The Adventures of Talimena Tammy

Turkey Day Solo

2011-10-25T15:00:00.000-05:00

This morning, I woke up determinedto catch up on housework, homework, laundry, mail, and basically everything I’vebeen ignoring for days, maybe weeks. Bythe way, if you haven’t received a reply regarding your Facebook message,email, text, or phone call, be assured that I have a sticky note on my desk withyour name on it.

My good intentions took a nosediveas soon as I opened the front door to take out the trash. What a beautiful day. No, make that Capital Letter, Underlined, BeautifulDay! The temperature was perfect,the sun shining, and a steady breeze carrying the faintest scent ofautumn. This was just too good to passup. I can do housework on rainy days, Iargued with myself. I didn’t have toargue long….myself didn’t put up much of a fight.

I grabbed my mountain bike, all my gear,tossed the trash in the dumpster as I passed by, and pedaled happily towardTurkey Mountain.

Riding alone at Turkey Mountain isnot something I do very often anymore. AndI usually let everyone else map out the route. To me, there are just too many choices. I’m like a kid in a candy store. I want to go here…no there…and I want that too, I can’t decide! So on the way over today, I tried to mentallywork out where I would ride. By the timeI reached TM, I still hadn’t come up with a plan. So I decided to just see where I landed.

The first place I tackled was thenewest trail with the tabletop jumps. Ihad ridden this once with Sharon, and it was time to try again. I locked out my rear suspension and droppedin. The first couple of jumps areusually pretty sketchy, but as I get warmed up they get better. I like the table tops because you have a sortof safety net. And I need that safetynet. But on a 29’er, I feel like aClydesdale in a steeplechase in that section.

I came out on the bike path,crossed over to ride Lo Chi, and then climbed to the top of Turkey. I decided to ride Tree Hugger, since I neededto work on my cornering. Tree Hugger is justthe place to do it. It’s a slightlydownhill single-track, curving its way through turn after turn with treeshugging the trail all the way down. Theride back up is an easy, gradual climb, making this the perfect place topractice my turns. I am determined toput the Squid nickname behind me. I wanta nickname that signifies determination…perseverance…speed….recklessness. Anything but Squid!

I rode Tree Hugger five or six times,getting braver and faster each time. Deciding to stop while I was ahead, I moved on to Millennium, the Northend of Hi Chi, then on to Jelly Legs. Ipopped out on the Snake and made my way back toward the parking lot, lookingfor the trail that Sharon had told me about, a trail that bisects theSnake. Sure enough, I found it and rodethrough. I couldn’t believe I had nevernoticed this trail before. Very sweetand fast. This would be a great one forthe Slademan to ride when he comes to visit, if I can pull him away from abook.

Soon it was back to the parking lotand onto the paved path home. Man, Ifelt so much better after getting out for the day! Time for a shower! While pedaling along on the ride back, I concludedthat mountain biking is like taking a mental shower. Forget the water, soap, and shampoo. Rinse your mind in adrenaline, and scrub yourworries away with a little fear and exhilaration!

Now to catch up onat least one or two things, and then get ready for my Swing Dance lessontonight! Fun, Fun!

Disappointment and Anticipation

2011-10-25T10:17:00.000-05:00

I had to work on Sunday, so I didn't get to race. But winter night rides are beginning soon and that should provide plenty of entertainment! Headlamps, mountain bikes, rocks, and trees. Roll the dice, baby!!
My friend, Sharon won the race so congratulations for her first win!! She thanked me profusely for not showing up. LOL! She claimed her new glasses caused her to hit a tree. And this photo is hilarious proof. Yes, that's a tree branch hanging out of her bike shorts!

And congrats to her son, the Mac Attack, for his first win. Look for him in the pros some day. He is awesome.

Keystone

2011-10-20T23:05:00.000-05:00

Tuesday morning began like anynormal day. I did a pretty mean homeweight workout, and then received a call from my #1 riding buddy Sharon.

“Want to ride the race course at Keystone today?” Since I was still pretty revved by my morningworkout, I readily agreed. “Sure! Come pick me up on your way.” Enthusiasm should always win out over common sense, in my opinion.

