Harmony

Flying, for me, might never get old. At least I hope it doesn't. I still get butterflies before I fire up for the day. And when it's been a while since I've flown the feelings are even stronger. Last weekend I went home for a few days then came back to Eagle Lake to the rice contract. I had trouble sleeping the night before I was set to fly again. It wasn't nervous energy, or anxiety--more like that excitement you feel at the beginning of a relationship when you are waiting for the next time you're to see the person.

But nothing compares to the feelings I have when I'm actually flying. Having been an athlete for years I am very physically aware of and in control of my body. But nothing I've done athletically ever gave me the satisfaction I get from making the helicopter do exactly what I want it to do. With almost indiscernible movements of my hands and feet I make a machine that is said not to fly, but to beat air into submission move with such a violent grace that it seems more an extension of myself than a separate entity. As with my body, all I have to do is think about what I want the aircraft to do and it begins to do it. After all, moving your legs to walk isn't a conscious effort. And in the same way that I feel my feet and hands move and my heart beating I feel the aircraft--the vibrations from the main rotor, the tail rotor, the engine, the way it reacts to the wind and to my control input. Both hands, both feet, both sides of my brain constantly perfecting the balance between lift and weight, thrust and drag.

New, Fun Stuff!!

I'm all giddy. Here's why:

-Mainly, I've been flying. It isn't until I go fly again that I remember just how damn much I miss it when it's been a while. I really, really need to get myself a more steady gig and keep moving down the road to becoming a full-time heli pilot. Which leads me to the next thing that has got me all a'flutter:

-New business prospect(s)!! More on this when it's more concrete. I'll just say this, it involves helicopters AND photography! What more could I want? (Maybe to take Buddy, but that will happen eventually)

-New running shoes and feeling pretty darn fit.

-The move back to my old 'hood, possibly even my old house that I love love love!

-The fact that, thanks to Austin Art Garage, I have sold artwork before it's even been hung. My prints are ready to be hung and I should be up on their webpage within the next day or so!!

-I've had the little boy dog for a while now and will have him for a while more. Good quality time. He is asleep with his super soft snout on my foot right now.

-My super duper kind of new peeps Jon and Amy. Love spending time with these guys.

...From SE Texas

Whoa. Two months since a post, sorry 'bout that.

I've been in Eagle Lake, Texas for the last couple of weeks and likely to be here for a couple more. Flying the rice contract again. Fun stuff.

Austin Commuter Challenge

Since you asked, the Austin Commuter Challenge coincides with Bike Month (May) and encourages people to trade vehicle trips for bike trips. Regardless of distance, anytime you ride your bike rather than turn your car key you get to log a trip. There are team, individual and family "competitions". Those with the most trips at the end of the month win mad bragging rights and cheesy trophies to drink beer out of, or I suppose juice for the families.

The majority of people's trips are within 2 miles of their homes, and 90% of those are made in their vehicles. So I read.

Since I've been commuting to work I've slowed down enough to notice just how many people are on bikes around Austin. Today I passed a little old man cruising Shoal Creek Blvd. (my route for about half of my commute) and said, "Morning". He looked a little surprised to see me next to him, but emphatically responded with a, "Good Morning!" Then a lady pushing a stroller on the other side of the street looked over, smiled and said Hi even though she was on the phone. A second lady who was running, sans cell phone, did the same. It was incredibly refreshing and put me in a really good mood first thing in the morning. It's still an uphill battle to be recognized out there though, as I was cut off twice in a row at the same intersection in Tarrytown, which is a very quiet, pretty slow-paced neighborhood with a lot of runners and walkers out every day.

About half-way through the month I've gotten in 78 miles in 14 trips. Not great, but not shabby either. Hopefully I'll be able to at least double that by the end of the month.

May Is Bike Month...

Which coincides with the Austin Commuter Challenge (some of you may have your own commuter challenges in your oh-so-progressive cities). It's given me extra motivation to make the 8+ mile each-way ride to work as frequently as possibly when I don't have the pup.

How's it going? I get to start my day with a metabolism boost. I spend less on gas and less time being annoyed by the drivers on Slo-pac. I get to cruise through some of Austin's finest neighborhoods. Stop at my favorite coffee shop on the way. I hear birds, I breathe the beautiful Spring-time air. On the way home it's usually dusk and honeysuckle is heavy in the air, which is refreshingly cool. Plenty of fresh laundry smells to sniff along the way as well.

It's so, so liberating and simple. Riding home tonight I took a different route than I normally do. At least on the rides home, I try to vary my route just a little each day. More than simply a means to an end, my bike ride provides me with a pinch of exploration wrapping up an otherwise normal day.

