Kansan Girls Visit

This photo at the top of White Rock Mountain is proof that we are not still hiking at this very moment.

My friends, S & L, came down for a weekend visit a couple weeks ago, and I still have bug bites as memories. They visited The Shack, we went on a hike, and then played board games until 1 in the morning. A pretty well-rounded time I must say.

When I found this hike, I saw the outlook at the top and knew this was the one. It wasn't too far south, and you could still get some good views.

Little did I know that you literally had to call upon the native american navigational skills you've been studying, because there were moments when the trail disappeared. What, you didn't study them? Neither did I, and a broken record of "Are you sure this is the trail" questioning ensued.



What. I was nervous! Two of my friends took time away from their busy lives to visit and then I lead them into the woods never to be seen from again?

L registered our names at the trailhead while reminding us what to do if we encounter a bear. I don't know where I read that you're supposed to scream, trip your neighbor, then run; but it seemed like sound advice to me. So I dismissed everything L read.



It was kind of warm that day and I was happy to have worn shorts, silently gloating over that fact as S & L changed into pants.

And then it started. Or ended, I guess I should say. The trail, that is.

It ended.

And we had to eyeball our way to what looked like a white rock on a mountain. That meant going through bushes. And bushes. And thorny bushes, and kinda thorny bushes, and not thorny bushes.

My legs got tore up, people. And every so often I would turn around and see...



two smiling faces going through any sort of foliage with ease.

Those smarty-pants.

[let me pause here for awkward laughter as I say, "no pun intended" but you really know that I meant to say the pun and suddenly realize that you're required to make some sort of noise, so just do a muffled golf laugh and avoid eye-contact]

ahem.



It eventually got so bad, that after finding a map of the trail, yet not being able to decipher which way was north, we took to turning S into a sundial to figure it out.

We kinda just went forward and hoped to see a white rock somewhere. We'd even take a white flower, at that point. Anything white, in fact and we're followin' ya.



What we found in the meantime was a nice waterfall....



With remnants of someone's campfire, complete with homemade chairs. There were only two, so S rolled a couple stones together and formed a third.

We decided to take a breather and snack on fruit and a sip of wine, cheersing to our inate ability to identify plants. For instance, the extremely rare reese's pieces plant, along with the more common purple gobstopper flower. I know, we're pretty savvy.



We hiked on and enjoyed streams of sunlight.



Then eventually found a spot to eat our lunch before hiking our way to the main overlook.





On the rock wall, we noticed engravings of various places and the distance away from there.

We followed the arrow and looked up.



Ah, there it is.

Take a deep breath and imagine sitting with your legs dangling on the other side of the wall, and a breeze blowing through your now slightly wet hair. I could've sat looking at that view all day.

But we couldn't. We had to get to our little cabin in the woods before sundown. We don't know what happens after sundown in these parts.



But I do know what happens at the cabin after sundown. Did someone say hot-tubbin' time? More exciting than that was forcing L to wear my vintage 1950s swimsuit which I unfortunately did not get a picture of.

Forget Ralphie's shotgun, the bra on this bathing suit could shoot your eye out. And who knows, maybe it did at one time.. because I'm pretty sure a pistol could have clear, level aim through those puppies.



The night was rounded out by a wine board game, which solidified the fact that I should not get into the wine business. S & L tried their best to help me...

Game card: "What color of wine are you drinking?"

Me: I dunno. Lemme see.... wait... it went down too fast. Ask me again.

But having Anne of Green Gables playing in the background solaced my hurt pride.

The next morning we narrowly escaped getting murdered by Garmin, as the road he took us down turned into a dry river bed. Seriously. But with S's help, I did a 40 point turn and we made it out.

All-in-all a relaxing weekend with the girls. Thank you so much for visiting, I had a wonderful time!

Fall colors

Yes, she made it over the fence.. right into R's arms. I think she squealed too. I was *this* close to asking them to hang out with us all day. Just full of laughter they were and a good spirit surrounding them.

We finished up the trail and walked back to the car.