A mountain bike race would be atKeystone this weekend and I had missed riding the course with the LunaChixearlier in the week, so pre-riding the course today wouldn’t be a bad idea. I’m still not sure if I’ll be available onrace day, but just in case…

Weloaded my bike in the van and drove out to Keystone trail. After riding Turkey Mountain so often, this wouldbe a welcome change, I thought. Plus,Sharon informed me that they were omitting the “expert” loop from therace. Sweeeeet!

We began the first lap with Sharonsetting the pace. The first sectionswere not too bad, although there were several tight turns. Sharp, slow turns are my weakest point on themountain bike. I will volunteer to goover, up, or down almost anything, but don’t ask me to do a tight turn,especially if sand is anywhere in sight. I made the unfortunate mistake of confessing my weakness to the guys atthe Trek store recently. Jeff immediately offered a little trivia onthe subject of turning.

“Do you know that squids can’t turn? They can only go in straight lines,” he informedme. I still don’t know if that’s true,but Devon jumped in immediately and officially declared that I would hereby beknown as “Squid”. Great! Remind me never to confide in those guysagain.

So the first section I could usesome practice on. But the best was yetto come. One of the first of many hurdleswe encountered was a dry creek crossing, followed immediately by a technical uphillclimb. Sharon was unsuccessful on thefirst attempt, as was I. So we walkedour bikes back, studying the possible lines for the next attempt.

Sharon and I have a tried-and-true systemworked out for conquering obstacles. Shecarefully studies the lay of the land, assesses the angles, and tries to figureout the best line that offers even a remote chance of success.

“I think if you went around this,then veered quickly to the right, and then up the middle, don’t fall off thecliff on that side, and make sure you get up enough speed to get your fronttire over that….” It’s brilliantly simple. She maps it…I ride it. So far ithas worked out well.

In fact, after oncedeclaring a downhill section to be impossible, I noted that it had a slim possibilityof success if only a certain, annoying little tree wasn't blocking my path. She immediately wrestled the sapling to theground and I rode the section successfully, hence our saying when faced with adifficult obstacle. “If you’ll just holdback that tree, please….”

She mapped this one out perfectly andwe were able to ride it successfully on the subsequent attempt. Next up was a really tough one…a very narrow gapbetween two large boulders which would require unclipping at least one pedal tosqueeze through. Immediately followingthe rocks, we were faced with a rough creek crossing, then a very sharp rightturn up a steep hill. The difficulty we encountered was not beingable to get clipped back in fast enough to be ready for the loose, rocky uphillclimb on the other side. After a lot ofstudying, I was finally able to ride it, but only by veering off the trail on theother side and sort of straightening out the turn a bit.

Obstacle three was even tougher…crossinga difficult rock garden, followed by a downhill U-turn to the right, then anotherrock obstacle where one really needed to be attached to one’s bike. I finally conquered that one after several attemptsby powering through the first rock garden with breath held, fingers mentallycrossed, then unclipping my right foot and using it to maintain balance on theturn. I had to get clipped back inquickly, though, to get over the next few rocks. Whew! This is the course without the ‘expert’ loop? I do not want to see the expert loop anytimesoon!

One more difficult spot awaited us…along, technical climb that required what I call, “just gutting it out”. Concentrate on turning the pedals, stayingupright, moving forward, and letting the chips fall where they may. There was only one rock on the climb thatneither of us conquered, but we figured a little adrenaline on race day wouldprobably provide the solution.

We arrived back at the parking lotand decided to do a second loop. Thistime we knew where the most difficult spots were and would try to be betterprepared mentally. We joked that weshould post warning signs before each tough section. At the most challenging spot? Maybe just a picture of praying hands.

So now my goal is to find acoworker willing to switch days with me. And that may prove more challenging than any bike ride!

Warrior Dash 2011

2011-09-25T14:41:00.000-05:00

Today was the day! Warrior Dash had finally arrived. My mountain biking buddy, Sharon, had talked me into yet another crazyevent and now all those ~~weeks days hours~~ minutes of training were going to payoff. After all, I had run at least onemile, maybe two, in preparation for this outrageous event. I was ready! Besides, who could stay indoors on a beautiful day like this? Our friend Lisa had bailed on us for a realrace, so it was just the two of us today.

