What a weekend! Apart from hosting our first community group on Sunday where Ryan said he was thankful he doesn’t get nervous talking in front of people because my eyes were boring into him (I was a ball of nerves the whole evening, thankful though of how easily he can talk to groups) and coming down from the high of realizing how well we all did fit together, a group of believers in different stages of life committing our time to study and pray and support each other over the next year. Both tears and laughter were shed this first night and it’s amazing to me how quickly strangers can bond if only just a sliver of vulnerability is shown.
But aside from all that, Ruthie turned 7 today. She actually got teary-eyed last night, her last tuck-in as a 6 year old.
In an effort to push back against the me-me-me that we all have inside us and hoping they learn to appreciate experiences with only a few friends, I’ve pretty much opted out of parties. You know they’ll end up wanting the exact opposite later on and that’s fine too, just hoping a piece of this gets stuck in their psyche. Last year, Ruthie asked her friend Kalyn to go canoeing with their dads who are also good friends. Ryan was hoping that’d become a tradition, but this year we asked if Kalyn could spend the night on Saturday and she did! They chased after cats and fireflies, helped me make noodles for dinner, tore apart a pinata, and had a pillow fight.
Ryan slept.
They all crashed in one big bed after watching a movie and woke up in the morning when Annie farted really loudly.
Our favorite donut shop was closed this morning, so we had to forgo our donut tradition and had chocolate chip pancakes instead, Ruth’s second favorite.
I asked Ruthie to choose a couple friends from school to take through a drive-thru safari today. I decorated the van with streamers and leaned into the jabbering that only 7 year olds can create. Their endurance is admirable.
Annie thought it was her birthday because I let her sit up front with me during the safari. She couldn’t believe how big the windshield window was. The emus made us scream and anytime we saw one ahead, the race to roll up all the windows and hide below the window was intense. But my favorite moment was when an employee cut up an apple, opened up the gates just for us to feed the giraffe and they all ooohed and ahhhed….over the cat lying on the bench. That literally proves that you don’t have to do jack for a good time at this age. My gawd, Ruth, you have four cats at home.
As I’m typing this, I hear classical music in the living room along with squeals and laughter and I’m imagining them reenacting their ballet class with dear-ole-dad.
Thankful for another year with my kind, shy, funny Ruthie. I like you.
Gertie is asleep. The girls organized the toy room and are now watching a movie and I’m doing what I love to do: planning. Will these ever come to be? Maybe, maybe not. But this is my favorite part of the process. And it feels different this time because I’m forcing myself to take it slowly. Everything in dotted lines are the far future, but we do have 1 garden bed, a new chicken coop, and compost bins.
Here’s our first and only garden bed for next year. I’m excited about it. My back goes out a lot, so we’ve decided to raise the bed to a standing/sitting-on-the-edge height as a preemptive strike. Beyond it, to the right, are the fruit trees with more to come. A Dogwood behind the garden is a sweet place for a bench. Mandy, my gardening/chicken-raising/bee-curious soul sister, walked me around the backyard and suggested a layout. I will forever love her for that.
Behind the bench and tree, in the sunny spot near the two chairs will house our new chickens. We’ve missed having those silly girls around. I kinda want to mix up the breeds, but also feel like I should stick to what I know. And we do love our Buff Orpingtons.
We never really used this side of the house very much, so it feels like a new property in a way. So happy.
We’re free. I guess they’re free, but really it’s us. We let George & Ginger (the ever changing names, but I think these have stuck) out today and everyone came back at night except for Ginger. I went to the gym and after coming home, started a mini search party with a flashlight, eventually finding her up in our big gum tree. Way up. Ryan said to leave her, but I politely asked that he put on his shoes and climb the tree to retrieve her. He did. And we got her. And it was such a big hullabaloo.
I love these pics of Annie. Of her in mid-skip and smiling so big walking toward me. She’s enamored with this dress because it has pockets. The girls are feeling better, thank goodness. It’s been a long week.
I never had my camera around with Gertie today, but we had such a good day walking and swinging and sitting on a bench outside feeling the wind around us. She walked all over the driveway and into the backyard while the girls rode their bikes by her and she wanted to go through the grass into the more open space. We’ve started working on some things for next summer, only one single raised bed and planning around that because I’ve realized that I need to do babysteps to be successful at anything. But seeing her push through the grass always gets us wanting to move forward our plan of crushed gravel paths in the backyard for her (and me. and my pinterest boards. and my daydreams of winding through pockets of wildflowers.) Our local master gardener group is having a plant sale and I’ve pre-ordered some fun things: milkweed (there is a butterfly garden at our art museum with milkweed as its star and ever since our latest walk through it, Ruthie has been begging me to get some), Black-eyed Susan, Echinacea purpurea, Elderberry, and one I’m most excited about: Nanny Berry bushes. They said it’s native to Missouri and makes a nice hedgerow with pretty leaves spring/summer/fall as well as produces berries that can be eaten off the bush or canned. I’d planted a row of lilac bushes in a couple areas and our mow guy mowed them all down despite them being marked (ugh!) so these Nanny Berries may do the trick. I am falling in love with flowers!
Back to Gertie, she also moved out of her crib onto her floor mattress. I knew in the back of my head it was the beginning of the end for naps but I’m ready for it. I laid her down and it only took a few minutes before she crawled out of bed and knocked on the door. I’d open it to put her back in and she’d try to bolt (awkwardly and slowly – if you can imagine it, it was funny), but I’d pull her back in. Finally I just let her go and she crawled down the hallway repeating “Night Night” over and over. She’s a stinker.
Tomorrow she has a botox appointment to relax her eye muscles, allowing the one that’s pulling her eye inwards to loosen up and straighten out. We’ve done it before and it seemed to work a little bit. Her doc doesn’t like to rush surgery and we are definitely on board with that if there are other options to try beforehand. All I know is Ryan has to take her in at 5:30am and I’m thanking the heavens above it’s not me.
Ryan had a business trip so we went to KC for the week.
They listen to audio books in the car and one of our favorites is Winnie the Pooh (Judi Dench, Stephen Fry, & Geoffrey Palmer!!). I don’t remember ever getting into it as a kid, but these stories with the fun voices has me hooked now. And it’s a million times better than hearing If You’re Happy and You Know It over and over.
Anyway, the new movie about Winnie, Christopher Robin, is very sweet. I cried within the first 15 minutes and Ruthie said she cried during it too.
We’d been trying for years to catch this darn train. Finally did and Gertie was not a fan. The rest of us were though and we went around 8 times!
While Gertie and I took a break, one of the adorable volunteer workers came over and talked about how she’d raised a disabled son. She then cussed about the weather and thrust a bottle of water in my hand. It was a meeting between me and my future self.
The rest of the time was spent shoe shopping, playing with cousins, and binge watching shows, none of which I took pics. I need to be more aggressive with the camera again.
The day after Ryan flew back to KC, we drove from there to Oklahoma City and visited our friends that’d moved from NWA. Ruthie dove off the diving board and Gertie, I’m not exaggerating, kicked her feet and arms until she swam by herself. It was maybe for 6-12 inches, but still. She loves the water so much.
We pretty much didn’t stop talking for 48 hours. 30 of those were me going on and on about her garden area and backyard (there’s not many who will gladly talk compost and chicken poop with me), 16 about the meals and ginger drinkie poos, and the remaining 2 hours me thinking I’m funny because of those ginger drinks.
At one point Annie had to go pee so Mandy told her to just pop a squat in the yard (another reason we’re friends!) right by the fence. Annie, in her own special way, decided to go in the middle of the front yard right as a car drove by.
I hardly saw these three girls the whole time. It was nonstop mermaids and dolls and dress up clothes.
On our way home.
We drove through Siloam Springs and decided to show Ruthie where she was born. We made a big ole deal about the home there, in the countryside, on a dirt road, surrounded by cows. We laughed so hard thinking of what she was picturing. So we slowed down and showed her her birthplace.
And for proof that she is indeed my daughter, she didn’t care at all about what it looked like. She gasped and squealed and said she loved it.