One Word, 15 April

OK. Thanks to Carly and her intraweb finds, here's a blog for you. String of conscious style writing prompted by a given word that you can find here

Coaster brakes on bikes are so much fun. Remember when you were a kid and you'd pedal pedal pedal as fast as you could just so you could lock up the brake and slide as far as possible and see how long a skid mark you could make on the asphalt or better yet the gravel in the driveway.

Posted on: 08 August 2009

After being around so many fake, rude, dumb, mean, unable, unwilling people, it is the good ol' boys, with their smiles and their jokes and their hard work and their true happiness and their truly care free attitudes, that make me love being around man. They remind me that there are real, live people who function as I do and value the things I value. It is these guys who made those days some of the best I've ever had.

6 March, 2010

One of those good ol' boys is gone. Bless him, and his family.

Pre-Occupations

It's been raining for two days straight and is supposed to rain every day next week. I'm not sure where it's all coming from, but it's keeping me indoors mostly. Forced productivity is ok with me, if I can't have sunshine.

I've created a Fine Art America print-on-demand account. So anyone who is interested in buying a print or print on canvas, stretched or not, can go to my profile and choose their size and printing options.

Check out: http://fineartamerica.com/profiles/rachael-cook.html

In other news, Mom is going to be in Austin all next week for her teachery convention. Which is excellent because I will probably get to go have drinks with her--always a hoot.

Lucky her, getting hooked up with tickets to the ACL filming next week. Trying to figure out how I can crash it with her.

Ramblings and musings are all, really, for this post...

Deadwood has had my almost undivided attention, and I'm on to the third season. Best. TV. Ever. Ever. Period. More to come after I finish the series.

Pace Bend Camping Trip

Commenced with a beautiful sunset.



Still a little muddy after the rains, getting loose in the corners.



New Teeter-totter to play on.



Buddy testing it out.



Beautiful weather and trails had us both excited.

Christmas 2009

First white Christmas since 1926, so I heard.






Bryan, Evan, Jake, Lynn


Major Major Major


Buddy loves Christmas


Our House

The New Ride

Happy late birthday to myself! Super stoked to have a new ride. Pump tracks, girlie jumps, street rides commence!

I don't like eggs.

And I don't like that many veggies. So why is it that when I ask for a breakfast sandwhich with no eggs, and instead ask for bacon, do I get charged extra? If I were to add eggs to an eggless sandwich I would be charged the same as adding bacon. So if the two cost the same, doesn't reason suggest that I could swap them without penalty? And when I ask my friends at Thundercloud subs to leave the complimentary veggies off my classic club, but please add a pickle, they hit me with a 50 cent* charge. I mean, I'm saving them money by not taking the veggies, so it all evens out. Except that it doesn't. There's no justice in the food world.

*So I'm blogging this from my iPhone and I don't have a cent sign on my keyboard. So I
considered my options of a) writing it as $.50 or b) as I wrote it. I chose the latter because not only does $.50 look totally goofy but also because it occured to me that this blog might get some extra traffic from people accidentally being directed here while googling 50 Cent the rapper/badass/personal guilty pleasure. I realize that is totally pathetic (not that he is one of my guilty pleasures, but that I am using his name to get more blog taffic.) I should really get over myself.

Pace Bend Park Ride

Have ridden these trails before, but they were MUCH better this time around. All the mud reminded me of my childhood when my brother, his friends and I would slide out in the puddles and jump off culverts into muddy water holes.

First time back on the bike in far too long. Good company. Beautiful weather.

After the first long, muddy descent:






Mud running down over the socks:


End of the ride:

Ghost Dog On The Loose!

Buddy is in the Halloween spirit!





Looking long-faced because I interrupted his costume chewing for a pic.



Oh, and all that stuff on the floor? Ghost Dogs LOVE their beer boxes.

My Dear Friend, Duct Tape--

Why is it that you insist on popping off at me, when I apply you to your position? I know I stick you on flimsy, ugly brown boxes, but please do cooperate.

Even though you are in for a forgettable, dark ride to already visited places, and, upon arriving, you are likely to be given another dark, probably humid home, it would be nice if you stuck it out with your newly acquired, cubic companion.

Because you see, even though this may feel like a very lateral move for you, I assure you that greater things await. You may be lonely in the mean time and you may defiantly turn up your edges. But I predict that when you finally find your home, you will be quite resistant to removal.

