Half a....year?

Well, a few days ago I remembered I have a blog. I also remembered I have neglected to write in it for a long time. Specifically, it's been almost half a year since my last post. That's rather pathetic, and I apologize to all of my faithful readers. Foremost among them is my mother. For the rest of you, though, I suppose I should fill you in on the latest happenings in my life.

Well, since my last post in August, we have moved to Tennessee, the land of Davy Crocket, an Orange football team, and the inventors of overalls. We bought a house somewhere between September and October in a little town called Crossville. Since we moved here, we've managed to fit in pretty well. For one, there is the local Library, which rocks the socks off every box. Honestly, I don't think I've ever seen a better library outside of the Library of Congress. The problem? They don't have enough books to fill it. Outside of that, though, it's the reader's heaven on earth. And I'm a reader. This library of heavenliness also includes an upper story complete with computers and chess boards. What more could you ask for?

Besides the World's Greatest Library, we've also found a really good church to attend. For some odd reason the wonderful people in charge of music at this Church decided that I was good enough to play the keyboard in the Youth Band. Of course, I gladly took the opportunity to use my talent for God, however….

I quickly realized I was way out of my area of expertise. If there are any of you out there who read music, you would think that learning a song would be receiving sheets of paper on which there were notes that you interpret to make music. This, however, is not what the average band does, apparently. I becoming a part of this band I have encountered a new type of sheet music: Chord Charts. For those of you who have never encountered this particular type of music, let me explain.

A chord chart is what you would expect from the name. In other words, it's a chart containing chords. I know what you're probably thinking, "What's the problem, Cory? Don't you know chords?" Well, yes, for the most part. But those among you who have only learned classical music tell me what in all heck this is: F#m7. The first time I arrived at band practice and was handed one of those I thought it was some kind of foreign language. "I'm sorry, I don't read Arabic." Sure, I could do a "D" fine. But I had never in my life encountered a C/G, or even an A/D#m, or a D2, etc.

Granted, I'm starting to catch on, though it's a very slow and tedious process. I still for the life of me can't figure out what a A flat sustained is. I'll continue to work on it.

In the meantime, I've also started working with the Cumberland County Playhouse. So far, I've only been cast in one performance…Camp Rock. Now, don't judge me right away on that fact alone. I realize that Camp Rock is possibly one of the lamest attempts at publicity for a Disney Band in the history of film, but it was the only play they were doing at the moment, so I figured, "Aww, well, might as well try out for the heck of it."

I didn't really think I was going to get a part, however. I just thought it would be worth the experience to try out. Despite scheduling conflicts, I was cast and have since been stumbling and fumbling through dance routines, and practicing songs that, while detestable, are rather difficult to play. In response to that, I do get to play the piano for two parts of a song at the very end of the play. But at least it's a start to a potential stage career, or at least a hobby.

In addition, I tried out for a performance of My Fair Lady that they are putting on in June. Hopefully I'll land a part in that as well so that I can stamp another play onto my resume.

So, there you have it. You're caught up on the main events in my life up to this point. Oh, I almost forgot, I ate French Toast this morning. NOW you're all caught up. :)

33 Miners in an RV

If you've been watching the news lately, you may have heard about some miners that are trapped in an RV. Well, actually they aren't in an RV at all. They're trapped in a mine under the Atacama Desert in Chile. The area in which they are enclosed is approximately 550 square feet, just a bit bigger than the RV in which I am enclosed in whilst writing this paper. Thus, I am in a unique position to relate to those miners who are trapped down there. With 33 people in 550 square feet, that gives each person just over 16 square feet each. That's about the size of the slide I'm sitting in to write this post. Chile officials have contacted submarine specialists to learn about how people should stay in shape while trapped in such a small space. They have also met with NASA specialists on how to take care of the miner's psychiatric needs. I think that might be going a little far. I sleep in a 24 square foot box every night and I don't need psychiatric help so far as I know *eyebrow twitches*.