On the way, we spotted this bridge/gate/entrance which I asked R to try out.



And when we finally arrived home to our room, there was a small raspberry birthday cake waiting for us. Yes, we ate it all. Only because we couldn't take it home and didn't want it to go to waste. Really. We were being extremely selfless in our actions.



The next day our flight didn't leave until the evening, which ended up being cancelled and us staying an extra night. If we had known that was going to happen, we'd have rerouted our last hours.

So we drove north to the Vermont/Massachusetts border and walked along the Robert Frost trail. Anytime I think of Frost, I always revert back to my almost collision with the Grandaddy Spider of year 2000's descendant. He almost got me, but I've been on my toes since that fateful day in my basement bedroom. Click here to read.



We started on the paved trail, but after I ran into the woods for a potty break (R had to keep watch for cyclists, and counted down 10 seconds as a couple were coming), I spotted an unpaved trail through the woods. Talk about less travelled!  It was absolutely crucial to do this one and on we went...



...All the way until we found the official Robert Frost Trail mailbox. You know, for you to send letters to ole Bob.

So, I left one.



Hey Bobby, I took the road less travelled a few years back and I'm still itching from that rash. Thanks for that, Carolyn.

I figured he wanted feedback on that poem, you know. Better late than never.



On our way out, we gave one last glance to the Vermont countryside and headed home. We will be back to this part of the country again, you can count on it.

Stairway to Hell

Up yours, Led Zeppelin. I know you really didn't climb those stairs, because if you had, you would've found out that there is no euphoric state of bliss at the top. No Willy Wonka wonderland, with gummy bear trees... no. Only a heart that is two seconds away from failure and eyes bulging to the edge of their lids.

I have been to Dante's Inferno and lived, my friends.  And at this moment, I am in heaven...sitting on my couch, watching Predator, and eating popcorn. No stairs involved.



Our friends had mentioned a place on the university's campus where people go to run stairs. "It hurts" was what they said.

Okay. I understand not wanting to hype up a movie to your friends before they see it, or rave about a meal you're about to serve, lest the letdown is so huge that it ruins your friendship.

But please. Please give extra emphasis if you're leading me into a near death experience.

We walked up to this hidden stairway amongst jungle-like leaves, wondering if at the top would be some ancient mayan ruin.



I was the first to lead and made it to, oh, about right where you see me before I wanted to call it quits. Call it quits and just head straight to the first buffet we saw. That's how defeated I was.

But I finally made it past the first barrier that I'm sure was in place for the people who climbed to the top and having no energy to walk back down, just heaved themselves down the steps.

No. I will make it.

No ancient mayan ruins. No gummy bear trees.

Just dormroom windows and a large sign "California." For a second, I really thought I had climbed to California and so decided to just lay on the ground until someone made me a casket.  I was born there, so no need to change the headstone. Just put in my epitaph "She died doing what she loved: cursing and fantasizing about chinese food."



In the end, we only managed to do six reps, but in our defense it was 103 degrees out. Ryan thought he had had a stroke and spent most of the time in walmart staring at puzzles in the game dept and swaying from side to side. My legs shook for a good half hour afterwards.

However, I'm ready to do it again.

Bring it, stairway. I will conquer you.

Warrior Dash

First of all, did anyone watch Betty White on SNL? Oh my. Love her.

Back to me.

I met up with some girlfriends down in Dallas for the Warrior Dash. It's a 3 mile run with obstacles.

And mud.

Lots of mud.



We walked into the courtyard, not knowing what to expect. Me, a pirate. Juice, wonderwoman.



Juice found some of her superhero friends while waiting for our heat to run.



The fire blasted and we were off!! I've taken some photos off of the website, so we're not in all of them. But we did *do* all of these, including swimming across a pond and swallowing muddy water in which I'm sure some people peed.





Hey! Here's me!! We had to jump over fire.

And apparently this is how I do it. Like a baby fawn just learning how to walk. Could you imagine me as a firefighter.



the last leg was in the mud pit, crawling under barbed wire. You got booed if you didn't get dirty.

