Not Arkansas.
New Mexico.
Right now I'm still in Colorado, skiing like a redneck and taking horrible overcast photos.
Sometimes I spend the night at my brother Jason's house after work. He lives in Hot Springs, so often I've had to drive from Hot Springs to school in Arkadelphia using highway seven.
Lately I've been exploring a side road or two, or three, every time I make the trip. The road is steep and curvy in parts -- lots of hills and or mountains, depending on what you would define as a mountain. For people in Arkansas, it may be defined as any rise in land formation over 600 feet.
just so we're clear on that
I found this little set of waterfalls a few weeks back, and thought yesterday's cloudy overcast skies would make for good light to, um, take a pitcher with my fancy kamera.
Thursday I dragged my girlfriend to a tractor auction near Little Rock. On the way back home, Corey wanted to stop by the Caterpillar dealership to buy a hat -- a Caterpillar hat, to go with his Caterpillar liscence plate.
Me and Corey drove up to Jason's house on Saturday. He and Jordan were digging post holes with the auger, and with a post-hole digger, and using quick-krete to set the fence posts in place. We had come to help.
Instead of getting a wheel barrel and mixing up the quick-krete and water until it was the right consistency, Jason had decided to just dump the stuff directly into the holes, from the sack; pouring water in; occasionally stirring.
Me: "Jason, I wonder what Loyd would say if he saw you doing it this way?
Jason:"I know exactly what he would say. But I figure, I've got too many redneck genes in me to do things exactly right, ..all of the time."
Jordan: "Aren't those called Wranglers?"
Over the last hour and a half, I've been living off the coast of Brazil on a prison island with 600 inmates, in the Penal Institution of Cāndido Mendes.