Ah, the domestic life.
I've got about a week off after the conclusion of my stint in Gila Bend and before another project coming up in Green Valley (south of here) beginning on Wednesday. This one includes one Lyle Stone, a big name in the local archaeology circles, especially if you're my thesis bibliography! Maybe I'll have him sign my Mobile Railroad Line site report. Golly!
Anyway, a nice, quiet Saturday night -- just got done watching Escape from New York, listening to the Moz's latest, and sipping egg nog that hasn't quite ripened into the Christmas beverage it shall be a few short weeks from now. A perfect time to ruminate on the past week or two (cue wavy lines).
One pretty cool thing about being an archaeologist is that you have, from time to time, access to areas that you normally wouldn't. I've spent the last three weeks wandering around on or near a bombing range on Luke Air Force Base near Gila Bend. The first two weeks were spent basically walking around, although I was officially demarcating archaeological sites so the Explosive Ordinance Disposal units (the military bomb squad) wouldn't drive their hummers over them while looking for 500 lb. duds. From the tire track evidence, both the EOD and illegal immigrants are driving all over everything out there, but we bother because it's there to bother over.
Last week was spent on something a bit more substantial, actually taking stock of a large petroglyph (ancient images pecked in rock) site -- off Range One, but still within hearing distance of the explosions and short bursts of 20mm rounds coming from the fighter jets sharpening their killin' skills. I spent most of my time there running around with a stadia rod, taking elevation points and soaking up the November desert deliciousness. As soon as Statistical Research, Inc. green lights a no-shirt policy, I'm getting myself a killer fall tan.
Speaking of SRI, I'm getting the feeling that I might finally be making an impression in the archaeology field -- talk has been bandied about there that I might be appointed crew chief in the not-too-distant future. I'm gonna have Survivor singing "DREW! DREW DREW DREW! DREW DREW DREW! DREW DREW DREEEEEEEW!" behind me in no time! Until then, I'm hoping business keeps up over the holiday season enough to keep both employed and awash in presents to give. At least now I have time to sit down and write out all those thank you cards left from the wedding. Didn't I already thank you people?!
And I don't want to talk about the Cardinals losing the World Series. I'm happy for the Sox, but dammit, that shoulda been a Series for the ages! Ah, hell, don't start cryin' again...
And the writing is continuing apace, but there's no real way I'll be doing the however many words I'm supposed to do. I think something more important's happening anyway, in that I'm successfully shaking the rust off after years of creative inactivity on any large scale. I like the story I've got going, and I'm getting the previously deafening choir of negativity to calm the hell down, so all's coming along. And that's the real spirit of the exercise, is it not?