So I do share many similarities with these trapped miners. The difference? I'm sharing this space with three other people and two dogs (one of which can take up lot of room, let me assure you), whereas these miners share that same space with 33 other unshowering people for about four months, or until a rescue tunnel can be dug. Even I have problems with just three other people. For one, my little brother has the top bunk. He can't just leap out of his bed every morning, however, because that would shake the whole trailer like we just had a 10.0 earthquake. So he has to step down onto my bed and, consequently, onto me as well (not too delicately I might add). Even my dogs are kind of hard to bear in close quarters. For example. Ginger, the biggest, gets up at exactly 4:00 a.m. every morning and starts running around the house and barking to try to wake us up so we can feed her. If that doesn't work she turns to me (of course) and licks my face. The end to every single dream I have ever had is being drowned because I have a dog that has enough slobber to run a City Public Water system for two hours.


Another difference is that as I look around I have several comforts to make living in a small space much more comfortable. For example a tv, a radio, a computer on which I am furiously typing in order to go to the library, and (probably most important of all) a toilet. With a sewer hose waiting to take any unsightly matter out of sight and out of mind. Not exactly out of smell, but that's beside the point. The miners have no such comforts. I was watching the news report and specifically saw a box of Huggees diapers being passed down through the supplies hole. *shudders* I really hope you're not eating while you're reading this post.

Despite these small (and, in one case, disgusting) differences, I just thought those miners down there having some quality time with their unshowered buddies might feel a little better knowing that someone has had experience in that same circumstance and has turned out ok.....so far.

Bingo night for criminals

Well, I suppose this is just pure spite on the part of the Obama administration. In response to my recent illegal immigration post they have officially opened what I call Illegaland (or maybe "Dozens of flags entertainment!"), a brand-new illegal immigration resort. This place has everything a law-breaker could ask for, including bingo, movie night, free cable and HD, Internet, self-improvement classes and Pilate's dance classes. All free! Well, not for the law-abiding tax payer. But for the morons who chose not to follow our laws and pay taxes, it's a wonderland! What? Send them back where they came from? Heck no! That would be just wrong! Let's let them sit here in our country and feed off of our money!







Sounds crazy, right? The worst part is that I'm not making this stuff up. If you read my blog you know I like to be satirical. With this administration, though, I'm kind of out of a job. They're being so insanely stupid with taxpayer dollars that all I have to do is report the news and it's funny to those that don't know it's the truth.







Look, if we provide these people with accommodations that are better than the place they come from, what's to discourage everyone else to come here illegally? Detainment centers are sometimes better off then most middle-class homes in other countries. Illegal immigration is ILLEGAL. Doing so means breaking our laws. Just like stealing, murdering, or any of the other crimes you can commit. How would we all feel if a thief was getting to sit back and watch Dumbo in prison? Sometimes... I just don't understand...







Coragon, signing off.

The flying dog

For those of you who don't know, I have two dogs. One is an English Springer Spaniel named Ginger, the other is a Schnoodle named Pepper(part Schnauzer, part Poodle, both miniature. The result: a really small dog). Pepper, despite being our smallest dog, is also our bravest dog. Even to the point of barking at a Great Dane across the street that is being walked by a nine year old. Not only does she have the self-appointed job of protecting us from other dogs, but also cats, seagulls, horses, snakes, rabbits, and vacuums. And...ducks. Especially ducks. For some reason, both of our dogs have an inbred fear and hatred of all birds. Pepper especially hunts them with a zealous determination. This was demonstrated at our last campground.

