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The beans have some heft

Dan and I have just launched the new site, heftybeans.com. Help us out and give us some suggestions. Also, join the blog at heftybeans.com.

roll down the windows... I need to vent.

From a blogger,

"It sucks to be on the outside of allegiances. Girls are supposed to be nurturing and loving, but I have never met a more vicious species. They are secretive, fake, and backstabbing. Often, one female (the one with the most issues and instability) turns into a mastermind, brainwashing the rest of her naive followers. One by one she will add to her mob. There is no stopping a group with a mob mentality. If they are programmed to kill, then they will kill. What options are there for the target of this irrational attack? Be one against the mob? Can one really stand alone, and for how long? Form your own alliance? Then how far beyond their level will you have to fall to win? Sacrifice your life in protest of the fight? When does it end? How does it end? The struggle continues each day…"

The hardest place

I recently read an article about Aron Ralston, the man who cut off his own arm in order to escape from a canyon in southern Utah. I wondered to myself what it would take to do such a thing. Would I be able to break both bones in my arm, cut through the skin with a dull knife, and walk five mile to help? Would I have that kind of resolve? What kind of person does it take to make that kind of sacrifice in order to save themselves? I ask myself, if I was in that kind of situation, would I be able to amputate my own arm, or leg, or someone elses arm in order to save a life? I don't know.

Twinkle Twinkle Little Star

While in houston I went to the neighborhood pool for a swim. I went to the bathroom and was in the middle of doing the duty when I heard the voice of a small girl talking to her dad in the stall next to me. I didn't know what to do. What was I suposed to do? What is my duty in a situation like that? If I had know that the child was in there I may have waited to start until after they had gone. But it was too late. Once you start, you can't stop. It stings. Was it my fault in etiquet, or the Dad's? Should dads take their daughters into the mens' room, or is it soley for men? I think they should have a special bathroom for families. A one room, lockable bathroom where parents can take their children without worrying about having to explain why that man can go to the bathrrom standing up and she can't. It should be done.

IDIOT

I washed and dried a load of laundry with a pen in it. Anyone know how to remove ink stains from clothes? I've read a bunch of stuff on the internet but I want to see if any of you have tried some of these remedies. Such as spraying hair spray on the stains.

We've got to carry each other

"The easiest way to do something is just don't ask anybody's opinion..."
-Bob Dylan

Pretty profound.

Body Movin'

As I sat down to arrange my new desk on the top floor of our building I felt the ground shake. My body tensed up and I looked around at everyone and everything. I have trauma. Every time a truck drives by, or the air conditioner turns on, I feel the feeling. My stomach turns and I worry. This all started on 4, April 2002. My first earthquake. I was sitting in a small apartment in San Salvador, Barrio Las Palmas when it hit. I thought it was just a truck driving by, but actually it was a small earthquake by the time it hit us, no damage was done to property or people, but I would never be the same. The more these small earthquakes, or tremors, hit the more tense I would get. Sometimes jumping out of the bed in the middle of the night to find cover. Little by little the feeling of a truck driving by turned into the thought that this could be the next big one, a destroying force on El Salvadors landscape. Twice in early 2001 devestating earthquakes hit El Salvador, and hearing about these only made me more aware. Now, as trucks drive by my office I get those same feelings, hoping, praying that one day they will come full circle and I will once again be disinterested to the point of ignorance.

Saved by the Thrift Nickel

Grant used to wear pumas. Now it's been 3 plus years since I last saw him I don't know what he wears. After what I heard today he may be using leather tied around his feet. Or he may be barefoot, and being the outdoorsman that he is, may have such caliced feet that shoes wouldn't matter, only in times to protect himself from disease.

I don't know how to describe Grant to you. What I remember about him is that he wrote music that made me think of an acid trip. For example, let's say I took an iPod with me out to the yard to mow. I start to play one of grant's songs as I start my mowing path. All of a sudden the mower turns into a fire breathing cow... But the fire it breathes comes out in shades of yellow, blue, green, and red. These flames flow forward with tracers that make me feel like I'm watching an earthquake on an animaniacs cartoon. That's what Grant was like, minus any form of stimulant. It was his natural personality.

I'll relate a story as I heard it from a friend...

"So Grant is up in washington still. No school. No work. And he is rarely at the place that he is paying rent. So he thinks to himself "Man, if only i had a place where i didn't have to pay rent then i wouldn't be out so much money." So he looks in the the thrifty nickel ads and sees that there are two old toyota vans that probably won't run... for free. So he goes to check it out. He opens up the first one, and it is filled with "biblical proportions" of hornets. So that one was a no go. Then he checks out the other one. It doesn't run, but he adds water in for coolant, puts a screwdriver in the ignition to start it, and it runs! So he drove his van down by the river where he now resides with all of his secular possesions."

Geoff said he heard about this from another friend who heard from Grant himself 2 days ago.