I love enthusiastic people, Ruthie. Thank you.
Sitting here watching the Cavaliers in the finals and feel the need to document my mom’s love of LeBron James for her grandkids to remember. Motherly love. Crazy stage mom love. “He got them to the finals but he can’t DO IT ALL” in a hysterical, they’re putting too much pressure on my boy text today. It makes us laugh. All because of the documentary made about his childhood and, after watching it, it does make you appreciate his heart.
Anyway, it’s what makes her interesting I guess.
My neighbors gave me two tiny orphaned kittens she found on the street bc apparently I’m the neighborhood cat lady. The vet whispered (because Ruth and Annie were next to me) that there’s still a 50/50 shot for survival. He also said don’t get the vax shots unless we’re keeping them and when I said we were going to just foster for a few weeks, he looked at the girls then back at me and said Uh huh, I’ll be seeing you for the shots.
They’ve already been named Ginger and Petunia. I really don’t know how my life got to this.
Woah. These introverts had two weekends in a row where (don’t say it too loudly) people stayed over. I guess we’re only semi-introverts, because we sure do love company.
First up was my sister. She arrived Valentines day, just in time for me to receive a chocolate-covered strawberry delivery from Ryan. It was sweet. I think it was a groupon too. He remembers, when we were dating, me saying, $5 LIMIT! Looking back, I should’ve milked that holiday.
In walked Amy and Wiley. Ruth loves dogs.. and took advantage of following Wiley around whenever she could. And both nights Wiley would lay under the table to hide from her. That night we celebrated Amy and Des’ birthday. February is the gauntlet of birthdays in our family. Every day from Feb 11 to Feb 15 a birthday is had. Apparently May 7 to May 11 is a happening time between lovebirds.
I can see that. The birds are chirping, the breezes are blowing, the kids are still in school for a couple more weeks so let’s get it on before our energy is zapped all summer, yeah… I see the romance.
Anyway, we had the birthday girls over and celebrated with a sundae bar, complete with a bucket of ice cream and a candelabra.
If you haven’t heard (you must be living in a cave if you haven’t), this is my year for surviving. I was just happy candles were anywhere in the vicinity. I’m scared that Ryan may just get a Bic lighter stuck in a bowl of Frosted Mini Wheats for his birthday coming up. I’ve only got three more months to use the Surviving excuse, so might as well get the most out of it.
Candles were blown, ice cream was eaten, and talks of the world;s end commenced. I had just gotten to a peaceful mental place not 2 weeks ago about that stuff. And then they started talking and now I’m trying to widdle every piece of stone I see into an arrowhead so I can “protect my babes.”
At some point we went to sleep and woke up to a cold, frigid day.
Ruthie wouldn’t eat her eggs. It was a stand off and mama always wins.
Ryan wouldn’t do a dare and eat some of Wiley’s buffalo jerky, so he was made to do three cartwheels in the front yard. The mailman didn’t even acknowledge him.
Snow was still on the ground, so we made a mini snowman.
And Ruthie felt compelled to eat the carrot nose. I was happy she was eating veggies.
After spending a bit of time outside, we laid around and watched movies, one of which was Watcher in the Woods. If you haven’t watched this gem of a thriller, please go do so now. I’ll wait for you.
Done? I know, wasn’t the main girl so annoying? Anywho…
We literally sat and relaxed until Amy left the next morning. It was a rare (and welcomed!) experience for me, but I needed that rest for the energy that was about to come the following day:
My sister Lisa and her two daughters!
There was a three minute window before toys were played with and coloring began. You know I loved it.
I cut up some oranges for them, but Ruthie hoarded them like it was her job.That night we had a very breathy game of “kicking and hitting a balloon in the air without letting it touch the ground.” Welcome to Arkansas, kids, this is your entertainment. It consisted of me and Lisa sitting our lazy bottoms on the couch while the little ‘uns ran around hitting the balloons to us. I pulled a muscle reaching my toe out to keep one from touching the ground. It was pathetic.
It’s my year of surviving. Next year I’ll dive for that sucker.Then we asked Uncle Ryan to read a story.
He pulled many accents out of his arsenal for his captive audience.
Then Elayna read a book and tried her hand at accents.This was the result:Before we went to bed, the girls asked if we could go bowling the next day. I said yes immediately, but then laid in bed wondering how I was going to survive. (It’s all about me this year.) My mind flipped through its mental pinterest and woke up with a suggestion.
Could we make our own bowling alley? It would be top-notch.
I braced myself for looks of disappointment, groans, and maybe an eye-roll, because I was sure they’d read my Mary Poppins crafts post, but apparently they don’t read my blog because they were both so excited! It made my heart happy.
We ate breakfast, cleaned up, and got to it.
Lisa and Kate were in charge of coloring the water bottle pins. Elayna tackled the scoreboard and Ruthie.. I don’t know what Ruth was doing. Just do something and don’t whine. Please!
After an hour or so of prep work, we were ready to go outside under our carport area. The part of the house that I was actually super excited about when we first viewed the home.
Welcome to Boom Bowling Alley!
Bowling on a sunny day? Yes, please. Ruthie whined only a little. Nothing a bag of popcorn couldn’t help stop. She robbed the concession stand even though we were all given fake money. Whatever.I was able to not wear make-up and nurse at ease.
Afterwards we ran around, played soccer, and got dirty. It was my favorite kind of day.
The neighbor boy who is Elayna’s age came over to throw a Frisbee and I’ve never seen Elayna run so quickly before. Inside she went, stating that she really just wanted to “finish this page/chapter/series and can’t come back out.” Ah, the flutters of nervousness around boys. Maybe next time.
Ruthie was all sorts of flutters around Lisa’s nail polish. Immediately when she saw them, she said, “I like your nails!” Lisa thanked her and then off Ruthie went to the other room where it became quiet. That’s never a good sign so I checked in on her.
Ruthie!!
Just wanted to be like her auntie. Can’t blame her.
Ruthie could have slept next to her cousin every night if I let her. And when they had to leave, she pulled out her makeshift violin (out of two sticks) and played a farewell tune.
That tune only had to last a few days though, because we invited a family over that following weekend for dinner. Somewhere along the line, dinner turned into a sleepover. They have six kids and if I were barely surviving with just two, I can’t imagine with six. So instead of making them come over and immediately pack the crew up a few hours later, I suggested they crash so the parents could have alone time longer.
Which ended up being 2:30am and in Carolyn time that was like pulling an all nighter. Whew!
But I was strangely perky the next day even without coffee, because it was the most beautiful day outside, ever. Mid-February and I rocked a tank top and my skin got pink.
More girls = more people for Ruthie to stalk. They dove into the dress up box and came out looking awesome.
And why shouldn’t they have? We had a picnic to get to people! Their dad broke out (our) guitar (that still hasn’t been played by Ryan, ahem) and sang songs for hours while we drank a beer in the sun. Probably the best combo on earth.I heard snapping in a Z-formation behind me and turned around to see Ruth making her entrance. Work it, girl.Magicians arrived pulling The Never-Ending Scarf out of the Hat trick. Afterwards we tried to strike it rich, but only came up with random pieces of metal.As we were lounging inside, something caught my eye and I ran to the window.
Nuh uh.
Forts were in the process of being made, supported by sticks and designed around areas of clover “to keep it comfortable.”
But the kicker was the book laying on the ground.
The Little Prince!
You have got to be kidding me. Does anyone remember when I wrote a whole post on that darn book? Of course you don’t, so let me link it here: The Little Prince post.
Sigh. When I picture Ruthie playing outside by herself, it’s like this. A random book tossed to the side while she climbs a tree wrapped in blankets. You had better be taking notes, young missy.
The family stayed for dinner the next night and then had to leave.
Ruthie never saw them go.
She was out.
But good thing she got some sleep because more visitors came the next afternoon! Jesyka and David! And even more music was played for us. I love these two!
And just because I want to brag on him, David is part of a bluegrassy band called Sons of Otis Malone. You can’t not feel good while listening to them. I dare ya to feel bad:
See? Ya can’t.
All of these caring, funny, talented, and interesting people in our life and we so love having each of them in it.