At the last campground we stayed in, there were many ducks. Much to the frustration of Pepper, they had no fear of leashed nine pound dogs. So, Pepper resigned herself to barking endlessly at the very undisturbed ducks until either she fainted of exhaustion or until the ducks got off our spot. Neither result was accomplished before we left. When we leave, mom usually leaves the window open for the dogs to see out. Pepper was looking out the window at the ducks and making some kind of gurgling noise that was as close as she could muster to a real growl. Something must have snapped. She must have decided to give the ducks one last scare before we left. The window of our truck must be four feet of the ground. To a small dog, that's like me jumping off the top of a one story building. Pepper has always hesitated to jump any distance, even two feet. She did not hesitate that day. She leaped out the window with all four paws outstretched like Underdog trying to get as much hang time as she could before she hit the ground with a yelp. Not missing a beat she leaped up and scrambled all jets to get to those ducks. The ducks scattered like quail. Mom, however, has been trapped in the car this whole time throwing her hands around and calling Pepper's name uselessly. She couldn't simply leap out of the car after the dog because the car doors hadn't been unlocked yet. When she finally did barrel out of the car, Pepper was still barking and running around in circles chasing ducks. The thing about ducks is they will not take flight until they are sure there is no other solution. Why? The main reason is that they are fatter then a stuffed sausage. One of the ducks went airborne and confused poor Pepper. In the few seconds it took her to figure out she doesn't have wings, mom snatched her and abducted her back to the truck. Pepper had no guilt. In fact, she looked rather smug.

Is this normal for little dogs? Or do we just have a special case?

Coragon, quacking off. (haha, get it?)

Smoky mountians round 2

We went back to the National Park yesterday. The weather was slightly rainy, so we decided instead of hiking to drive up to the highest point in the park to see the view.



The drive up was pretty, with all the flowers, streams and trees. We also saw some poor guy trudging up the mountain with a lawn mower (in the rain). On a slightly scarier note we also saw a car wrecked on the side of the road with windows that appeared to have been shot out with a shotgun.



Finally, we reached the top observation point. The bad thing about being really high up is that the most likely view is cloud. Which is exactly what we saw. So we decided to wait a bit and see if the cloud would blow over. While we were waiting, I was listening to the radio and looking around the parking lot. There weren't very many cars. Then, a guy got out of one of them and walked to the back (hang on, this story is actually going somewhere). He then took off his shirt and started rummaging around in the back. He came out wielding a bar of soap. Logically, I thought he was heading for the public bathrooms that were less than 50 yards away. Apparently, however, this guy has nothing whatsoever in common with logic. He walked around to the side of his car and started splashing himself with water from a puddle (he was standing in the rain, by the way. As if he wasn't wet enough). I ask myself why I kept on watching. Perhaps it was due to boredom. Perhaps I was just too shocked that this guy had no common sense. Whatever the reason, I will regret it forever. Why? Because after he finished splashing himself, he walked to the driver door, opened it, removed his shorts and threw them in (sadly, he was wearing no underwear). Screams echoed throughout the car as everyone ducked for cover, sheltering their eyes from the horrible hind end of Sir Showersalot. I will never get that image out of my head.



Once we were assured that the horrible scene was past and Mr. Free To Be Me was back in his car, we dared to look around once more. After a bit, the cloud did blow away a bit and the view cleared up slightly. Then it truly was a beautiful sight.



Again, I felt an odious and evil presence. My gaze was drawn back to the car of Mr. Mooner. Where just before the windows had been mercifully fogged up, there he was, cleaning them with his sock. I squealed and hit the floorboard again.



Needless to say, we did not linger on the peak. We may go back again today, and hopefully no one will get any ideas about taking a public shower.



Coragon, over and out.



"Blue moon. I saw you outside your car. Without a brain in your head. How very naked you are."

Smoky Mountains

We are currently parked in the Smoky Mountains. This was one of the main stops on our trip, and, sadly, from here we will also see our last state.

Yesterday we went on a hike in the Smoky Mountains. We took a trail to Abram's Falls. Five miles round trip. The falls are beautiful....once you get there. Don't get me wrong, the trail is one of the most beautiful I've seen. However, when the sign says "moderate difficulty", they lie. This trail is just as hard if not harder then Yosemite trail. The hike to the falls is not too hard, but the way back is very strenuous. When we arrived, it was a near perfect day. The temperature was about 80 degrees and the sun wasn't too blazing hot. Then we started on the trail.

