There’s a nice hike you can do in the Taos Ski Valley that starts near the Bavarian, an Alpine restaurant and lodge stationed near a ski lift terminal at around 10,500 feet elevation. I snapped a quick photo of it as my wife and I walked by it toward the trailhead. My plan was to look at this later if my legs grew tired and my resolution failed. It would be inspirational – something that would help me through any unexpected pain with its promise of nearby civilization. And German beer.

The hike is actually pretty short, maybe 2 miles from the Bavarian to Williams Lake. The terrain starts with small rocks which have likely claimed many an ankle, but then quickly becomes matted pine humus as you walk through tall, lichen draped lodge-pole (or maybe ponderosa?) pines. I don’t know pines, so I cannot say for sure. There are a few clearings early on that let you see for miles, and you hike near a small, literally babbling brook while the trail meanders through pine and aspen stands.

At one point, the stream crossed the trail, and just off to the left an exposed permafrost snowdrift melted slowly in the cool July 5th shade. Its waters bubbled out to join the larger stream heading downhill along the trail I had just walked.

The climb to the lake covers about 500 feet of elevation and tops out near large rockfalls studded with the occasional tuft of pale violet Columbine.

There are really no adequate words to describe the beauty Williams Lake. You arrive and the vista opens onto bowl nestled among the peaks of surrounding mountains, all still showing patches of snow. In this bowl sits tiny Williams Lake, at about 11,000 ft. We lingered for a while, sitting in the grass in the mountain sunshine. As we started our descent, we found a couple to take our picture. Early on the way down, we met several hikers who were climbing in the opposite direction, and we gave them words of encouragement, “You’re almost there,” and they would smile back. Not long after, however, we had progressed too far back down to provide meaningful inspiration, so we just said hi to those we passed.

About an hour into the walk back down I realized that I was hungry, and that we still had a bit farther to go. There was a little panic at first, thinking that I wouldn’t be able to complete the hike. But then I remembered my picture of the Bavarian, so I dug out the camera and paged back through the more recent shots to the one I snapped earlier of the lodge. There it was, with its wide front porch, shallow pitched roof, and yellow coat of arms, a device with two lions surrounding the central shield. I knew I could make it, that I would be able to keep going, and that all would be well.

Soon we arrived back down at the trailhead, and then passed beyond back to the Bavarian. There was a waterfall coming down along the Kachina ski trail, but we bypassed it and headed for the lodge. We both ordered tall Spatens, and I decided to try Wiener Schnitzel from the menu. For some reason, I love saying Wiener Schnitzel – using my best (aka barely recognizable) pretend German accent and stressing the V sound of the leading W, as in, “Ve haff vays of making ze Viener Schnitzel talk.”

When the plate arrived, I was a bit surprised, since I had always thought Wiener Schnitzel was some sort of sausage. The Schnitzel was a thin cutlet of pork, breaded in panko, and fried. It sat on a rustic potato mash, and was served with fields greens and lemon. I let my initial surprise fade, and chalked it all up to simply being an idiot who never bothered to dig deeper into the mystery that surrounded Wiener Schnitzel. Not a sausage dish, but breaded and fried pork instead. I never knew, but after the strenuous morning jaunt, it was exactly the right thing at the right time. That little unexpected pleasure, on top of the rest of the day, made it clear to me that civilization hadn’t completely vanished, or run amok while we were walking in the woods.

Wired and a couple other sites have picked up on insurance.com’s list of the 10 most dangerous foods to eat while driving.

1. Coffee. It’s hot. It can spill. That’s bad. That said, we’re guilty of this. So are you. Admit it.
2. Hot soup. It’s hot. It can spill. That’s bad.
3. Tacos. Very messy.
4. Chili. It’s hot. It can spill. That’s bad. And it’s very messy.
5. Hamburgers. Greasy hands and a steering wheel do not mix.
6. Barbecued food. Um, that should go without saying.
7. Fried chicken. You think burgers are greasy?
8. Jelly or cream-filled donuts. Ever bitten into one and not had it squirt all over the place?
9. Soft drinks. Big threat of spillage, says Insurance.com, and unacceptable risk of “fizz up your nose.” Huh?
10. Chocolate. It melts on your fingers, which makes a mess on the steering wheel.

You can tell this comes from an insurance list. How? Because it’s BORING. It’s also wrong. Who the hell eats coffee or soft drinks? Nobody. I suppose eating coffee while driving is dangerous since the coffee has to solidify, and this either requires dangerously low temperatures or such a long period of time that you’ll fall asleep at the wheel. Ironically, that’s a danger that you could avoid if you just drank the coffee in the first place.

We’ve come up with our own list of dangerous foods. I think you can agree, these are probably much more dangerous to eat while driving than those listed above.

10. Spam. You really need 2 hands to open the can, unless you want to slice a finger and bleed to death. Either way, you die.
9. Raw Oysters. Again – you ever try shucking with one hand? Can’t be done.
8. Fresh Main Lobster. These are dangerous enough when seated at the table. Clarified butter makes these a lethal driving delicacy.
7. Chitterlings. Anything made from intestine is dangerous to begin with. Add the amount of tabasco reuired to force down chitlins, and you’re begging to wipe out.
6. Apple Jacks Cereal. By itself, these aren’t too dangerous. The tune lock you’ll suffer from the Apple Jacks jingle will have you looking for a tree to plow into.
5. Outback Steakhouse Aussie Cheese Fries. Just don’t eat these while driving. You will die of a coronary, and probably crash into a busload of nuns.
4. A jar of mayonnaise. Extra danger points if you lick the spoon.
3. Fresh Sea Urchin. You’ll probably stab yourself to death trying to get to the tasty bits.
2. Molten Lava Cakes. Don’t let Paula Dean fool you. The original recipe calls for real molten lava. Can it get any more dangerous?
1. Yes it can: Pork Brains in Milk Gravy. The real danger here is that you’ll probably kill yourself to get the taste out of your mouth.