Wrong!

Our attire was a result of a last minute trip to theSalvation Army store. For a mere $17, wehad all our disposable clothing and we were ready to go. We met at my house and rode our bikes toTurkey Mountain, saving the $10 shuttle fee and a certain attack of motionsickness for me, I’m sure.

The Turkey Mountain parking lot had been transformed. Live music, beer, and lots of sights tosee. Some were so wrong…

And some were just right!

RIGHT!

We took our obligatory before photo, fresh and ready torun. This was going
to be a blast! We were in the 12:30 start wave, and took ourplaces in the crowd. After what seemedan eternity, a enormous plume of flames shot into the sky ahead of us, and webegan to slowly move forward. Afterfollowing the paved bike for a bit, we turned into the woods and onto themountain bike trail.

We decided early to drop to the back of the pack. This would enable us to take pictures andgoof around without holding anyone up. At least, we said it was a conscious decision. Maybe we decided as we dropped back. Eitherway, getting to the back of this pack was almost impossible. There were some seriously out-of-shape peoplein this fun crowd. For the first mile,we listened to the extremely labored breathing of a woman directly behindus. We tried moving ahead of her ordropping behind her, but somehow she kept turning up near us again, literallybreathing down our necks.

Our first obstacle was the Road Rage, a collection of junkcars and old tires. We grunted andgroaned our way up and over the cars and through the tires, heart ratesincreasing with every step. Wow. This was a full body workout.

Barricades & Barbed Wire

Next up were the barricades, alternating with barbed wirefences. The race site had optimisticallyinstructed that you hurdle the barricades and crawl under the fences. I think “hurdle” was a bit too strong todescribe my technique. The first fewmight have had vague hints of a hurdle, but by the third one, it could betterbe described as a pathetic slither. Andif you haven’t crawled under a barbed-wire fence in a while, let me tell you,it’s not as easy as it once was.

Rubber Ricochet

The Rubber Ricochet wasn’t too bad since we didn’t have alot of people swing the tires at us. However, that didn’t seem to help Sharon stay on course. Of course, nothing does…

The Cliffhanger was next. Described as rappelling down a steep ravine on the website, a slightalteration in plan had developed. We were actually rappelling up theravine. Fortunately, it really couldn’tbe described as steep. That was an easyone. No sweat. We then turned left onto the Lo Chi trail. Sharon and I are very familiar with thisterrain from a mountain bike perspective. But today it didn’t seem to flow quite like it did when you wereattached to the pedals.

Chaotic Crossover

By now, we were back in sync with the gasping womanagain. I gained a little reassurancewhen I saw the medics up ahead. At leasthelp was nearby if she needed it. Because up ahead was the first challenge with some real teeth to it—theChaotic Crossover. An elevated platformwith cargo netting stretched across. What made this an awkward crossing was that as you were stepping down,someone else nearby was also putting weight on the ropes, causing a seesawmotion that really threw you off balance.

After a brief rest stop for water, we began to climbup. There was no speed involved here atall, since it was now single file. Thiswas more like a very crowded hike. Avery crowded steep hike. As we passed by, a guy was off to the side ofthe trail. He was trying to be unobtrusive as he lost his breakfast orlunch. Or maybe he had one of thosegiant turkey legs and beer before the start. Whatever it was, he helpfully called out advice to us as we passed by. “Know your limitations!”

I had to laugh. If wehaven’t learned them by now, it probably wasn’t going to happen. Next up was a girl, sitting down with acouple of medics tending to her with oxygen. We continued to the top and gratefully some level ground.

The Deadweight Drifter awaited us next. Thank goodness it had rained recently orthis could have been really bad. Notonly would we have been choking on dust up to this point, but the pond wouldhave been so stagnant and shallow we could have walked over it. The water was cold, though, so I had to justhold my nose and go underwater all at once. I am still not a cold water person and slowly wading in is justtorture. This obstacle was actually ablast once you acclimated to the water. After a post swim photo, we were off to the Cargo Climb.

The Cargo Climb was just too much fun. We lingered there to take a few morephotos. Next up were the Deadman’s Dropand the Giant Cliffhanger. Neither ofthese lived up to their names, although I did see a girl take an amusing tumblefrom the Cliffhanger. But she was OK, nodamage done.

