Flesh is willing; but I notice a disturbing trend in blog posts these days. I am going through the week kinda busy and only doing my posts weekends. That’s not really good for me. Its funny tonite though. I’m sitting in a Vagabond Inn Hotel in Sacramento over by the California State Fair and have found a hotel at a level that I would never book. Light switches that don’t work. A desk with no power outlet. Uncomfortable beds and furniture that sags. Perhaps as my wife says I am spoiled by nicer class hotels like Marriott or Hyatt’s. I do like business class hotels with business comfort and roomy room service. I like international hotels in Singapore with almost instantaneous service. This place is creepy. We’re only here for a night though and on a mission of mercy.

Now I’m sitting at the bathroom door; laptop in lap. Beer iced and drinkable and thinking. I watched the sun do its retirement tonite and I remembered so many days in the field as an archeologist watching it. Days in the Mojave; afternoons in the Sequioa. Evenings in the Sierra. Wonderment in the Great Basin. What became of those years? Simply memories that I cull up when the mood strikes. I miss them though. I miss the best part of anthropology which was the cowboy science and the looking at incomplete things and forming pictures. Truly archeology is a record of trash and dumps and converting it all to behavior. I’ve always felt that those prehistoric cave painters were the ancestors of the blogger today. They reached to a pinnacle of expression and found a cave wall. It became their canvas and paradigm and speech network. They marked their world in uncertain hues.

I traveled that world, saw the record, and ate home-cooked rattlesnake chili many times. Drank way too much beer and considered the wonder of a sunset with a bunch of people that fell silent at the same time. Was there some bond or boundary that no one crossed those days? Yes. There was. I have never seen the same boundary and bond today. Computer technologists don’t possess the same joy, frustration, and love. Because archeology reaches to a depth of the spirit and rewards.

I’ll hoist my beer to all those I knew, that I dug with, that broke bread with me. I’m still here guys. I’m sitting in a bathroom blogging.