Meet Ranajit

Last night I took Sullivan to the park in his stroller where I met a little punjab boy named Ranajit. Ranajit wanted to play with my dog.  The demographic of my neighborhood must be predominantly indian by now.  The experience of being a minority has been fairly enlightening for me.  One of the puzzling things for me as I know more children than adults is the names given to these kids by their parents.  They have greater meaning in the Hindu language, but in English they simply hinder.  How will these boys get through high school???

Ranajit = Victorious
Aannahswarup = Full of Joy
Abhyudaha = Luck

It's interesting to draw comparisons between our cultures; when is the last time you met an American boy named Lucky? Wasn't Hitler's middle name Victory? 

Also interesting was watching Ranajit attempt to play with my dog.  Most Indians have a great fear of dogs, apparently the only canines in India function as guards.  Most of the neighborhood kids cower away from my fierce beast but Ranajit was brave and used his hand as if he were dribbling a basketball to pet (slap) Duchy on the head.  Duchy was stiff as a board.  I showed him how to pet a dog, and scratch behind the ears, Duchy rewarded him by rolling over on her back for a belly scratch.

When it was all said and done and time to go home Ranajit asked, "Why did you name your son Buster?" 

"Because dude, Ranajit was already taken."

Deer Season

The earliest deer season in north America is underway.  I hit it hard but the sun hit back.  It was 103 degrees; maybe 115 degrees upon on the rock where I sat for hours on end.  The hike out was tedious.  Hunting the 'A' zone is a no pain, no gain scenario.

Down below, the canyon was being invaded by hippies.  I had my first sighting on the way in...at 10:30 pm I came around a turn to see hippies fleeing the reach of my headlights, they scampered into the underbrush like vampires slipping away from a bright light.  My second encounter was on Saturday, this time I was armed not with a big truck but a Weatherby rifle...the hippies we're not impressed as they dangled on their hippie apparatus....

They were slack-lining.  Slack-lining is all the rage if you are a granola eating, pot smoking dirtbag.

It is kind of neat how they achieve appropriate tension to support a dirtbag, and it looks like it'd be kinda fun.  I don't think my redneck Weatherby balance beam would be appreciated though.....I stopped on the way out while the line was unoccupied and snapped a couple pics.