The route then took us down the trail known as the LipBuster. At the bottom, MuddyMayhem! A pit full of mud! How much more fun can you get? I managed to get in a great slide and thenmimicked swimming across the rest. Had Iknow this area was being broadcast on a giant screen in the parking lot, Imight have taken a more ladylike approach. I could have stayed here allday! We emerged onto pavement again,with a huge crowd behind the ropes, watching the action. They were all so clean! And here I was, standing in an inch of slimymud. I stomped my foot down firmly andwatched the mud splatter a few in the front. That got such a response that I pretended to slide my foot to throw mudover everyone. I didn’t, but judging bytheir cheers, I think they would have enjoyed it.

Finally, the Warrior Roast. I attempted to snap a photo of Sharon jumping over the flames, butdidn’t time it right. By now my camerawas so dirty that I couldn’t see the screen, it was point, shoot, and hope forthe best.

After rinsing off, we picked up our belongings and made ourway to the beer tent for our free beer. I hate beer, but since I had officially earned this, I was required todrink it. We milled about a bit longer,then grabbed our bikes and headed back.

This was a great event. I would highly recommend it for the sheer fun factor. But if you want to place better than we did,don’t stop to goof around and take pictures. We placed 3049^th and 3053^rd out of about 7500entrants. Yes, while I was graciously entertaining the troops and taking photos, Sharon deviously passed me in the ranks. No wonder she had that smirk on her face asshe jumped the fire!

BUT THERE'S ALWAYS NEXT YEAR, TRAITOR!!

Making her break for the finish line

What?? You're Still Here???

2011-09-23T19:55:00.000-05:00

Sorry old blog. I had almost forgotten you. But here you still sit, faithful, loyal, patiently waiting. So now that I've found you again, I think I'll resume my posts. So what if a couple of years have gone by? I'll start with tomorrow's race...The Warrior Dash.

It is described as as "a mud-crawling, fire-leaping, extreme run from hell. This fierce running series is held on the most challenging and rugged terrain across the globe. Warriors conquer extreme obstacles, push their limits, and celebrate with kick-ass music, beer, and warrior helmets."

How could this go wrong?

....in too many ways to count...

Hmmm...

2011-02-09T19:20:00.000-06:00

Isn't Life The Most Wonderful Thing?

The Temptations of Tulsa Time

2010-07-13T12:36:00.002-05:00

Living on Tulsa Time is pretty sweet, I’ve found. I miss my family, of course, but there are so many things to fill the hours. So many choices…so little time! And unfortunately, moderation is not my strong point.

The first temptation is road cycling, naturally. I purposely chose my living quarters to be right along the bike path. I can practically step out my door and onto the River Trail to ride or run anytime. It is one sweet setup, I guarantee. And you can always find someone interesting to ride with or a sweet wheel to latch onto.

Also, the Wednesday night ride begins just across the river. The WNR is both a ride and a social event. After the ride, everyone sits around visiting and consuming alcoholic beverages, if available. Fortunately, my friend Scott brought wine for me which resulted in my first intoxicated ride home on the bike. Thank goodness I don’t have to ride on the streets!

The second temptation is mountain biking. So far I just haven’t had time to include a ride on Turkey Mountain. I’ve been told that it can be very technical and you can find yourself in some precarious predicaments if you don’t know the trails…and I don’t. Fortunately, I met Heidi, one of the Luna Chix, at the Wednesday night ride last week. So I’m sure that I’ll be hitting the trails with the Luna Chix very soon. Since my next adventure includes riding from Durango to Moab on a mountain bike in August, you would think I would be practicing a bit. But, as I’ve said before, common sense and moderation are not my strong points.

The third temptation is running. The Fleet Feet store conducts a coaching program for various runs throughout the year. I signed up last week to train for the Route 66 Half Marathon. The sign-up instructions stated that, in order to join this group, you should be able to “run four miles without stopping”.

Since I don’t run very often, I paused a moment to consider this before filling out the form. My final, convoluted conclusion was that just because I don’t run four miles without stopping, doesn’t mean that I can’t run four miles without stopping. Right? Isn't that what they really mean?