--Your Fellow Weary Traveler

What's In A Name

So a couple of days ago, I was walking to my truck--most likely to go to the coffee shop. A car drove by and as I glanced up, I thought the girl driving resembled a girl I used to play softball with on my travel team. Chrissy and her twin Reeca played on my team when I was a sophomore and junior in high school. They were not from the same town I grew up in, but my dad was friends with their parents and good friends with their uncle before any of us were born. In fact, my brother Evan Douglas is named after their uncle Joe Douglas Wilson.

Often times something very specific will catch my attention and remind me of something else. Usually, it is something that only I notice and is usually a product of my weirdo imagination. So I didn't think much of it.

Until today when I checked the mail. There were two wedding invitations addressed in fancy script to a house with one digit different from mine and Wilson's. I can easily see how the postman would make the mistake. So I figured instead of having them go through the return process, I'd just walk them over. One of the invitations was addressed to some name I had trouble pronouncing and the other was addressed to Mr. Kevin Cook and Ms. Chrissy Wilson. I hopped onto Chrissy's FB page and sure enough, she's engaged to Kevin Cook. So I walked the invites down the street to the house I drove by earlier today that was hosting the garage sale that I ALMOST stopped at.

So I rang the doorbell and her roomie answered. I asked if Chrissy was there. She was sitting on the kitchen counter and could see me from across the room. She made a funny face and her roommate goes, "Sorry, she doesn't know you."

"Oh. Yes she does."

From the Flight Back, 23rd-ish March, 2009

Incomplete account:
(Corresponding Photos)

After being around so many fake, rude, dumb, mean, unable, unwilling people, it is the good ol' boys, with their smiles and their jokes and their hard work and their true happiness and their truly care free attitudes, that make me love being around man. That remind me that there are real, live people who function as I do and value the things I value. It is these guys who made those days some of the best I've ever had.

Baseball Rant

Money is destroying baseball.

Here's the deal: A century ago, the starting pitcher threw every pitch in 88% of games played. Managers left the starter on the mound, win or lose. It was his game. But by the early 1920s, about 50% were complete games. Only 22% by 1979.

Last year, only one in every 35 starts resulted in a complete game. That's 2.8%

What's going on? There is now a widely held belief in baseball that making a pitcher throw more than 100 pitches per game will wear out his arm significantly faster than if he only throws a few innings per game. With clubs investing millions of dollars in their starting pitchers, teams can't "afford" to lose pitchers to injury or early retirement. (Even though the pitchers probably won't stay with the team for long anyway. Since, we all know there is more money out there for free agents. I mean, I know I'd be dying to find a better deal too because, I just don't know how I could possibly live on $3 million a year. Plus, few players show any loyalty to their clubs anymore. And they certainly aren't thinking about their fans or the city they play for.)

The business of baseball has become disgusting. Wouldn't it be nice for an owner of a ball club to invest in up-and-coming players and quality coaches that would be the foundation of the organization? The guys who want to be good ball players, not the ones who are just out there to get rich. If an owner were to do this, it wouldn't be just a team anymore. No. It would be a franchise. An institution. It would be classic baseball.

I could continue this tirade and explain the fallout from this evolution that makes baseball largely unbearable for me, but I'll save it in case I get REALLY desperate for blog material.

What the Hell are Beaver Nuggets???

I am disturbed.

Maybe you've heard of Buc-ee's convenience stores. There are several of them in the middle of nowhere along Texas highways. But they will be on your mind hundreds of miles before you reach them. Why would a gas station be on your mind for so long? Because of the bucktoothed beaver billboards that impose themselves on you every few miles along your route. Example: "ONLY 262 MILES TO BUC-EE’S. YOU CAN HOLD IT."

I have been to Buc-ee's in Luling once before, which I just learned covers over 10(!) acres. It was a quick, in-and-out stop months ago on a trip from San Antonio to Louisiana. Saturday morning I was driving from Houston to Dallas. I was in need of some petro and some breakfast. I saw the signs. I stopped.

I don't think I can adequately describe this place, but I will try. It is a freaking carnival. A carnival with necessities. Because clean restrooms are preferable, and I knew they would deliver. (In fact, as I walked through the store, looking at the tile floor, I was thinking that the place might be cleaner than my house. Which is saying a lot since I live with an obsessively clean person.) This place is the size of a truck stop, but no trucks are allowed. And it stays packed. They have everything from Buc-ee's venison jerky to "specialty coffee".

When you walk in this place, you have to pause for a minute, take it in a bit and actually plan your attack. I needed breakfast tacos. So I walked 100 feet across the store to the counter. Under the heat lamp all I saw were egg-laden tacos.
R: "Can you make me something without eggs?"
Lady at the taco counter: "Sure."
R: "Great. Here's what I want."
Lady: "No, no, no."
She pointed behind me. "There's where you order."