I was too busy making sure my pirate sash covered my mid-section. Forget  trying not to collapse in the mud, did anyone have a girdle??

Here are the other girls we met up with down there. They all carried foam viking weapons through the race.



Afterwards, we hung out in the courtyard area, peeling off mud, and soothing our achy bones with cold ones. A band was playing in the back and we enjoyed people watching.

Something I'd do again and I think R would really like it.

After this, I've decided I just might skip on the mud bath option at a spa.

What the.

Why is there a muddy pirate posing next to a dirty Wonder Woman?

Details coming soon.

Figh-at Club

It has now been officially three days since all of us have begun living in the Anne Frank's attic. So far no one has killed each other, although there have been close calls.

You see, literally the moment N walked into the dorm room he pointed at each of us, including himself, and said "you're fat, you're fat, i'm fat, we're all going on a diet." Then proceeded to whip out a spreadsheet to chart our progress.

[side note: when I told the lady to whom I teach ESL, she said, "Ooohh (in a caring, sad way), but I don't think you(long pause)r husband's fat." That made me laugh. And then I immediately began a lesson on what not to say to women in the American culture.]

Here is the said spreadsheet.



Um.. Rude.

After I recovered from the shock of this multi-colored excel sheet of hell, he asked "So do you know what we're all doing next? We're going to the bathroom."

I laughed, thinking he meant that we were all going to literally go to the bathroom... you know, like Numero Dos. And then I saw N wasn't laughing. He really was waiting for us to go the bathroom.

Uh, this is weird. But hey, there are magazines in there I guess... WAIT. The scale is in the bathroom.

And like a dog being drug to the vet, I was pushed onto that small piece of unhappiness. How can such evil come from a simple machine?

After they coaxed me out of the closet and convinced me that no more harm would be done, R shoved me into the kitchen and ordered a 'before' photo be taken.

We made it through, marriage intact. N still lives with us, too. Barely. We've started P90X and I haven't been this sore since high school.

It is definitely no holds bar. But we're only on day 3, and I already feel more energetic. Maybe not necessarily happier. R said, "Yeah.. Let's all live in a dorm room, dramatically cut our calorie intake and start a really hard workout." There have been some bumps, but we'll get through.

This is going to be a good thing.

Catalina Island and beyond...

I'm not feeling very wordy today. So just follow me through the last day on Catalina Island...

But first, the night before. We popped a few more advil and sat in front of the fire to watch the sunset. Later, we would all snuggle our way into the tent to play Taboo for a couple hours. Knowing it was cold outside and us warm and safe in our sleeping bags helped soothe our achy bodies.



But I couldn't sleep. And neither could my brother.

So we spent most of the night staring at the moon and its reflection on the water, quietly thinking to ourselves. That's the good thing about M. You don't need to converse. You can just sit and drown yourself in thought.

Morning came almost too soon.



But, with morning came the sun. And oh how wonderful it felt on our faces.

So, let me take you on the hike back. I want you to imagine a slight breeze, crisp air, and warm sunshine. The ground was dry, but you could feel the moisture on everything green.

We hiked up hills, cut through the Others' neighborhood, ducked under canopies of trees... All of this with a smile on our faces. We were happy.



We arrived a couple hours later and enjoyed a nice lunch at the restaurant and a game of speed on Tinkerbell playing cards. And no, they weren't my cards. I had a falling out with Disney while working at an Equity Center in college. It was ugly. R had to endure the brunt of my anger so no one else would.



On the way back, I refused to sit inside. Instead, I wrapped myself up in a sleeping bag and sat on the top deck with eyes closed, just embracing the wind. I could live outdoors.



The next day we intended to hike up to the Hollywood sign, but we didn't make it very far. Our legs hurt.



This is what happens when I ask the brothers-in-law to "get together". R just stares at M's outreached hand.

We had a really good time. M & D were great hosts and you could tell they really wanted us to enjoy ourselves. And we did. Thanks you two!