So I was in Las Vegas for Thanksgiving. Great. (read: Great period)
So much better than I expected. I mostly slept on the couch. I ate a lot of food. We watched movies, played Wii, RL bowled, ate out, went the the mall on the strip, walked the strip, enjoyed grandma's cooking, and got reacquainted with all my cousins. So it was great.

I am going to eat no sugar these holidiays. I'm saying it here so that it's written down.



I've been wondering if I should give up meat too. I wish could hunt bison.



Why don't Indians have bison for thanksgiving? That would be something to look forward to. Or what about deer?



Happy Thanksgiving. I'm going to be having Hispano-Native-American Thanksgiving. I just hope there's tamales.

I've succumbed to my day-laborer side. I am officially a blue-collar worker. I wear a blue shirt with my name embroidered on it. Everyday I wake before the sun and am on the road in my four ton truck before six am. On good days I unload my full truck, all 16,000 pounds of salt.
My first two weeks I worked with someone else. He showed me where the sites I'd be visiting were and helped me get my feet under me. Everyday I was exhausted. My arms and back got sore. The joints in my hands and wrists hurt. When I wasn't working I was sleeping, or eating.
At the end of the two weeks, I felt pretty good. I was finally getting use to the work, and we were getting home early. That's when I started to work alone.
It was just as bad as when I started working, except the days were longer. I averaged fourteen hours a day. I stopped riding my bike. I had already stopped working out. I stopped my life other than work. I began to question whether or not I could really do this. But, little by little I saw progress. It kept me going.
I still get tired, I still eat all day, and I still wake up before the sun, but I have two months that tell me I'm man enough to do this.


"How You Gonna Keep 'Em Down on the Farm" by Andrew Bird