It was a fucking kiosk. A fucking KIOSK!!! And there were 6 of them! Apparently, they even have them at the gas pumps so you can order your food while you pump your gas. Taken from their marketing firm's website: "With this kiosk, you have a blurring of the lines between restaurants, gas stations and supermarkets." I don't know who these people are, but the only time I use a kiosk is to check in at the airport.

This was just WAY too much. While I waited for them to be fixed, I headed across to the coffee counter. I had to have more information. I stopped to talk to one of the girls making some sort of old-fashioned sugar coated popcorn. Her name was Lindsey Lou. No lie, that was on her name tag. And when I asked her how she felt about Buc-ee's she replied, in the thickest southern drawl I have EVER heard, "It's a lot for this small town." I could tell I wasn't going to get the answers I was seeking. I ordered my coffee, I grabbed my tacos and headed to the checkout. Maybe this young man would be more help.

R: "What do you think about this Buc-ee's experience? Because I can't quite wrap my head around what is happening here."
Young man: "It is pretty crazy. I was headed to San Antonio not too long ago. I wasn't going to stop at the Buc-ee's in Luling, because I work here. I get enough of this place. But I saw the signs, and I gave in to them."

I felt like I should get the hell out before I drank the kool-aid. As I got on the road, Roger called, and I expressed my thoughts. I asked him for his. "When you plan a trip to Buc-ee's, you know you're fucked." Agreed.

On down the road I went. Cringing a little as I devoured my semi-automatically generated breakfast tacos.

Thought @ Work

Recently I have had several strange things suddenly occur to me.

1. I was walking into work the other day alongside a few of the guys. Walking to punch the clock. All of a sudden, I got the overwhelming feeling that I was in one of those old depressing movies where the men are going to the mine they work in for the job they hate. The job they do to put food on their family's table.

I don't work in a mine. And I don't hate this job. But it is mindless. The nice thing about this is that I don't have to take it home with me. But it is frustrating to do this kind of work when I have a degree. And four helicopter ratings. And my drive. I have to remind myself that it pays my bills. It's just that I am not satisfied with "just paying the bills".

2. Similarly, I find myself in another place when I go to Paramount Theatre. Well, not place, but time. In this instance, the experience is grand.

I have always enjoyed seeing movies by myself. My favorite place to see a movie, above Alamo even, is the Paramount. And typically, I go there by myself. Although I have made a couple of exceptions lately, because I can sometimes be a nice person. But this really isn't important.

My point is this: When I'm watching a movie from 1934 at the Paramount, I feel like I am in 1934 at the Paramount. Even though I am in flip flops, shorts and a tank, I feel as though I am sitting amongst men in tailored suits and fedoras, discarding peanut hulls on the floor. In my mind, I hear the movie reel turning, I see dust hanging in the air and I feel a trickle of sweat on my temple, even though I am actually freezing because the theatre is kept so cold these days. I remain there until the curtain closes and the noisy teenagers begin to file out. This is the kind of time travel I really enjoy.

3. Two years ago I got a call from my best friend from my childhood. She called to tell me she was getting married. At the point, if you asked me which of my friends would be the first to get married, Amanda would never have crossed my mind.

Two days ago Amanda had a son. I have not seen them yet, but when I thought of her holding her tiny new baby, I got the strangest feeling. Amanda's family is my family and mine is hers. I am happy that she had a boy, because, if it were a girl, she was going to name it Emory. Emory will be the name of my first child. Emory is my second family's name.

Amanda and I are a year apart, and we grew up in different towns, but our lives have largely mirrored each others. So it was strange when she agreed to marry. It is also strange that I am now (arguably) married. But her having a kid!?! Now, don't get me wrong. I think about eventually having kids. But she has one now. I don't have to tell you what enormous significance and consequence that comes along with. Not that she isn't a responsible person, but it is quite surreal to think of her in that way, because, now, she will never be apart from that image. And that image is very much incongruous with the image I have had of her for the past 10 years.

4. It is also surreal to pass a vehicle with Disabled Veteran plates and see that the driver is someone I might see at a bar, a handsome young man nearly my age.

Summer Breeze, And It Makes Me Feel Fine

I am in Houston. I am exhausted. Naps in the middle of the day used to be my thing. They are quickly becoming so again.

Typically, when I do nap, I stay away from the bed. That's just a bit too pathetic for me. The floor is a good spot. So is the grass in the backyard. That is, until the stupid effing ice cream truck comes into the neighborhood with its abhorrent music blaring.