It’s been a busy couple weeks, but let me catch you up in one area:
My sister and her family’s visit to The Shack. It was their kids’ Spring Break and the rest of the kids in their classes were off to beaches or other exotic places. I wish I were a fly on the wall when E told her classmates that she traipsed across the midwest to stay at a mobile home in Arkansas.
She’s still too young to leave out specific details like that.
So, what to do?
How about a picnic? The weather in early March was beautiful.
I threw some blankets and pillows down, set up an unused door as the table, and then got to work…
…but not without helpers.
The menu was extremely fancy: Peanut Butter & Nutella sandwiches, apples, popcorn, and trail mix.
Pretty sure E’s friends were eating the same delicacies.
Well, we tried though, making them special by wrapping them in wax paper & ribbon.
Others were relaxing while we put on the finishing touches.
The table was set.
Entertainment in the form of poetry was performed.
But that’s not all we did, even though I would’ve been happy with laying around in the sun.
The night they arrived, I mentioned to the kids that I had an activity for them to do. They immediately decided we were going to milk a cow.
And I immediately decided to never let a kid guess what we’re going to do again. I suggested they lower their standards a teeny bit and guess again, but they were determined to milk that cow.
Sigh.
So I waited until the last possible second to tell them we were only going on a mini-scavenger hunt around The Shack’s back roads.
Before doing so, I pulled ten year old W to the side and assured him that I knew this was too young of a game for him, but to just play along.
Actually, R asked me to do that.
He said that W would appreciate the nod towards his emerging maturity, even if it were something he would have liked anyway. And heck if I know what a young boy likes, so I followed R’s instructions to a T.
Halfway through the hunt, we stopped to take photos with our neighbors. They’re the only neighbors that wave at us. Usually it’s just to flick flies away with their tail, but we’ll take what we can get.
After the hunt, newspapers were read…
…the adults stayed up late around the chiminea after the kids went to bed, chit-chatted over a couple bottles of wine, and laughed at past dates gone wrong. I could share the story of my sister getting her legs hooked into a bar stool and falling over in the middle of one, but I don’t want to embarrass her.
It did make me double over and cry, though.
Then Woody Allen was read some stories.
Wait, that’s Ruth.
Oh well, I do like his movies even though he’s weird.
…and even more lounging was done before they left. It was quick trip and went by even quicker once they arrived. But it was a lot of fun. I do enjoy a slumber party.
And I highly doubt any of E’s friends discussed how cow chips were used on the Oregon trail.
But that’s okay. I’m proud of those cow chips.
And regular chips too.
Now I’m hungry and about to make my own scavenger hunt… in the fridge for food.
It was mid-50s and sunny. And we were itching to get out. Well, I was, at least. Ruthie was content bouncing on my knee, flying in my arms above my head, and timing her spit-up to land as soon as I open my mouth.
So I bundled her into a carrier and hit the pavement gravel road.
She insisted on wearing her snazzy leopard outfit for the outing. Should I be concerned that she cared more about what to wear than me? So what if I wore that white zip-up for three days straight. Dingy, make-up stained fuzzy outerwear are in now, right?
We discussed many things while on our walk. One spot was of particular interest.
See that grouping of bushes behind Ruth’s cat ears?
They’re raspberry bushes. Wild ones. Most are along the road on the barbed wire, but there’s a semi-circle just steps within the fence. Come springtime, Ruth and I are going to make friends with whomever owns that land to ask if we can scavenger.
It’s like dumpster diving for fruit.
I showed her my imaginary petrified forest. If these trees could talk, Ruth, they’d describe how it felt to have cows rub hairy bodies against their trunks or the tight grip of a hawk perched on their branches before diving down for food. They’d stiffen up as those bitter cold winters were remembered, and gently sway from side to side when talking about the blow of a breeze.
Maybe one day they’ll say we saw the cutest little girl walk down the street with her mom. And they pointed at us and smiled.
And then they would smile.
As we grow old and petrified in our own bodies, remember, Ruthie, that it feels good to be acknowledged.
On our way back home, I pointed out the shimmering reflection on a pond.
And watched as she furrowed her eyebrows against the sunlight.
We spotted some dogs running across the field.
And let the wind brush a dried reed on her head.
The mailman drove by and waved. We discussed the importance of writing letters and how wonderful it feels to receive one.
And then she looked up with inquiring eyes at the electrical pole.
Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice…. well, I’m still shamin’ on you because no way am I gonna let an 8-legged creature make me feel bad. You got me once in college when I stepped on your furry back, thinking it was a sock on the ground. And you almost got me the other day too. But you didn’t. No, not this time. Hah, not this time ole buddy ole pal.
But I still reacted in a way that would’ve puzzled even the most talented of horror film actors.
It was the first of a series of beautiful mornings, so the hubs and I woke up early to eat at Einstein Bros. There’s only one in all of Arkansas and, yes, we drove 20 minutes to wine and dine there. I had a coupon, surely that offset the gas? I didn’t care, actually, because in KC we literally lived within walking distance of one and, man, do I crave those shmears.
Before leaving, we went out back to try and make nice with our four-legged friends. If there’s one animal that God surely put on this planet to provide for us, it’s the cow. All they do is eat and sleep; and we are lucky enough to enjoy it’s juicy bounty of meat & milk without danger or much effort. I love them.
But they weren’t lovin’ on us that morning, so R turned to leave.
And nearly walked into this garden spider. It is so hard to show how big it is, but I do have witnesses who saw its sister. This one was tucked neatly behind the rabbit hutches, safely out of my line of sight and my foot arches. So I bravely laughed in its face for trying to scare me, and called upon its ancestors in a ceremonial dance of triumph over it.
It just sat there. I took that stance as fear, wanting to stay as still as possible in the shadow of such an angry human. Little did I know that fear was not what I saw, but arrogance.
It knew what was about to happen. And just sat there. Staring at me. Laughing on the inside.
I was still tap-dancing my way through the Shack, sauntered out the front door, and started down the steps. Oh happy day! Tra-la-la-la-la…
And then I saw it. Backyard spider’s big sister had spun a web halfway down the steps. Across the steps. On top of the steps. In fact I think it actually created steps on its web to lure me onto them. I don’t know how I kept my front-heavy body from toppling over it, but after a quick blackout session, somehow I ended back up on the deck.
And then grabbed my breasts and stomped my feet like a 3 year-old, all the while letting out a low guttural growl.
Really?
Is that how I react when confronted with my fears? Grabbing my chest? What exactly is that going to do besides protect me from becoming an Amazonian woman. Please, I’m not looking to fight with bows and arrows anytime soon. And stomping my feet? I guess at this stage in the pregnancy, it might actually cause a big enough tremor to topple an enemy, so I’ll let that one slide. Barely. Really, a low growl? The only time that actually works is if someone is coming near my plate of food.
R must have felt the minor earthquake and came outside. I no longer could talk, but pointed and grunted at the spider’s trap. He chopped off one end of the web, allowing it to fall back away from the steps.
If I could’ve hopped over the railing to the car, I would’ve. But instead had to walk the far side of the steps, white-knuckling the wood all the way down.
Halfway into our bagels and shmears, I forgot about Big Sissy the Spider.
And then we came home to find her missing. I refused to walk any further until the spider hunt was over. It didn’t take long, because guess where she ended up? Right next to my deck chair, where I’ve shared many laughs and thoughts and fears and innocent moments this past year. Right. next. to. it.
I shook my head slowly and glared at her. How dare you. Little did you know that I’m a mama bear now and will do anything to protect my … deck chair? You got that right, Big Sissy. My deck chair. So you best back that thing up.
If, in that moment, I could’ve become an amazonian woman and cut off my right breast to shoot it with a bow and arrow, I would’ve. But then R touched my arm (which made me jump because I thought it was another sister spider) and read to me about the garden spider. One insect they eat are grasshoppers. And since our front yard has become the latest Hedonism Resort for those jumpy creatures, I reluctantly agreed that it should stay.
