Tomorrow I head off to Chicago with my good friend Julia, who tends towards shiny objects, for a weekend of just screwing around. She wants to see wacky roadside attractions, I want to go to a Cubs game.

Long ago I had started to go on a grand tour to all (then) 28 major league ballparks, but didn't make it when my younger brother's back went out and he couldn't continue. It was right after college. I put all my stuff in storage and we hit the road, but after hitting all five ballparks in California I had to take him home to Denver, where I hung out for a few weeks before returning to Berkeley, mostly because of a girl. I've been living in the bay area ever since.

Anyway. While packing for this trip, I pulled a bunch of pictures off my camera, including these taken during an ascent of Mount Tamalpais in Marin County, at the instigation of my friend Tom. I look reasonably alive in that shot at the forest fire tower at the top, but I felt like dead meat. Forty-five miles, vertical climb of over 2,500 feet. Gah. I can't really believe I actually made it.

It helped that I'd been commuting to my new job on Caltrain and bicycle. I've since given that up; three to four hours a day spent commuting is just too much. Bought a car and everything.

Ramble ramble. Time for bed.