So I attended the first training run on Saturday. The humidity level, just short of rain, combined with the heat to create an atmosphere surprisingly similar to warm maple syrup. I made the five miles without stopping. Very impressive, I thought at the time. But today, instead of being outside moving, I’m sitting here wincing with every movement. The sounds I make when I'm forced to change positions must have the neighbors close to dialing 911.

The fourth temptation is swimming. One of the perks of St. John employment is the use of the health club at a discounted price. Gary, who works at the front desk, took my photo for my Health Club ID. Gary is undoubtedly the worst photographer in the entire history of photography! In my photo, I appear to have been on a 10-day drunk, followed by a serious, near-fatal illness for several weeks.

I am forced to surrender this hideous ID card every time I check in for a workout. When I return to pick up my ID card, Gary inevitably searches the counter for my card saying, “Now where is that annoying photo?” Funny guy, that Gary!

In addition to the weight workouts, spin classes, and yoga, the health club has two swimming pools. Since I’ve never been much of a swimmer, I imposed on my triathlon friend, David, to teach me the basics of swimming.

David’s patience was put to the test on swim lesson day, I’m sure. The first thing we learned is that I cannot swim a single lap without a nose plug. It never fails that water migrates up my nose to the most painful spots imaginable. So now I wear a nose plug when I swim. Also, the water seems to have a love/hate relationship with my ears. It loves to plug them up and I hate it! So I also have earplugs. A ridiculous orange swim cap and goggles complete the picture. Thank goodness I’m past the point in my life where I care what people think about my appearance!

David informed me that I had pretty good speed “for a beginner”. I tried to pretend that it was due to some inborn natural physical ability and talent. But deep down inside, I knew that it was probably a result of my wide, flipper-like feet. They’re like propellers in the water!

And the best thing about swimming lessons is learning that the health club also has a hot tub!!!! It’s hidden away behind a glass wall near the therapeutic pool. I don’t think a lot of people are aware that it exists and I usually have it all to myself. It’s HEAVEN after a 12-hour shift! And Life is GOOD!

Hiking is another temptation that competes for my time. Teressa and I hiked Turkey mountain with the local Outdoor Club on my first week here. I joined the group and attended the annual picnic. Interesting people indeed. I received an invitation to hike the Northwest Trail in Oregon next year. Something to think about for sure!

One of the guys I met at the Wednesday Night Ride informed me that the rowing club has a beginners class. I’ve seen the rowing club members in action, early in the morning, gliding up or down the river. Working in unison, they are the picture of cooperation and teamwork. I want to do that!

Now, if I can only figure out a way to fit 48 hours into a 24 hour day…

Montana Mania

2010-02-27T14:49:00.000-06:00

Last winter, I visited my friend Kyle in Montana. Our plans included skiing, hot springs, and snowshoeing.

The skiing was great. I took lessons on one day, but they really didn't seem to help much. I have come to the unfortunate conclusion that downhill skiing is just not my thing. It's nice for the first couple of runs, but unless you're really able to spend a lot of time at it, it's really not very challenging or exciting.

The scenery was beautiful, though!

And Kyle loves skiing! And he was extremely experienced and able to handle anything...even backwards...downhill...holding a camera!

My favorite part of the entire trip, though, was the snowshoeing trek up to a former fire watchtower, West Fork Butte. These former watch towers are now used to house overnight travelers on the mountain. The hike up was long and arduous. There were times when I thought I could not force my legs to take another step.

The snow was extremely deep and the Moose tracks were evident everywhere, although we never actually saw one.

Finally, we arrived near the summit and the sign directed us up toward the peak.

Kyle gathered firewood for enough fuel to get us through the night. My reward was a warm fire, good food, and the most comfortable bed I've ever slept in!

The hot springs are another attraction on the trip to Montana. They are actually located just across the border in Idaho, I believe. Kyle walked down to test the temperature on these pools and they were perfect!

The view was a little hard to stomach at times...

But the overall experience is satisfying indeed!

On the return trip, rather than picking my way carefully on foot, I couldn't resist sliding the nature slide.