So here I am, having to endure this big spindly thing mere inches from my favorite sitting spot and watch it eat its prey. After it’s done, it drops the carcas to the deck. So not only am I an undertaker to these mummies, but also a counselor to those still living. I sat and watched a grasshopper stand off to the side staring at the latest casualty. Was it a family member, a friend? I don’t know, but it sure looked grief-stricken.
Now let’s all hold hands and sing ‘Circle of Life.’ I’ll karate-chop you if you lay a fake spider on me though. Just a warning.
It followed us in yesterday after spending several hours enjoying the cold front that came through (high of 90 degrees). And now it won’t leave me alone. It literally follows me around and sits next to or on me at all times. Does it want me to tame it like the fox in The Little Prince? Well, I don’t care if it would like the wheat fields because you’re too annoying to tame, little fly.
You tickle my skin with your legs and who know how many times you’ve thrown up on me. Where did I hear that flies throw up every time they land on something. Disgusting. I’d rather tame a slug. At least, then, I could rub in the slug residue as moisturizer. See? It would have a purpose. What’s yours fly?
I’ve never cursed so much in my life and it looks like I have severe seizures every 15 minutes trying to get it out of my personal space. Forget trying to swat it either. I’m just not fast enough and, plus, I think this one is different. I think it understands English. So when I mutter I’m getting that damn fly swatter, it mysteriously disappears until I forget why I’m standing in the kitchen.
Hey, remember when PETA went psycho over Obama killing that fly? That still makes me giggle. It’s a fly. I could use those fly-killing skills right about now.
But I’ll put up with it if we could have days like yesterday everyday. It was fantastic.
R and I spent two hours playing scrabble (I won. Barely.), while he also worked on our financial spreadsheet. He amazes me with his Excel prowess. I make one click and three billion things turn red. Sigh. That’s temporary though.
Has anyone done the Dave Ramsey envelope thing? We’re not used to handling cash, as we have airline miles on our credit card… putting everything on the credit card and paying it off at the end of the month. This was my first official pay period with no incoming money and the first time that we’re starting to watch what we buy.
No more buying things because we either a) want it or b) would get a bunch of miles.
It hurts.
Doesn’t everyone work our their finances with a dry erase board in bed? (Side note: Notice the painted toes. Yesterday was the first day R had to paint them for me due to size of belly.)
But Dave is helping. We’re still using our credit card to buy fixed expenses (i.e. buying a Walmart gift card for each vehicle’s gas, because you get the 10 cents discount as well as miles. Shush it. We still like getting the miles.) and also for any other major expenses (i.e. car problems, trips – we are committed to keep this an important part of our life, etc.) But now we’re using cash as well. And that hurts at the moment, because we’re paying off our credit card bill that’s due as well as taking out cash for the current month.
I’ve also become a coupon extraordinaire and have found the trifecta of stores to tackle: Walgreens, Harps, & Walmart. Walgreens has some great cash back programs (Register Rewards that can make you money), Harps doubles coupons up to 50 cents, and Walmart will match any competitor’s price as long as you bring in the flyer.
I’ve even enlisted my mom to look at the flyers and tell me what are good meat deals. So last week I bought a roast. My first time ever.
And it was awesome.
So this is where I give thanks that R supports me staying at home, because this aspect sure isn’t easy. But I already feel us working together to accomplish something that we never had to think about beforehand. It feels good. I feel good making his lunch/dinner that stretches our dollar, I feel good keeping the shack clean & tidy, and I feel good taking care of little errands that we used to argue who would have to do next. I have the time now to focus on that, and I’m so grateful it’s a possibility to do so.
And yes, I do take naps.
But before I do, if anyone has done Dave Ramsey and would share their experience, I’d love to hear it. Right now everything feels a long way off and any little bit success stories help.
Also, check out Passion For Savings, if you’re interested in couponing. She lists out great deals for you so you don’t have to think about it. She also lets you know when freebies become available. I’ve already subscribed to three magazines for free based on her directions (Shape, Everyday Food, & Bloomberg Business Weekly). Love it!
You know, I’d have to say there’s one thing that I get so darn excited about every spring.
Naw, it’s not filling up the hummingbird feeder, which provides us with so much entertainment at the Shack.
Or the recently installed horseshoe pits, courtesy of R’s garage sale find. We’re planning on hosting an important BBQ (if all goes well) in September, so these will come in handy.
No, I’d have to say my favorite annual celebration…
is the “Hanging of the Fly Trap”. When our baby is older, we’ll hold them up so they can hang the fly trap in this sacred and touching tradition. Forget foil-covered stars on christmas tree tops. It’s all about the fly trap for me.
One night we arrived home late to The Shack and, as usual, forgot to leave the porch light on. Forgetting the porch light in town is one thing; you have the neighbor’s light, or one from the street. In the country it’s quite another. You have to feel your way to the front door in a blanket of darkness while trying to resist the pull of Orion’s Belt. Sometimes my head is thrown so far back staring at the open expanse, it’s difficult to raise it again.
This night we pulled into our driveway, and turned off the car. As I stepped out and immediately looked above, a sound wafted towards me from the fields. It was the unmistakeable sound of footsteps (or paw-steps?) slowly crunching down on the tall, dry grass.
My breath caught, and body went still. But I could see nothing, even with the headlights on.
Sound does travel further in the country, so it must be deeper in the field than I originally thought. It, whatever it is. When R got out, I whispered that something is out there. He listened, and also heard it.
Cruuuuuuuuunch, Cruuuuuuunch, as if it were slowly making its way.
He yelled at me to get in the house. We had been hearing coyotes for some time now and as there is a thicket of woods (and turkeys, mind you) behind us, if they’re hungry, then we’re in trouble.
We ran inside, pulled out R’s trusty flashlight, and went through the back door.
I peeped behind R’s shoulder to see the pack of wolves, or by this point, T-Rex dinosaurs that have been incubating in a frozen tundra underneath the fields until just a few moments prior. And they were hungry.
Still, we couldn’t see anything. But the sound was closer than before, inching its way to our rabbit hutches. If you didn’t know, T-Rex dinosaurs love rabbits.
R felt me over his back and pushed me inside. Stay in there!, he said and I listened. There was something in his tone.
After inspecting the hutches a bit more and trying his best to dinosaur-proof the rabbits, he came back in.
I guess we’ll just see if they make it through the night, he said. And we looked at each other, both silently praying that we would make it too. T-rexes are also drawn to gray hair, so I knew I was a gonner.
We climbed into bed and held hands, like the couple in Titanic.
The next morning, I opened my eyes to a new day and yelled ‘Huzzah’! We made it! R woke up, and we ran outside to check on the rabbits.
This is what we saw:
Now, I know I grew up in the city and am still getting used to the noises (and in reality, the quietness) of the country, but this one did make me feel like a loser. The cows had been rotated into the fields behind us.
Or maybe Boomer? We don’t know, just that the owner across the street yells “Buuubuh” anytime Wilbur comes close to us. Maybe Bubba? Whatever his name is, Mr. Unfriendly, who refuses to return our waves doesn’t like it. I don’t think he likes Shack Dwellers.
My friend is going through a similar experience, except they don’t live in a shack so I don’t know their neighbors’ excuse. What’s up, unfriendly neighbors of America. Is it some sort of club? The UNA club. Is his child receiving a scholarship for being part of the club? For gawd’s sake, Wave.
We’ve had a good laugh, though, watching how hard they avoid making eye contact with us. One guy actually twisted his body in such an awkward way while getting out of the car to avoid facing us. And then side-shuffled along the side of the vehicle to the front door. Oh, how that made us giggle!
Oh, people.
Anyway, sometimes we walk out the door and there’s Wilbur/Bubba/Boomer. Like he’s waiting for us to hug him.
So we do. Apparently he likes giving kisses to pirates.
It doesn’t help that N carries dog treats in his car for random “leeedull dowggies” in the town. Seriously, without even owning a dog. He’s like that weird guy getting a little to close for comfort to kids on the playground, only it’s dogs.
I get up to go, and Wilbur asks me not to just yet. Please rub behind my ears some more. I don’t care if you live in a Shack.
