BlathrWayne Lorentz

Bighorn sheep tracks, followed by big-ass cat tracks. Lunch is served

You can tell this is a “dangerous area” and that “this is not a trail” by the five million bootprints going around the warning sign.

Any minute now Matt Damon is going to pop up and ask to be rescued.

Lunch is down in that valley. Itʼs a 40 mile detour.

When I load photos of Valley of Fire into programs like Lightroom, they automatically crank the color down 15 notches because the programmers at Adobe in Seattle canʼt conceive of a place that isnʼt as humid and grey as where they live.

Seeing a cactus skeleton is a good way to understand how much water they store.

The large black things are hare droppings. The tiny black dots that cover everything is called cryptobiotic soil: “cyanobacteria that cement the soil together. It provides nutrients for plants and seeds, and increases the soil topography which allows greater moisture absorption. This crust is only a few millimeters thick and is easily destroyed when walked on. Recovery can take between 7 and 250 years. Please donʼt walk on it.”

Pay no attention to the 200-foot-tall rock monsters crawling out of the chasm.

“You got your limestone in my sandstone!”

“You got your sandstone in my limestone!”

Two great rocks that rock great together.

Ribbons of quartz separate the layers of sandstone.

This may be the only occasion when a tortoise has been described as having a wild life.

The speed limit is 25 MPH. Itʼll take a year to get over that mountain!

I took the Hasselblad out to the Valley of Fire today. My main lens is just about toast because so much sand gets into it on these trips.

Stag party at the Valley of Fire on a Saturday evening.

(Theyʼre actually rams, not stags, but I couldnʼt think of anything to say for “ram.”)

Darcieʼs all kitted out for adventure.

Sneakers from Barneyʼs New York.

Socks from Mars.

Darcie spent 20 minutes communing with Fred the Chuckwalla.

I have written down my memories of using a TRS-80 Model 100 as a journalist.

To keep it kosher, I wrote it on my TRS-80 Model 100.

How much knowledge has been lost thanks to the “information age?”

The entry for “Teletype” in Wikipedia is just 2 paragraphs.

The Great Presidents Day Blizzard of 2019. We will rebuild.

Iʼm glad Iʼm off tomorrow. I donʼt think you can even buy snow tires in this town.

Not my best work, but Iʼm 30 years out of practice.

Not only do kids these days not know how to rock on down to Electric Avenue, they’re clueless about taking it higher.

The kid on me thinks all this snow is awesome.

The adult in me remembers that Nevada has six snow plows for an area the size of New Jersey. And the city of Las Vegas has exactly zero.

In the street this afternoon:

Darcie says things like this are why his family doesnʼt come to our door for trick-or-treat.

Three day weekend.

Four cans of Skyline chili.

Challenge accepted.

Bull from Night Court and Lennie from Law and Order in the same 1970’s space monster soap opera.

Kids these days don’t understand that the rhythm is going to get them. The rhythm is going to get them. The rhythm is going to get them. Tonight.

Meanwhile, outside my office window, a guy tries to fix his car.

Itʼs 50° and windy, and heʼs shirtless. I can only assume he doesnʼt want to get it dirty.

Date night at The Palm with carrot cake. I think Darcie was there, too.

I went to the store tonight to buy a shirt. Hereʼs what happened at the register:

I guess someone else is running the same gag.

We only gave Citibank $326,000,000,000.00 in taxpayer money for its bailout. Maybe if we all chip in a little more, Citi can fix its web site.

I searched Amazon.com for “easel.”

One of these things is not like the others.

Sometimes I think I should sell my house.

I wonder what the landlady would think of that.

When I think of all the money Iʼve spent at Starbucks over the last quarter century, I feel like Howard Schultz owes me an ambassadorship or something.

Meanwhile, outside my office window, in the middle of traffic…

Itʼs backup day, which means a stack of USB drives USB driving.

It reminds me of when I ran a node of ARB BBS with a bunch of Commodore 1541ʼs winking and grunting through the night.

Drove my father nuts.

I just found a USB memory stick in the dryer.

This is why old computers were better. Nobody ever accidentally left a floppy disk in their pants pocket.

Is it wrong that when I order something online, I choose the complimentary gift wrapping and include a nice note to myself?

Yes, reusing plastic shopping bags is one way to save on airline baggage fees when visiting Las Vegas.

But in case your oversized TJMaxx carrier blows out a block from your hotel, disgorging all of your worldly possessions onto sidewalk, you might want to have a Plan B.

This is what happens when a homeless guy watches too much Marie Kondo on Netflix.

At least he has the sense to keep the waffle iron.

I donʼt often have nice things to say about Google, but Iʼd like to thank Big G for playing along today.

I came across this house on my way home from church this morning.

At first I thought it was over the top. But the Chinese dog statue and Bart Simpson really tone it down.

Iʼm fascinated that Gladys Knight looks like she might just outlive us all.

I mostly stopped shopping at Target a while ago because it hardly ever has anything in stock.

I tried again today. No change.

It canʼt even stock the most basic of basics: eggs, sugar, flour, and cooking oil.

I think I’ve figured out why three-year-olds in Target shriek like it’s the worst thing thatʼs ever happen to them.

It’s because they’re three years old, and going to Target probably is the worst thing that’s ever happened to them so far.

Iʼm not sure that 60° and palm trees is exactly a winter storm, even in Las Vegas.