But, while I'm at Wilson's, the bed is the best place. My room here is wonderful. Red wall, minimalistic shelving, iron and dark cherry wood frame bed with red sheets and my favorite kind of down comforter. Huge western-facing windows so that the afternoon sun can keep me company. And curtains suggesting just the right breeze.

Behold, my afternoon domain,

I'll be alright long as I ain't seen it all

As I was listening to Death Cab while working today, which I haven't listened to in a long time, I was thinking about how freaking deep their songs are. It got me to thinking about this bloggiddy blog here, and where I was when I began it. Well, not so much about where I was then, but where I am now. Very very far from there. Like those songs, I was in a deep place for a lot of reasons, but mostly, I think, because of lack of reference. And I was putting a lot of importance on the things that were happening. There was not a lot of hope or happiness trickling in. It was all buried somewhere deep inside.

Now, I am certainly still deep and analytical and "depraved and perverted". But geez, I think I've come a long way. I am incredibly happy and stimulated and fulfilled. And yes, I still think about some things way too much and get wrapped up in my sometimes silly ideas. But I feel like I have a lot more discretion and am more rational about things that are happening around me. I may or may not believe that, but I do feel better these days about my fucked up little reality.

I have a restored faith in a few of the more important people in my life, I am being creative, and I feel in control. And, I'm not holding on so tight to the things that aren't up to me.

So as I take in a confident breath, I relieve a sigh of contentment.

Dinner:

Meat. Beer. Perfect.

Update

I'm in Houston doing logistics for Bacardi Mojito parties. Got the pup with me and the lady's in Galveston--close enough for a few hours of seeing each other.

Last night we went to the Bacchus Wine Bar for a glass. It is one of the places we went last time, and it is a little gem. Music and good vibes at the sidewalk tables with a young crowd, but not frat-y or douche-y.

I tried a few new wines. I ended up going with a Marlec whose maker I cannot remember. But also tried an excellent Paso a Paso. And the Professor Black.

Northwestward

I've been wanting to take a road trip up to Vancouver for a while. Now that I'm working 5 jobs, maybe I'll have enough money at the end of the summer to actually make it happen. Wish me luck. Oh, and if you want to contribute to the "Rachael's Summer '09 Road Trip to Vancouver" fund, feel free. Seriously.

Here's the proposed route up there:
View Larger Map

And the proposed route back:
View Larger Map

6000 miles, 4 and a half days of actual driving, plus all the time taking pictures and exploring, chatting with locals, takin' it in. I want badly to take Buddy with me to see it all, but I don't think he would ever forgive me for making him spend that much time in the truck. He's already sick of driving to San Antonio all the time.

I really really want to do this. I guess I'd better find a 6th job. Anyone hiring??

This One Goes Out to Carly

I don't get why my friends disappear when it I ask them to spend time with me.

It makes me love Carly-Ann even more for calling me up and telling me she booked a ticket to come see me. From Vancouver. When we'd never even met face to face.

Where to begin?

Ok kiddos. Well, it's been a while eh? A lot has happened since the last post back in August. Let's ease in with the toes...

• I got my Instrument, Commercial, and Instructor helicopter ratings a week later.
• Carly came to see me!
  
• I went to New York with Molly.
• I turned 23.
• I started a business, and, subsequently, it got its own blog. See rachaelcookphotography.wordpress.com.
• I graduated, finally.
• I flew our helicopter up to Oklahoma. I stopped at my parents' house on the way, and was able to finally give my mom the flight she'd been wanting.
• I missed out on a lot of work and a lot of flight hours due to some very unfortunate timing of the the helicopter being sold.
• I downsized my bike collection. Now it includes only the one I rode to Alaska. If you know me, you know this is tough to swallow.
• I planted a garden and some flowers and some grass. And built a dog house that the cat likes.
• I traveled to Europe with Molly.
• For about two weeks, I seriously thought I was going to become a State Trooper. Then my quite convincing inner "you know you're not going to be happy with this decision" spoke up.
• My photography was accepted for exhibit in downtown McKinney. See Orisonsart.com.
• I met some nice new people and reconnected with some nice "old" people.

As daunting as it seems to resume this blog, I might have found some inspiration. More to possibly follow soon.

Finished Product

Getting the spacing right...
With the back rest up...
Hot Dog...
Stained and on the porch...
I'm sitting on it and drinking a beer as soon as it's dry...

For Carly...

The latest project

I will put more up tomorrow (maybe) when it's finished. Still need to put on the back rest and stain it. I might stretch it into another 2 days so I have something to work on.