But I have to get dinner started, Wilbur. We’ll play another time. Promise.
And as I was prepping my food, I watched him slowly make his way back home across the street. He’d walk a little bit, then lay down and stare at The Shack, walk, lay down a bit, stare.. walk, lay down a bit, stare, all the way home.
I was headed out The Shack’s back door to bask in the 110 degree heat index, when my hand closed around something large, wiggly, and with many legs.
I screamed.
Neighbors probably thought someone got murdered in The Shack, so they put down their knitting and shook their heads at their spouse saying, “It was only a matter of time…”
Shacks get a bad rap.
(can you see the turkey farm?)
But it really wasn’t a 300 lb spider that my brain told me it was.
In fact, it was just our friend Twiggy, the stick bug.
Since our initial spotting of Twiggy, we have seen him roam around the property, popping up here and there.
Until recently, that is.
We haven’t seen him in about a week and have come to the conclusion that a dog is playing catch with him. You had a good run, Twiggy. And so did that dog..after he caught you.
I’ve enjoyed exploring our piece of outdoors near The Shack. It can simultaneously calm and reinvigorate me.
Like the semi-canopied dirt roads.
Or the various moths and butterflies that circle me as I walk. (There is one house on the way that I swear keeps a coyote chained up in the front yard. Every time I pass, it groans out of agony for not being able to eat me alive. It would be my absolute last resort, but I’m not taking chances.)
Our small little graveyard.
Which is right next to a tree cemetery. This little grove has confirmed my belief that dead trees are just as beautiful as full, luscious ones. They’re like old, wrinkled faces… I wonder what they’ve seen.
And then scattered throughout are horses of varying colors. The white ones are my favorite.
But most importantly, and probably most simply, open space. I never tire of these views.
Last weekend, my parents came down to visit. It happened to be on Mother’s Day weekend, and when asked if she was sad to not be spending it with the majority of her kids in KC, she replied, “Oh yeah. I didn’t realize it was this weekend.”
Thanks.
One item on our agenda was to scope out where my grandparents (my father’s parents) grew up. My dad visited his mom’s family once a year on and off and had fond memories.
So we piled into the car and. off. we. went. ..just a spoon full of sugar helps the medicine go down…
One thing my dad brought up was the artesian well near his grandparent’s property, which had never stopped gushing out water when he was kid. We weaved our way down some dirt roads and finally found it, on (no joke) Artesian Well Road.
whew.
We later found out that my great-great grandparents owned a store right near this water source, if not practically right on top of it. At one time, there was also a plaque stating that this was a stagecoach stop!
Just past this well is a creek in which dad used to play. When we drove up to it, there were still kids playing in it, which was a nice touch, I thought.
Then we headed back towards the properties.
First, looking to the south to Tater Hill and John Koch’s house.
As we parked, we heard some birds chirping on the wire fence.
So mom brought out their trusty bird book and we actually found it and listed to its song!
I’m one for 235 on the good gift scale. Not bad.
We spotted Uncle Abe and Aunt Sophie’s home and pulled up in front of it.
Dad started pointing out what the different buildings behind the house were for, what had changed, what hadn’t, etc. Then we noticed a man standing out in the lawn.
He didn’t look too happy watching us stare at this property.
So dad decided to pull in and talk to him.
Turns out the home is still owned by Abe and Sophie’s son (Dennis) and this couple is renting from him. They said they had Dennis’ number in their cell and asked if we’d like to talk to him.
This is Dad’s cousin. Yes, we’ll talk to him!
While Dennis was being called, the other guy showed us his timberwolf. No really. A full timberwolf.
I stayed back.
Dennis happened to be in the area and swung by the property. Dad and him shook hands exclaiming how old each had gotten. It was great. He was the one who told us about the store near the well.
They reminisced and described what had changed.
The barn from which they’d gather eggs is still there as well as the building where they’d milked the cows.
The field is there with cows (and donkeys) running amok. Did you know that donkey’s are used to keep away coyotes?
Neither did I.
After we left, we stopped by the old cemetery and found some gravestones. This will help me in my ancestry.com quest. Oh lordie, a couple nights ago, I travelled a few hundred years back into time into the land of Luxembourg, Germany. It was fantastic. Love that site.
Dennis also told us that the house where Dad’s mom grew up in was still standing. Even dad didn’t know about that. We got directions and headed straight there.
Don’t you just love it? Yes, there’s a piece of furniture on the balcony and a stove on front porch, but come on!
I’m just picturing little Gerdie running around with her blonde ringlets and wishing it were up for sale. I want it back.
But for now, I’ll be content with looking at the photos and imagining.
A few weeks ago, my friend turned a year older. We were on our way to visit R’s parents and stopped through on the way.
Oh my goodness.
Also, Oh Stanley!
That’s what I said every other second for the night we were there.
This is Stanley.
He’s sad.
I love sad dogs.
One time my sister and I went to Petsmart and we found Freckles. He was sad. I still regret not buying him.
Look at those eyes. I know what he’s thinking.
“Why is life so hard. What is my purpose. Who is this person shoving their face into mine. I want to jump out that window over there.”
The next day we woke up and treated S to a round of golf.
But first I had to give her a bday gift.
Our library gives some books away free. And no I don’t mean I just walked out with it. It really was free.
And this was one! Perfect for S.
This book along with a pink plastic flamingo for their housewarming gift has led me to believe that I’m probably the world’s best gift giver.
It ended up being a nice sunny (littly chilly) morning. We only played nine holes before heading off to lunch.
And I actually enjoyed myself. I think it took not playing for a year and a half to come back a little more laid back. That being said, I can’t wait for more rounds.
I’ll be straight with you. I’m gonna stretch this past weekend out for as many posts as possible, partly because it reminds me of the nice weather we experienced and partly because I have nothing else to talk about. So there.
We met up with my brother’s friends early saturday morning to eat a good pre-hiking breakfast of McDonalds Egg & Cheese biscuits. Just exactly what you want at the pit of your belly while wandering around for 8 miles. But since I never order this delicacy anymore, I slurped it up. Slurped? I guess that verb works, since its mostly grease.
Ah, grease. Let’s all take a moment and bow our heads in appreciation of it.
After an hour ride on the water taxi to the Two Harbors marina, we unloaded our gear, grabbed what we needed from the park office, and took off. Oh joy! We were so happy and full of energy!! Especially me, since D slipped me an Excedrin on the ride over. I don’t take much medicine, even for minor things. So when this puppy hit me, I was wide eyed and jittery. I’m pretty sure if someone showed up in a trench coat with little Excedrin pills hanging on the inside, I’d buy some. And isn’t that how they always get you? The first one’s free, buddy.
As we walked around the one street town to find the trailhead, I noticed a sign. Wheels? When was that an option? I want my money back.
But they shoved a sock in my mouth and we trekked on….
…right up the first hill out of town. And then we rested for about three hours. It hurt and I was starting to crash from my half dosage of pain reliever. We were bracing for the worst.
Every so often, I’d turn around to see where my brother, M, was. I’d have to turn around, you see, because he was almost certainly pulling up the rear. It wasn’t because he was out of shape.. oh no, it was because he was carrying an 8-person tent. For 8 miles. I’ll let that swirl around in your brain for a bit and will definitely not bring up that I had suggested renting a couple smaller tents. No, you’ll never hear that out of my mouth.
Never.
(ever)
I don’t know how he did it. I’d have quit right after lugging it to the car.
But we forged on, enjoying the scenery. And oh, it was so lovely. We arrived after almost two straight weeks of rain showers and the hills showed the results. I was happy.
Until we turned a corner. And I saw it. Where the Others live. It. was. freaky. Mostly because of how quiet it was. So I pretended to be Kate and hoped Sawyer was somewhere nearby being tortured on a tree. Who knew torturing could be so sexy?
After that scene was over with, we came to a crossroads, and chose unwisely. Whenever I think of the phrase “choose wisely”, I always envision Indiana Jones determining which cup is the Holy Grail. Isn’t it weird how your mind will instantly flash a scene for only a moment and then its gone.