When we met these girls and showed them the video, they returned to their car to gear up and do the same thing.

Another bonus of the Northwest? Ding Dongs in foil wrappers! Yes, there is a difference! I emailed this photo to Shaina and receive the reply..."You better bring me some of those!"

The Ding Dongs didn't last long. I think I ate a whole box full on my return trip.

I can't wait to go back!!

I'm Famous...sorta.

2009-12-28T12:37:00.004-06:00

Today I received the following message from Nuno in Portugal.

Hi Tammy,

How was Xmas???
Remember that funny picture?? It's on 2010 A2Z - Adventures catalog.......

Check it out on this link:
http://www.facebook.com/l/9109f;www.a2z-adventures.com/download/cat_a2z_A4_2010.pdf

Hope you have a great new years....
Kiss,
Nuno

I clicked on the link and sure enough, page 15 of the A2Z Adventures brochure revealed me pulling Deanna on a 'historical bike trailer'. I had to laugh out loud when I saw it. I remember that day so well. And that particular photo almost never came to be.

That trip was wonderful in so many ways. Not only for the scenery and the challenging bike rides, but also because we had such a personal tour. Our guided tour was of the historical villages. Each day we rode from one ancient castle site to the next while our luggage was transported for us. A large group had also booked the week with us, but they canceled at the last minute. That left only me and Deanna, the only two clients for the entire week trip! Nuno would ride with us every day, pointing out the sites, while Felipa would transport our luggage and provide support along the way.

Nuno leads all sorts of tours all over the world. His quick smile, twinkling eyes, and devilish sense of humor makes him an intriguing companion. He educated us along the way on customs of the land, along with everything we encountered. There didn't seem to be anything of which he wasn't knowledgeable.

Felipa was more quiet, soft spoken, but just as quick. Her English was not quite as good as Nuno's, but we easily understood her. And she set the meanest picnic table in all of Portugal, I'm sure.

On that particular day, Nuno, Deanna, and I were riding along a quiet country lane when we came upon a quaint little cart sitting beside the road. I glanced at Deanna to find her glancing at me.

"Oh, we have to," I said. "It's our duty to take that picture!" We explained to Nuno that we wanted to stage a photo with the cart. He wasn't too keen on the idea.

"If that cart is parked here, you can bet that the farmer is nearby," he explained. "I don't think he would be too happy if he caught us playing with his farm equipment."

We made a half-hearted attempt to talk him into it, but he remained reluctant. I was a bit disappointed, but willing to defer to his judgment. I could understand that he was responsible for us and, in part, for our actions on this trip. Cavorting through the countryside, trespassing and commandeering local farm equipment for his client's entertainment might not be the best image to project. So I just took a photo of the cart, remounted my bike and began pedaling away. I hadn't gone far when they called out.

"Tammy, come back!" Deanna shouted. Evidently Nuno had changed his mind. He was waging an inner battle between keeping his customers happy and not causing alarm to the locals. He would take the photo for us while keeping an eye out for the missing farmer. He urged us to be quick, so we took our places and he snapped this photo...

"One more," we begged. From a slightly different angle in order to include more of the rock fence. This is the one they used in the brochure...

"Ok, Tammy, but look like you're really pulling hard..." Nuno instructed. He was beginning to warm up to this idea...

"Ok, now Deanna, you get in front, and Tammy, you lie down, just taking it easy..." Nuno was quickly getting into his director's role. The mystery farmer was becoming a distant memory.

"Ok, now we'll do one with all of us," he decided. Now he was director and actor! He set the camera up, instructed us on proper form, and jumped into the photo. I was laughing so hard I could barely sit upright! I think this one should have been in the brochure! This is classic Nuno!!

If anyone is thinking of a tour anywhere in the world, I would check out A2Z Adventures before anyone else. And if you happen to end up with Nuno and Felipe, consider yourself very lucky indeed!! : )

Wichita Weekend: Plan B

2009-12-21T09:22:00.005-06:00

Last month, I had planned to meet Teressa at Camp Doris for a relaxing weekend. There was a meteor shower coming up and we had hopes that, although we were early, we could still spot an occasional shooting star.