The hike was kind of a new experience. They had log bridges spanning small rivers (along with signs telling you how many deaths have occurred on those same bridges).

At first the hike was a blend of uphill and downhill. There was plenty of beautiful scenery to take your mind off how tired you were.

Then there was a sudden increase in elevation. Not too steep, but slightly strenuous. Then, we got to the top of the mountain. From there we could see all around, and the river down quite a ways in the bottom of a ravine.

From there, the hike was mainly downhill. Due to that, it didn't take us long to get to the Falls.

The falls was a nice place to stop and take a rest, letting the cold breeze cool us down.

Then, unfortunately, we had to start the hike back up the hill. With much wheezing, puffing, heaving, and coughing, we made it back up to the top of the mountain. From there, it was downhill again. We took many more stops on our way back along the riverfront. During one of these, I looked across the river and saw three splashes. A family of river otters chose that moment to start swimming and playing in the water. Otters are some of my mom's favorite creatures. They stayed just out of sight of our camera, but if you look close you can see them under the fallen tree:

Seeing the otters re-energized us enough to finish the trail with smiles. Then we took a dive around the park for a while. I have to say, this park rivals Yosemite as my favorite park. Almost, but not quite. I still love Yosemite the most. However, if you can't go to Yosemite, the Smoky Mountains is a nice substitute.

Mammoth Cave

Despite it's name, Mammoth Cave contains no mammoths. Mammoth merely describes it's size. The name is well placed. This cave has nearly 396 miles of cave, more than any other cave in the world.

We are currently stationed in southern Kentucky. The weather is nice here. A little hot, but that's nice compared to the freezing that has been following us for the past 6 months or so.

A few days ago we took the main tour of the cave to get our bearings a bit. Legend has it that the cave was recently discovered in 1799 by a bear hunter who shot and wounded a bear, who retreated into Mammoth Cave. The hunter followed the bear into the cave, and Mammoth Cave was discovered. When we started thee tour, we walked down 69 steps (that doesn't matter until you come back up). At first the cave doesn't appear to be anything special. I've been to Carlsbad Caverns and Lava Tubes, and those caves were pretty fantastic. Once you walk through the entrance, a large draft of cold air hits you. Air is always coming in holes at the top of the cave and coming out the entrance. The cave is at a constant 54 degrees, but at the entrance it can seem much cooler because of wind. Then, we walked inside.

The cave does not have many formations due to the average dryness. The lack of water means that there are few stalagmites or stalactites. The most impressive aspect of the cave, however, is it's size. If you have ever seen Lord of the Rings, just imagine the Mines of Moria on a slightly smaller scale. Then you have a basic idea of the size this cave.

We saw many interesting things in this cave, but unfortunately we were able to take no pictures. The cave was very dark, and despite our flash we were unable to capture many images. Here are a few of them.

Fat Man's Misery:

We didn't find this too hard. Not quite as hard as some of the low portions of the tour.

Bottomless Pit:

A see-through bridge spans this deep chasm, definitely not for the faint of heart.

Hall of Records:

This area was only covered in the lantern tour, and has tons and tons of smoke-signatures on the roof. Some visitors would pay tips to the guides for a chance to use canlde smoke to write thier name on the roof of the cave.

The main tour was nice for getting the scope of the cave, but the crowd was not as pleasant (over 120 people, a significant number of them hungry, cold, tired and thus cranky toddlers).

The tour we preferred for seeing the cave was the lantern tour. This tour takes you into a different part of the cave, is more informative, and has less people. Unfortunately, it was far too dark to be able to take any pictures, so you will just have to go and see it yourself! If you do get the chance, I would strongly recommend visiting. They also provide horseback rides and trails above ground if you prefer the warm, high and dry.

Overall, the Mammoth Cave National park is a great stop if you're in the area!