Happens to me a lot. But mostly it’s of what might happen. And that, my friends, is the scariest place to go in the world.
What I didn’t envision was walking straight into the path of bison.
My heart pounded.
We stood there staring at them and them back at us. It felt like a million years went by until one of them finally crossed the path and let us through.
After about a mile straight uphill, we realized we had gone the wrong way and had to turn around and politely ask to be let by the bison again. My poor hips.
Oh, and M’s too. I had almost forgotten about him. But they hitched a ride from some guys who had their day off. In the back, they had a cooler full of beer and we checked to see if it had the Dharma logo. It didn’t. But I still bored my eyes into them hoping to be offered one. All I got was dirt in my face as they peeled off.
M & D had never smiled bigger.
But if I’m honest, I enjoyed the hike… despite how angry my hips were.
I was just happy to be outside all day. Nothing beats that feeling.
So after we watched M & D ride off into the sunset, the rest of us hiked a couple more miles to the end destination. A little cove called Parsons Landing. As we neared, our feet couldn’t help but run.
I was kind of sad for it to end. But sitting in front of a fire and hearing the waves crash all night made the 16 hour pause so worth it.
So did the food. Okay, it was all the food, none of the nature.
No, okay, I lied again. It was about half and half.
Tomorrow we would wake up early and hike back…and to me, a morning hike is about as good as it gets. Especially if you have M&Ms in your pocket.
In the form of my first official knitted fabric swatch.
Jesus was born too, but I’m sure He would’ve appreciated blue yarn more?
Proud Mom.
I’ve spent the past two saturday mornings at a little shop in the fayetteville square. Both days have been cold and overcast. Perfect days for this activity.
Once in the store, I would run to the back and grab a seat at the old wooden table. This time the group was already there. A group that included a chatty woman, a defensive woman, a bubbly woman, and a weird quiet woman that reminded them of the girl on the Breakfast Club. You know, the one that would shake her hair onto black paper to make snowy craft projects?
That’s me. But I’m starting to prefer to be the quiet one. They’re the scariest in the group, I think, because … they’re listening. Someone who would actually listen to anything I say instantly ups the fright ante.
This is the chair I try to grab each class. I’ll knock someone over if I have to. I’ve been debating about offering money for it. I’d like it for my future dining room table.
I’d take the cat too. She wanders around the table playing with our needles and rolling yarn balls back and forth.
Look who we found wanting to tag along with us the other day.
I’m sorry, but I could ride for days as long as I had that vision on my handlebars. He just needs to wear high waisted polyester pants and munch on those crispy wafer cookies with the cream in the middle. Then he’d be my little grandpa frog, riding shotgun. Kind of.
I’ve just spent the last five minutes googling those cookies and for the life of me, I cannot come up with the name. I even typed in “cookies that old people like”. How horrible is that?? Please help.
*BREAKING NEWS* The wafer cookie has been found. I repeat, the wafer cookie has been found. Hat tip to my mother-in-law. Here’s the link: my grandpa ate a lot of these.
Ah, day three at the grand canyon. We woke up extra early this morning to join a guided hike along the Cedar Ridge trail. One of the park rangers would walk us down and then give a schpeal on the wildlife as well as a brief history of Native Americans. My kind of thing!
Also my kind of thing? Forcing other people to come along with me. Sleep or no sleep, get up people.
When we hopped off the shuttle at the trailhead, we still had a few minutes to spare and wandered around. That’s when we found what is now considered R’s favorite photo, ever. He’s openly admitted to being enamored by it.
But you know I can’t let someone do something without me trying it too. Hello, that’s how I cracked my tailbone, remember?
So I mosied on out there and politely asked R to take my photo too.
This is where we get into the section of the post delicately named “I’m married to a non-photographer.” And by non-photographer, I don’t mean someone who doesn’t like taking photos. I mean someone who just doesn’t take photos.
Get this, he studied in Australia for 6 months and took exactly zero photos.
That still bugs me.
So I handed over the camera and waited the appropriate few minutes for him to find the power button.
I was scared out there on that ledge, my friends. And R managed to capture it.
He also managed to capture the fact that I was wearing granny panties.
Thank you, R.
Go back to not taking photos.
But man, was it a great view of the trees. I always think of the GC as all rock, no greenery. Nope. Not the case at all.
Little did I know, though, what was lurking in those trees. But I’d soon find out by the park ranger a bit later.
First, though, we had to walk down. And honestly, walking down was a lot harder on the knees than the way up.
Choose your poison: lungs or knees. I’ll choose lungs any day.
So I shoved the camera back into R’s hands and ran ahead so I could nonchalantly have an obviously unposed photo.
No really. I never knew he was taking my picture.
Not even here when I was waving at my brother-in-law while strategically facing into the sunshine for a better shot.
Finally!
We made it to the checkpoint. It was a little plateau of land with overlooks galore. It was also where our park ranger sat us down for a history and nature lesson.
What he first wanted to talk about was the wildlife and what you might find if you took other trails close by. For instance, up along the rim of those pine trees, you would probably encounter mountain goats. But beware! It’s mating season, so you’ll want to stay clear of them.
And not any sooner after he said the word mating, I turned to look at R.
Settle down, R.
After soaking in the 180 degree view, we headed back up. Nothing too eventful happened..
Oh wait. Yeah, something did happen.
R almost tumbled to his death.
No joke.
You see, this trail had been given a grant to fix it up. So along the way, you passed by workers moving stones here and there or even using a jack hammer to break up areas.
It was as we hiked past the jack hammer when it happened. R wanted to slip by as quickly as possible and so hopped onto a slightly slanted rock that hung over the edge of the trail.
It was slow motion. He lost his footing on that rock and slid over the edge, but managed to flip around and grab that same rock with his left pinky finger.
Okay, it wasn’t his pinky. But he wants people to think that. It was only his left hand though.
And it was scary enough for him to say, “Ask me in five minutes” when I asked him whether or not he’s freaking out.
The night ended with a marathon game of dominoes..
…while I marveled at how differently everyone set theirs up. I see four different patterns here. Well, five if you count the table cloth.
It was a great weekend. Lots of outdoor time and no hair-brushing time. My favorite way to spend the weekend.
You must forgive the rather off-kilter formatting of this particular post. When I began uploading photos, I also started to watch ‘Remains of the Day’. Having never seen it, I was quite distracted (and have since tried to talk and write with a hint of British in every line.)
But I’m back to my normal American self and ready to talk about our quick adventure to the Grand Canyon.
R, N, A, & I (or C, because my name doesn’t start with an I, yet it may appear so due to the grammatical construction of the sentence. You know, to the millions of people reading this blog who don’t know me.) Well, anyway, R, N, A, & I/C packed up our 30 bags full of camping gear Friday night and headed to the airport. Again, like the our flight to Little Corn Island (see post here), I had never been on one so entertaining. But this time it was because of the flight staff. The man describing the plane, the placement of luggage, the general procedures of the flight talked non-stop for 5 minutes, intentionally.
It was an act, you see. A performance.
He made fun of the passengers, teased the work staff, and provided interesting information about the upgrades to the planes.
When he finished (and finally took a breath), most everyone (including me) actually clapped. I’m a thespian-lover. They could be street performers or opera singers, it really doesn’t matter. Because if they’re good, they’re good. And they deserve recognition fortheir talent.
So, I’m running away to join the flight attendants. If only for the free peanuts.
But wait! It wasn’t over! After everyone had been boarded onto the plane, a lady came onto the loud speaker and announced “I’ve found a black wallet at the front of the plane, here. It looks to be a man’s wallet….Okay, good! Now that I have your attention, Let’s start the safety procedures.”
Everyone laughed and, dare I say, actually listened to the procedures? Well, we knew N would either which way. He’s been pretty jittery since a terror flight he had recently.
It didn’t help when the pilot came on mid-flight and announced “If you look to the left, you will see [insert some geographical formation]. But don’t everyone lean to look at once, you’ll tip the plane.” And later, when R teasingly asked N during some turbulence, “So when do you think this plane would have arrived?” No laughs that time.