I had phoned my friend, Ed, to inform him that I was heading his way. I wasn't sure if I would have much time to spend with him since Teressa was bringing friends with her. I wasn't sure if our schedules and interests would mesh.

But as I drove across the Wildlife refuge, I came upon three riders...

It was Ed and two of his riding buddies, Tom and Mario! We stopped and chatted for a while. I told Ed that I would determine my schedule with Teressa and see what we could do. At the very least, we could go grab a bite to eat together.

I arrived at Camp Doris to find that Teressa had gone home already. Evidently, we had crossed our wires somewhere. And this time we were both blonde. I thought that she was staying a day longer. She thought I was coming a day earlier. So as I was driving in, she was driving out!
When I found that Teressa had already gone, I immediately phoned Ed and informed him that it was now his sole duty to entertain me for the next day or two.

"Well, we're sitting around drinking wine and eating peanuts," he told me. "We'll save you some peanuts. Come on over!"

Ed has a small cabin near Lake Lawtonka in Medicine Park. A carpenter by trade, he built the cabin himself. It is so cute! We sat around drinking wine from a box, eating peanuts, and discussing everything under the sun. They were surprised to learn that I was inclined to lean toward a liberal view of things, particularly politics and religion. Everyone always seems to be amazed by this. Even Ed seemed surprised. "Considering where you're from..," they always add. I'm never quite sure what that phrase means.

"What do you mean by that?" I ask.
"Well, I don't know," Ed stammered. "Idabel just seems like it wouldn't produce very many liberals or open-minded people."
"We do have to keep a low profile," I told him. "But we exist quietly, in the shadows. And I don't think Idabel is what you imagine."
Tom looked around the room.
"That makes four liberals - in one small room - at the same time - in Oklahoma," he observed. "I expect the National Guard to break the door down any moment."
We all laughed, but there was a tiny moment of unease while we glanced at the door...

"All right, time to make plans for tomorrow!" I decided.
We discussed possibilities. I didn't bring any bikes, thinking that I would be with Teressa and her gang, so biking was out. That left hiking...
"I still want to find that cave up on Elk Mountain," I told them.
"Oh, you like caves?" Tom asked. He went on to tell me of a cave that we could visit the next day. I learned that Tom is the foreman of a huge ranch in the area. A transplanted Englishman, he loves his Queen and tea. He's also quite a storyteller, one of those people who remember almost everything they read...facts, numbers, everything. And something about his voice, that accent...it was vaguely familiar...

"It was you! You left a message on my phone one time!" I said. "Something about 'polishing canoes' and 'fishing'!" I remembered now - I had spoken to him before while talking to Ed on the phone. I learned that this was when I received most of my phone calls from Ed, while sitting around in smelly bike clothes, drinking wine and eating peanuts...that's when they thought of me! How endearing! I feel so loved!

In fact, they made many phone calls while drinking wine after bike rides. The most recent was to a televangelist. Tom called to make inquiries about his upcoming fortune.
"I've sent you all me money," he told them. "And now I'm just wonderin' when my fortune will start rolling in. The children are gettin' hungry..." Oh brother! I think they have the televangelist on speed dial and call him often. It is their preferred form of entertainment.

The next day I arrived at Ed's and we drove over to Tom's place. He insisted that we have a cup 'o tea before we leave. This was the best tea I've ever had. It's called Builder's Tea and, according to Tom, it is the only tea to drink. It comes in strange little triangular bags and must be steeped an exact amount of time at an exact temperature. I can't remember all the rules, but the result was an excellent cup of tea!

I also learned that we would be doing chores before visiting the cave. First we had to feed and water the cows. Tom used a tractor to load a monstrous bale of hay onto the back of the truck, while his dogs watched closely. You could see that they were ready to go somewhere.

"You should see how Tom has these dogs trained," Ed told me. Sure enough, if Tom told them to stay, they would lie down and not move a muscle. But those eyes would be watching his every move. When he gave the signal, they would jump up, happy to be moving again.