You’re at a party, and the lights are flashing, the music is pumping, and people talking, laughing, clapping, dancing, and then a rumor starts: somewhere, out of sight, someone might have puked. Like a wave it moves through the crowd, touching everyone as they consider, “Oh no, I may be next”, and they swallow nervously, not wanting it to be true, but with that tentative swallow, they know the truth: they could indeed.

In true whisper-down-the-lane fashion, everyone does their part to pass the rumor, but the details change and morph as it goes, and the rumor becomes more grandiose, more twisted. First someone simply puked in the kitchen, then they puke on someone in the kitchen, then they puke while dancing with kitchen knives, then someone is almost stabbed and pukes in self-defense, and then … It doesn’t end, but builds and self-organizes. The rumor becomes a living thing.

Then the rumor is on everyone’s lips, as they share their own distorted versions, and argue over the details that don’t add up. Witnesses to the event are brought in and consulted for historical accuracy, “No, there were no knives involved”, and “no, it didn’t really look like tapioca pudding.” But in the noise and growing hysteria, these observations are misheard or misinterpreted, and are then woven back into the narrative, giving it new life: “Yes, a witness just confirmed that it looked like some kind of awful pudding.” Someone else gags, and the crowd holds its collective breath, as everyone hopes to keep their bile down.

And then there’s the confirmation, indisputable evidence that at least part of the rumor is based on actual events: Someone finds a small, puddle in the kitchen that smells badly. It doesn’t really look like tapioca pudding, but there are little pearls in it that could once have been nourishing. But it’s strange, and maybe there’s too much of what was clearly someone’s salad, and there’s an overabundance of saliva.

Even after it is cleaned away, there’s a nagging odor in the air: it’s not quite vomit, but not quite not either. Like that odor, the fervor of the rumor wanes, but doesn’t quite go away as the unanswered question lingers in an otherwise festive night. Some ass drank too much, or too fast, and now we’re paying for it with our suspicion and doubt, and our own internal efforts to control the reaction we feel in the back of our throats. We accuse one another of being the perpetrator, start new rumors about someone else’s guilt. Fingers are pointed and voices are raised. How could you, or you, or you, be so inconsiderate? How could he, or she, or they not control themselves better? You’re disgusting. I always thought you were a pig too. Way to go, pal.

And feeling much better, the dog is back in the yard, eating grass again.

The recipes in question – including Ahi Tuna with Napa Cabbage Slaw, Passion Fruit Mousse, and Farfalle Pasta with Turkey Sausage, Peas and Mushrooms — were all credited on the website to McCain’s wife Cindy. Another recipe also appears to be very similar to a recipe of TV personality and chef Rachael Ray.

Not wanting to offend anyone, the McCain campaign decided not to pursue legal action against The Food Network for it’s blatant theft of the cherished McCain family recipes, but instead chose a course of honor, and fired one of its own gifted young interns, 62 year-old Brendon McSwipy of Scottsdale.

The Food Network, home of several famously popular cooking shows including Ciao America with Mario Batali, and Good Eats with Alton Brown, has once again been caught wielding its near monopoly power in the TV-Food world for evil. Rather than hire their own chefs and create original recipes, their operatives we able to break into the McCain family kitchen compound in Phoenix, and abscond with a treasure-trove of McCain cooking history.

The Alabama House of Representatives approved a bill on Tuesday that would allow the sale of “Gourmet Beers” that contain higher levels of alcohol than currently allowed by law. A group of beer enthusiasts calling themselves Free the Hops lobbied for the change, saying that without such a law, Alabamians would only be allowed to buy cheap, tasteless beers in the state.

Under the new bill, which passed by a slim margin of 48-42 in the House, beers with an alcohol content up to 13.9% could be legally sold in Alabama. Supporters of the bill say that such beers are sold in most states, and that making such beers available in Alabama would be good for state tourism. Opponents claim that the bill would kill Alabama’s children:

“We are killing our young people,” Rep. Richard Laird, D-Roanoke, said.

Arguments like this completely miss the point. Critics suggest that kids will “find a way” to drink the more expensive beers if they’re available, all the while ignoring the fact that kids don’t need beer to escape their pathetic, angst-ridden lives anyway. Instead of worrying about underage drinkers beer preferences, our lawmakers should try to remedy the social forces that drive children to drink in the first place, while improving enforcement of existing laws against underage drinking.

Beer drinking is not only legal in all 50 states, it’s a celebrated part of our culture as well as a booming industry. Underage drinking is already illegal, so increasing the menu of beers that the underaged cannot choose from shouldn’t have a large impact on underage drinking rates. Instead, providing good beer in Alabama improves the choices available to law-abiding patriotic beer drinkers throughout Alabama.

You know who you are, representative Laird.

Don’t get me wrong – I abhor drug use of any kind. Coffee, well … That’s another issue entirely. It’s the only legal way there is to get 32 hours of work done in a day. Rise and shine, kiddies, time to hack some strong crypto.

I once tried to go an entire month without any form of caffeine. I became tepid and sluglike. I was inert, without energy, and my mind moved at hypoglacial speeds. There was no spark, no witty reparte’, nothing.

Some of my former employees claimed to have liked me better during that month. They said I had a newfound Type-B personality and that I could probably begin to appreciate email greeting cards and and feng shui. When I got back on the brew I saw them for the completely doless slackers that they were, so I fired them.

Of course, I bought each of my remaining employees 10 pounds of primo Jamacian Blue Mountan. Productivity is up 22% and the smell of profit is in the air. Yessiree. I Love Coffee.