We landed arounded 7ish, picked up our rental car, bought food & supplies, and headed to our destination. Having arrived around midnight, A & I/C watched the boys put tents up by moonlight. An hour later, it started pouring. We had made it just in time.
After only a few hours of sleep, R was put in charge of making breakfast in the morning of which he did a great job. Nothing beats a good camping breakfast. Especially with some wildlife to watch while eating… If you look closely to the photo on the left (you can click to enlarge it), you just might see another friend of ours eating her breakfast.
We slowly got around to head down to the canyon, a couple shuttle rides away. N made some sandwiches that consisted of about 95% peanut butter and 3% bread. The other 2% were air bubbles created by my shocked exclamations.
We made it to the canyon, admired it’s grandness (no pun intended) and then quickly shifted our attention to something infinitely more fun. Squirrels! Despite the ominous signs showing bloody chunks taken out of fingers, we snuck pieces of food to the skinny squirrels thinking we were their only lifeline to survival.
After reading more signs asking each of us to please not die, we started down the Bright Angel Trail. This was touted as being popular, steep, with water. Some of the trails do not have water, therefore detouring some individuals. At one point we saw a young man climb out onto a outer rock to take photos. Our eyes widened, me with fear and the boys with excitement.
Oh, lordie. This is going to be a long walk, I can feel it.
The views were nice on this one… if only a bit narrow. It’s like seeing a sliver of the sky, knowing what the rest probably looks like, but unable to feel the full magnitude of it. But that was okay. Why? Because we got to see mules. And boy was I excited to pass by them.
I had read “the rules”, that hikers are to stay put (!) next to the inner wall and not to move. I took this very seriously.
Until the last mule literally shot out poop in front of me. And when I say shot out, I mean it was a horizontal excavation. That’s when I lost it….and squeeeealed. Not sure if that was the wisest thing to do while it was carrying a man next to the cliff’s edge, but now I know my natural reaction to that sort of situation. Apparently I make a noise similar to the animal involved. Just imagine me next to a donkey.
It took about an hour to get to our turning point. The bathrooms. We refilled our water bottles, ate some trail mix, and started our way back up. We were so happy walking down, skipping along at times, laughing & joking. It would be the same on the return trip, right? Right?
No. In fact, I think I would have been left for dead….
…if not for this woman. She joined us kind of last minute on this trip, and am I glad she did. Because do you know how long it took for the guys to compete against each other to see who could hike fastest up the trail? Nano seconds. The only part of them that stayed with us was their dusty wake.
A tried to talk to me a few times. She gave up after I didn’t respond. Not that I wouldn’t respond. I couldn’t. First of all, all I could hear was blood pouding on my temples and if some sort of noise phrased in a question actually reached my ear drums, I only whispered my answer through gasps of breath.
My brain and eye sockets were so much on fire that I didn’t even notice the guys’ backpacks laying on the rocks next to where we saw the guy climb out onto the rock. I was forging on, determined to get to the point.
So even when R and N stepped out, thinking they’ve pulled a good practical joke, my brain cells were too fried to figure out if it was funny or not.
We made it home within the next hour and collapsed around the fire. I had wanted to go to a Moon Walk which was offered around a full moon (which coincidentally was Labor Day weekend), but agreed that sitting on my bum with a good glass of red would be much more enjoyable.
So that’s what we did. We chit-chatted, listened to N’s adaptation of ‘Tales from the Crypt’, and went to bed early.
We had to be up at the crack of dawn to join a hike led by a park ranger. It would be on another trail with some of the most spectacular views of the canyon I’ve ever seen. I was a happy camper.
These pictures do NOT give justice to how big this spider is. If R is not at my immediate beck and call to extinguish arachnids, this is what I end up doing.
Following them with a headlight along our ceiling. I refuse to lose sight of them until my spider hero comes back home.
And yes, that is our dorm room bed. 3 feet from the ceiling and all the more reason I have to keep track of those suckers. No way is it going to fall onto my face.
P.S. Hope everyone has a wonderful Labor Day. R and I (along with his brother and girlfriend) are headed on a camping vacation to the Grand Canyon. Let’s put it this way: you have to use quarters in order to take a shower.
And Mama sure does like her showers. Let’s see how much money I spend on cleanliness alone.
I met up with my family for a camping excursion last weekend. The first day started off nice… we had a good chicken dinner and some cold drinks. Then all hell broke loose. In the form of weather. My parents stayed in their RV while my sister A and her dog slept in one tent and R & me in another. If someone had told me that we were actually sleeping in a thundercloud, I would’ve believed them. It was very scary. I felt bad for my sister who is a self -admitted non-tent camper. We were afraid she’d never come back.
When we ate breakfast the next morning, we each had gone through waves of panic through the storm. My mom thought a tornado would go through, my dad swore he heard a mud slide happening, and I waffled between lightening striking a tree onto our tents if a flash flood didn’t hit us first.
The next day, we braved the muddy paths and hiked around the area. At one point while waiting for us outside the visitor center, my mom (in her sunglasses) had both the hiking stick and the dog beside her. She laughed at herself wondering if people that passed by thought she was blind.
3 blind mice
A says her dog looks down in shame b/c of the type of leash she has to wear.
Midway through our hike, we ended up at a pond that offered paddleboat rides. We buddied up and spent the next half hour paddling around looking at turtles’ heads popping up and avoiding going over the waterfall’s edge. R swears we wouldn’t have gone over, but I’d rather not confirm that.
We took a little rest at our campsite for lunch and staring at other campers, when we decided to go for a horseback ride.
My friend K will be happy to know that I am completely over my horse-riding phobia. R and I would even hold our horses back every once in awhile to try and get them to trot. That’s how far along I’ve come. If you don’t remember, while studying in Spain with my then roommate K (back in 2002), we took a horseback ride through the Andalucian mountains. Little did we know that our horses were the only two that didn’t like each other. So as we were gingerly walking on the veeeeeeery edge of the mountain’s path, my horse got all up in K’s horse’s business if you know what I mean. Well she didn’t like that very much and tried to buck at me. My horse did the only logical thing possible — she ran down the side of the mountain. I can still remember ducking under a tree branch and zig-zagging between boulders. K will back me up on that. Eventually she stopped and one of the guides had to run down (on foot) to lead us back up. You can see a pic of me on that horse here. I was all smiles, so you know it was a “before” photo.
After that experience, R and I went to Park City, UT for our honeymoon and I took my first step in conquering this fear. I was stiff, but the overall experience was enjoyable. I’m now to the point where I’d like to ride bareback behind William Wallace in an open field. (Can you tell I just watched Braveheart last night?)
A had her own scary horse story way back from Girl Scouts. She did a good job considering she hasn’t ridden since Girl Scouts, but I don’t think she’ll be riding again for awhile.
Afterwards, we rewarded ourselves with a little steak and dominoes. Luckily the weather was not as bad Saturday night and we managed some good hours of sleep. It was so nice to be outside with my family all weekend. My type of outing.
I will never again be afraid of rainy forecasts. Just like my St. Louis birthday trip, last weekend promised an onslaught of droplets sure to ruin everyone’s Memorial Day plans. R and I shrugged our shoulders and didn’t worry about it.
Thank goodness too, because in the end, everything worked out wonderfully. We stayed with our cousins B-squared and their two children. They live on a canal that goes straight into Tampa Bay. Plus, they’re really relaxing hosts, so it instantly felt like a vacation. All the more reason to schedule another vacation back. It was great.
The first day, we drove out to St. Pete’s beach and frowned at the clouds overhead. Don’t even think about it, clouds. And you know, they listened to me. After a 30 second rainfall, they were done. That was it. Over. The rest of the day was sunny mid-80s.
I grabbed a drinkie-poo and we found a place to lay-out, already feeling rested.
We sun-bathed, played around, talked, ate, and swam. R & I had an ice cream eating contest with the sun. The sun won.
