Thanksgiving Eve

It is the night before Thanksgiving, and while the place is odoriferous with the scent of the garlic mashed potatoes I whipped up (literally), it isn't turkey that's on my mind. No a different animal is crawling inside my cranium, one that probably isn't as tasty but quite a bit more testy. I've been thinking about scorpions. Particularly a very large, very old one.



If you haven't seen/read/listened to the news the past couple of days, scientists who have nothing better to do than use miniature hammers to tap/tap/tap at rocks and brush away the earth's crumbs have discovered the fossilized remains of a claw belonging to this creature of antiquity.

Reading about it reminded me of my two notable scorpion encounters while living in Oaxaca. Without digressing - I know it's the title of the blog! - let's just say the first story involves Mexican Raid. No, not a raid by Mexicans, we're talking about the nifty cylinder of death for all arthropods. But since this is south of the border where this tale takes place at, this isn't your over-the-counter can of bug moribund. This is the chrome can sans label. This is the stuff you keep away from children unless you particularly don't like them or really want them to take a nap after being fussy after lunch.

And the scary part is this noxious brew under pressure DID NOT KILL the scorpion. Here I am afraid of having any of this stuff get in contact with my skin or clothing, less they both begin melting away.

Mr. Big Black Scorpion, he just stopped, opened up his pincers and got pissed. Needless to say, we left El Escorpion Peligroso alone and gave him as much space as needed.

Not the scorpion in question


The second story involved a late night trip to the bathroom. No mind you, the room in the house we were renting in Arrazola didn't have the bathroom connected to the building. You had to walk across the courtyard. And mind you since we are in a rural village out in the valley, I usually didn't use said bathroom at night for a quick zip down. I just found a tree, shrub, something.

Our bedroom is on the right


However the family we were staying with were up at a late hour for them and we were talking. So being polite, I grabbed my headlight and trekked over to the cinder-block structure that held the toilet. Halfway through aiming dead center, I looked over at the wall and noticed to my discomfort a just-as-beefy scorpion on the wall, INCHES PEOPLE, INCHES from my little alacran, which was getting smaller after the discovery I must say. I never wanted to be done with Trabajo Uno so badly in my life.

Off to Copper Mountain on Thanksgiving for a few turns before working Thanksgiving night. I'll be giving thanks if the 8 open runs aren't crawling with tourons. Friends Dana and Duke went today and said it was more like dodging than riding; they bailed after two runs. I just know I'll be bundling up:



Happy Turkey Day everybody.

ARTIST OF POST - Mike Doughty. Former lead singer of Soul Coughing and one of the few musical choices Tasha and I ever could agree on.