiar but fresh. When I pulled into town on Thursday afternoon, I was ready for that relaxation. So the first thing? Shorty takes me to his bouldering gym. Expectation: It'd be fun but not really my thing. Reality: It was fun and now I want to buy climbing shoes and Rapid needs one of these gyms so I can go all the time. [Deep, cleansing breath.] We followed with dinner before he dropped me off at Daz's place (henceforth referred to as the DH Hotel) and I got to get caught up with the man himself. Badly needed. Also ... lots of Disney movies. Gosh, I love staying at the DH Hotel. (The coffee is great, too.) Friday evening, after an incredibly lazy day, I met up with Mr. Rogers for dinner. Now, to clarify a few things, Mr. Rogers had gotten his hands on one ticket to the Packers-Broncos game and I had been ... peeved. (Yeah, that's the word.) Over dinner

Mentally, emotionally, and spiritually standing with you, Paris.

For those keeping track at home, in the last two weeks I've been to Texas and back. With maybe a few other stops in between. Which means that now I begin the (a) catching up process and (b) the "I-must-write-about-ALL-the-things!" process. I like (b) an awful lot more. That being said, I'd like to address something that blew up Facebook while I was gone. That is, the Starbucks cup controversy. Or rather, the overreaction to the Starbucks cup "controversy," as I have yet to actually see someone be angry about the red cups themselves. [And I'd like to point out that I'm pretty sure I would have seen someone be angry if anyone was truly offended. My Facebook friends are fairly varied in their political and religious views.] It looks like someone somewhere (perhaps someone a tad extra-traditional) may have said something and thanks to our hyperconnected modern age it immediately got blown out of proportion. The thing is ... I am a little a