Both evenings we lounged around their house, zapped of energy. We literally did nothing all day and yet we were both exhausted. Well, maybe part of our energy was spent on making friends with the little ones. This may have been the first time that kids gravitated towards me rather than R. I jokingly refer to R as “Jesus”, because kids are just drawn to him. These two wanted nothing to do with him, though, and at one point the oldest child (not even three yet) saw R sitting on the couch and muttered loudly “Guess I can’t watch my movie now.” We laughed so hard. It wasn’t until we were on the way to the airport that R got some giggles out of them.
I was saying ‘Cheese’, by the way. That’s not my normal smile.
The next day, they took us out on their boat. R enjoyed being the Jr Skipper and helping out B.
We stopped at a couple places, one of which is a little island appropriately named “Beer Can Island” where boats anchor around the beach. Almost like a mini Party Cove.
I had to get a photo of the o07 boat.
We even got to see dolphins! If anyone knows my love of marine life, you know how excited I was. Good times.
It had been raining for most of last week, and just as I was about to pull my hair out, look what happened. The sun came out. It shone so fiercely that I almost think it pulled me out of the house whether I wanted to go or not. I opened the sunroof, rolled down the windows, and drove on back roads through farmland to my destination. I could have turned around and driven back home without even stepping out of the car, that’s how peaceful and invigorating the ride was. And then like a record screeching, the wind whipped hair into my eye and I was ready to get out of the car.
With my left arm already sunburnt from hanging out the window, I charged into the woods. I carried some trail mix, water, and a good read, thinking I would spend the majority of the afternoon lounging on a boulder under an elm tree. That didn’t happen and it has less to do with the weather than with my unfortunate neuroses. A wild imagination coupled with paranoia is so not acceptable when by yourself in the forest.On some level, though, I think I subconsciously do it to keep my life feeling adventurous. Or schizophrenic. You decide. No, don’t decide. I’d like to stay in denial, thank you very much.
As I started my way down, I became obsessed with moss covering anything it could get its hands (leaves?) on. I made a point to touch some at every stage of my descent, from the weather-beaten dry one at the top, to the cool spongy one at the bottom.
I couldn’t see well, but I did see a flash of white fur rustle in the leaves and then move to the side. Now, I know this could have been a deer. But as my sister would say, in our attempt to qualm negative self-thoughts, “Could the opposite be true?” In this case though, the opposite would be the negative thought. Dang, why did R have to tell me that a couple decades ago, mountain lions were released near his hometown in hopes to contain animal populations naturally. Now the thought was in my head and I couldn’t let it go. Mountain lions. The most chilling thing I could imagine was turning my back to those pair of eyes and continuing my way on the trail. So I did just that, if only to prove that I could be the heroine of my own little adventure in the woods.
You would think the further I got away from that ominous bluff, the better off I’d feel. Nuh-uh. Every little thing started to scare me. My hearing sharpened to the point that normal, woodsy sounds tripled in their decibel level. A lizard scurrying into the brush could have easily been an elk during mating season. Vultures circling overhead must also have been able to tell the future, because why else would they be hovering over where I walked? Even shadows startled me. In the photo below, a shadow caused by an overturned tree was surely a bear cub. And if there was a bear cub in the middle of the path, that meant mama bear was close by. Could I squeeze myself into that slit in the bluff?? Why didn’t I do more sit-ups this morning, I thought, otherwise I surely could have if she came charging.
Eventually sunlight dominated the shadows as I climbed my way to the end of the trail. But as if the woods had to give me one last salute, I turned the corner and walked right into this guy. If that doesn’t look like the red dinosaur-monster thing from the new Star Trek movie, I don’t know what else does. Tentacles flying around a mouth waiting for the next unlucky hiker.
I’m starting to think I need to adopt the buddy system on my walks, now. At least then I’ll have someone to trip if I needed to get away. Oh just kidding. Or am I? Anyone up for a hike?
Meet Shady. You’ll never forget her. She’s R’s parents’ adopted dog of their son, N. Did that make sense? Anyway, there are two things I get excited about when traveling to my in-laws. The first is what type of nut/dried fruit/candy mixture will be on their table and the second is Shady. She makes you feel all warm and cozy inside.
I’ve got to hand it to him. He was patient. Never tried to lead me into the bathroom or suggested that since I’ve drunk so much water, I probably need to go the restroom.. No, he bided his time until the moment I went in on my own. It wasn’t a yell-scare, it was more of a my-whole-body-jumped-back-and-I-was-too-frightened-to-make-any-noise-scare. I’ll get you back, R.
We got lost not once on Little Corn, but twice. TWICE. You can walk around the island in about 35 minutes, but that didn’t stop us from wishing we had a GPS system. When we hopped off the panga, we got general directions on how to get to Carlito’s, which was my first hut choice. In my first blog post, way back last year, I alluded to the fact that I am a planner. Not laid back at all. So when I called Carlitos this past summer to “reserve” a hut, the woman that answered kindly laughed. Really hard. She kept repeating the year in which we would be arriving. Was 6 months too far in advance? Guess so.
So even before lying on a beach for 7 days, I was already thrown into nonchalant mentality… even if I had to be dragged into it kicking and screaming.
We took the directions given to us and started down the main road, which in reality is a sidewalk (no cars are allowed on the island.)
After taking a few wrong turns and asking everyone we passed where the huts were, we finally made it. We snagged only one of a couple available.
Whew.
There were constants that we noticed happening daily throughout the week. For one, I never brushed my hair. Secondly, we talked about food nonstop. Where shall we eat today, what shall we eat, wasn’t that meal good, can’t you just wait until tomorrow’s meals, why can’t tomorrow come more quickly, etc etc etc. Food was the surprising star of the trip.
More on that later.
Some other constants were:
Waking up to the sound of waves and watching the sun rise.
R washing the one shirt he wore all week.
After reading for a couple hours, taking a dip in the sea.
Lying in our netted bed to read while our sunburnt skin healed.
And lastly, playing Boggle every night after dinner (Can you believe I brought that in my carry-on? It made me giggle to myself). R was great competition and I don’t think I won once.
Another pastime was walking. and walking. and walking. We went everywhere on that island …trying to find coves to snorkel and relax by. The jungle we walked through was absolutely gorgeous though. And because of the small dirt paths, it felt like you were the only ones on this little place.
A random sand volleyball court.
R and I noticed a pattern in how we walk. I always look up and he always looks down. I can’t help trying to soak in everything around me, and R can’t help being practical with everything around him. One time, as normal, my eyes were to the sky and his were to the dirt. Thank goodness too, because I almost stepped right on a boa. I’m not exaggerating here. R screamed at me and pulled my arm back before I did.
Another day, we decided to head to a lookout tower. And yes, we got lost. We were cutting through random people’s yards when a father & son duo helped us out. We were probably walking all over their garden or something.
We finally made it and my heart palpitated a bit. Does anyone remember when R, his brother, and I went up the one in Arkansas? I think back and wonder why I was so scared. At least there were actual landings to brace yourself there. I forced myself up this one and was so glad I did.
I was gripping the pole with all my might. Notice my hair.
I mentioned how much we enjoyed the food. There was so much to choose from (and really, at the same time, not so much. It was pretty much the same food, just different preparation styles). My favorite snacks were the ‘pan de coco’ (coconut bread) and cinnamon bread. Children would go from hut to hut with their freshly baked goodies and we’d gobble them up (the bread, not the children. Although, from the look in my ravenous eye I’m sure they thought I lived in a gingerbread house back home.)
R discovered french toast all over again, with coconut syrup drizzled on pan de coco. It was a crowd pleaser and we got excited just thinking of it when we woke up in the morning. Good food does that to ya.
Our last night in LCI, we splurged and bought some of our favorites. The lobster, fish, and shrimp platter. The cook brought her husband over to double check her english skills, because she didn’t believe that we would order so much. We did and we loved it.
We said goodbye to LCI and made our way back to BCI for our flight home. We had met some interesting people while vacationing, a couple of whom we ran into again before we flew home. Up next: Searching for the soul of the world on Big Corn Island.
That night we celebrated Amy and Des’ birthday. February is the gauntlet of birthdays in our family. Every day from Feb 11 to Feb 15 a birthday is had. Apparently May 7 to May 11 is a happening time between lovebirds.
cuethebanjo.com 
