One More Writer

I woke up this morning to the sound of a jackhammer at the window. Ugh. Eight-oh-four in the a.m., and some jackass is using a jackhammer?

But that's just part of the joy of visiting Klamath Falls for the weekend, land of high desert, pickup trucks and Saturday construction projects half a block away.

I came down for my buddy Cory's birthday. He's hit the ripe age of 25, and by my estimation, drank his age in beer, Jag and whiskey last night. Needless to say, he didn't hear the jackhammer this morning.

Being back here, visiting friends in Klamath is a wonderful thing. You know, there were a lot of things I hated about this place when I lived here and worked at the newspaper. But visiting, seeing the area through the eyes of a visitor, all I see is the rugged beauty of this place.

Tonight I played volleyball with a bunch of Cory's work friends up on one of the hills overlooking the city. My team was awful, but it didn't seem to matter as I watched the sun set over Klamath Lake, painting the surrounding hills shades of pink and red.

Well, it's time to head down to the bowling alley and see some people I haven't talked to in almost two years. It's good being the out-of-towner, for a change.