Guess where I’m going tomorrow-through-Sunday?

Here are some hints:
- It’s 1,000 miles from my dear, sweet north Idaho home
- It’s one of the very last places I want to be in the midst of economic turmoil… and frankly not somewhere I like to be on a good day
- I can’t take my guns

If you guessed CALIFORNIA, you are indeed correct! And, to make the whole situation even more objectionable, Mike isn’t going along. Oh, and I have to fly there.

And Sunday is Mike’s birthday, so I’ll miss most of that.

And deer season starts on Friday, so I’m missing opening weekend.

Fortunately, I’m flying Southwest and they haven’t tacked on any checked-bag fees… so I intend to pack along a bug-out bag for good measure. If things get hairy, I swear I will commandeer a vehicle and head home most ricky-tick.

Everyone cross your fingers there’s no fan-shit contact before next Monday, eh?

Utah’s love-hate relationship with alcohol:

So far, I’ve learned:
- A fifth of Smirnoff Vanilla Vodka and a six-pack of Guinness Extra Stout cost the same price.
- The only alcohol available at the grocery store is beer, and only if it’s 4% or less.
- They do, however, sell a microbrew called “Polygamy Porter,” with the slogan “Why have just one?” - it’s pretty good, too! (This is only funny to people who know anything about Mormonism… But the microbrews come in a case of 12 called the “Quorum of Twelve.” Bwahaha.)

Photography/modeling:

Yesterday Kelly, the three kids, and I went all over hell’s half acre doing photo shoots. Theoretically we’ll be doing more of the same today. I was really happy with how they turned out - here are the three that have been proofed so far:

Horses:

I’m trying to befriend one of the fillies they have here at the house; she’ll be up for sale sooner or later and I’m considering the logistics of acquiring her… or a horse in general. Unfortunately, she doesn’t like any of the treats I’ve offered up, and otherwise thinks I should stay out of her bubble.

Now for the important stuff - GUNS!

I need more time with my pistols. A lot more time with my pistols. I went out with my cousin’s husband and their nine year old daughter - the accompanying arsenal was as follows:
- BB gun :)
- Ruger 10/22
- Some fashion of .223, I didn’t look too closely
- Springfield XD-40 Sub-Compact
- Kel-Tec P3AT
- Beretta 92
I fired all but the .223. My after-action conclusions are a) I want a 10/22, because they’re just too much fun, b) I need more time with my pistols… a lot more time, and c) I shot approximately twice as well with the 9mm than I did with my .40. What does the last one mean to me? I need to get my ass to the range more and put in more time with my .40, as well as improve my sighting. I have been hitting consistently low, so after modifying my sight a little bit I started to hit a little too high - but better. It’s going to require some fine-tuning. Now, as much as I like .40 as a home/self-defense round, I can definitely understand the draw towards 9mm for competition shooting.

However, this is me we’re talking about, and I think pistol comps will come long after rifle comps. :)

Southwest Airlines

And I always do. And I always regret it.

The latest round of drama has started, and I’m not even to the airport yet. I was talking with my cousin tonight, and she mentioned something about me being there for St. Patrick’s Day. Um… no, I’m going to be in Seattle at a pub, not Prohibition County, USA - c’mon now. She swore up and down that my itinerary said Monday to Monday, so I went and looked it up - lo and behold, that’s exactly what my confirmation email said.

Here’s the problem: I made a reservation for Monday to Friday. I guarantee I did not select a flight on the 19th, for two reasons - 1) I know what day St. Patrick’s Day is, and I made a point of choosing a flight that would return in time to celebrate in Seattle. 2) I have to be at school and work on Monday - I wouldn’t choose a flight that had me getting into an airport five hours away on Monday evening! It doesn’t make any sense, and for once in my life I am absolutely positive that I did not screw this one up. Somewhere between the confirmation screen at Southwest.com and the confirmation email that came to me, something got switched.

So, I called Southwest, and to make a long story short there was “nothing they could do.” I’m sure they don’t believe me - they probably get this kind of thing all the time, and I have no way of proving their system switched me instead of screwing it up myself. To change my flight to Friday cost me $94. I’m thinking the $100 I spent at Victoria’s Secret today was a mistake… (Okay, no, that was a necessity. I seriously needed new bras… I just wrote “bars” instead of “bras.” Time for the twelve step program for me…)

Anyway, if this were just a matter of being here for St. Pat’s, I might have said screw it and saved myself $94. I have to be back for school and work, though, so I had to change the flight one way or another - chalk it up to lessons learned, the lesson being “Don’t buy tickets through Southwest Online EVER AGAIN.”

I will be writing a letter to Southwest expressing my displeasure; I’m a fairly frequent flier and I’m disappointed their service is taking a turn for the Alaska/Horizon style. I’m hoping though customer service was all “nothing we can do about it,” somebody in corporate will at least spot me a gift certificate or something. If they don’t, I doubt I’ll be flying Southwest again for a long time.

Google

Get this - yesterday a Google search for Laurel Zimmer brought up LaurelZimmer.com as the #47 result. Today? I’m #1. That’s quite the jump - I didn’t expect to shoot up in the page rankings that fast. Lucky for me, there apparently aren’t any famous Laurel Zimmers (no offense to the other Laurel Zimmers out there) so for once my uncommon name is actually helping me out.

300 - Again

We (Sara, her friend Chad, and myself) went to see 300 today. It was the second time for both Chad and me, first for Sara - I cried like a baby again. This excursion also gave me the opportunity to discuss World of Warcraft with Chad, a fellow player, and watch it go right over non-gamer Sara’s head. I love that. :)

A word of advice: if you find yourself drinking in a location where the aggregate age of the females present is greater than thirty years younger than you, PLEASE DON’T HIT ON THEM.

Do not ask them to dance, do not touch them, do not otherwise engage in creeper-like activities.

No love,
Laurel

P.S. Wilde Rover in Kirkland will have fifty kegs of Guinness for St. Pat’s. Guess where I’ll be? The place is owned by a bona fide Irishman, too - and staffed by a couple. Almost feels like home. :)

As soon as I get off my lazy ass and get my stuff together, I’m going to be off to Kirkland, WA (the greater Seattle area for all you non-Pacific Northwesters) to visit (aka go drink with) my dear friend Sara. My trip shall entail the aforementioned drinking, some shopping, seeing 300 again (somebody explain to me why in the blue hell it isn’t playing at the Seattle IMAX!?), getting new tires on the pickup, and some other things.

On that note, this will be the inaugural long-trip voyage of the blue beast… well, the blue and gray beast… with the one gray quarter panel… My truck is so awesome. Anyway, wish me luck, as it really needs new tires and I’m hoping I don’t encounter any sort of problems along the way.

Sara currently lives in the stone age and doesn’t have any internet access, so my posting may be sparse or non-existent until at least Monday; then I’ll be in Utah at my cousin’s house, and should be able to pick things back up.

Speaking of going to Utah, I’m flying the unfriendly skies, which means I get to do the really super fun (sarcasm) “I’d like to declare a firearm” - err… “I’d like to declare two firearms” dance. This time around, however, I’m going armed (pun intended) with a print-out of federal firearms laws, so when the TSA agent demands my pistol case keys like they did in Denver, I can say “Hell no, and here’s the documentation that proves a) I can’t legally hand those over and b) you don’t know even what you’re doing, you fascist automaton.” I’m not a fan of the TSA, in case you couldn’t tell.

Off to pack!