"He once put a piece of steak on that dog's nose and told him not to eat it," he said. "We went in the house and came out quite a while later and that dog was still sitting there with that steak on his nose!" I was impressed. I worked with Dumpster some and had him trained to sit, but I don't know if he would ever have done the steak thing. It was easy to see, though, that Tom loved his animals, even though they were obviously working dogs too. However, they would not be coming along on this trip.We made a short detour to one of the barns to look at Tom's airplane, a work in progress. It was beautiful indeed. I also drooled a bit over his time trial bike - very nice!

Soon we were on our way to feed the cows. According to Tom, these were heifers who had their first calf this year. He drove that truck across terrain that had me gritting my teeth. That is one tough truck! We finally arrived on top of a ridge looking down at the cows below. The sound of petulant mooing wafted up to us.

"Hang on, girls, I'm coming!" Tom yelled out to them. We drove down a seemingly impassable road to the watering trough below. Then I was put into the driver's seat to creep along while Tom and Ed threw the hay off the back. When the truck was empty, we stopped to admire our handiwork. A small group of cows and calves stood nearby, watching us warily.

Tom turned to me and grinned. "I also have these cows trained," he bragged, eyes twinkling. "They will kneel down on their front legs at my command."
Now this I would have to see to believe.
"I've never heard of anyone training cows," I said skeptically. Ed shrugged and raised his eyebrows as if to say "I have no idea". Tom turned slowly toward the group of wary cattle. Their eyes watched him closely, bodies tense.

"Okay, girls," he spoke to them softly, moving very slowly with hand raised. "We've been working on this. I want you to all kneel together. But only on the count of three. Just like we practiced. No premature knee-bending now, girls. I want to be proud of you...." He continued speakingsoftly to them, barely keeping a straight face or the laughter out of his voice. Their large cow eyes were studying him, transfixed. I was thinking that this guys spends waaay too much time with his cows when he suddenly threw his hands out and yelled sharply.

All the cows were so startled that their front legs went weak and buckled immediately! The effect looked like a chorus line of kneeling cows! It was the funniest thing I've seen in a long time. But then I am easily amused!

Finally, we were off to the cave. This particular cave was on ranch property, nestled between the giant windmills that dominate the landscape north of the wildlife refuge. I've always wanted to see one of these windmills up close and this was my chance. These things are huge!

We stood directly below the giant blades as they turned, listening to the eerie "whoosh" as they passed overhead. Awesome!
The roads connecting the windmills would also make for some great mountain biking someday!

Tom turned the truck off the road and proceeded across the field toward a crease in the landscape. Again, the ability of this truck to navigate the boulders hidden in the tall grass was incredible. Any moment, I expected to hear a disastrous 'crunch' from under the truck, but it kept going. I just hoped we could make it out without high-centering on a boulder!

We stopped close to a barbed-wire fence, gathered all the gear, and followed Tom over to the entrance of the cave. We had been racing the clock to get here before nightfall. Hopefully, we would be able to get back out before too late. Getting out of here at night could be tricky.

Several metal rods were mounted across the opening of the cave. These were used to tie off to in order to lower yourself down. I looked over the edge into the abyss. A rock ledge protruded about 30 feet below, and beyond that, only darkness.

We could rappel down. Climbing out could be done in a pinch, but it would be difficult and dangerous. Tonight we would be winched out by Tom, who would stay above ground while Ed and I explored the cave below. Evidently, one of Tom's duties as ranch foreman was to provide guided tours to the cave.

"You guys gear up while I set up the winch," Tom instructed.
It had been a while since I had strapped myself into a climbing harness, but it quickly came back to me. As I finished, I looked up to see Ed above me, struggling to figure out where everything went. At that moment I learned that he had never rappelled before. It occurred to me that allowing your friends to tie you to a rope and drop you into a cave signifies the height of trust!

Soon enough though, we were on our way! I lowered myself to the bottom, followed by Ed. Our equipment included lights and a walkie-talkie to communicate with Tom up above. We found one of the passageways that Tom had told us about earlier. It disappeared into the darkness below and I could see my light reflecting off the dark water at the bottom. According to Tom, you could dive under the water down there and come up into a secret room on the other side. It was far too cold tonight to test that theory, though.

We inspected some of the tiny bats clinging to the walls. I tried not to get too close or brush up against them, remembering that bats are frequent carriers of rabies. We also found a colorful frog, but I didn't have my camera. We slogged around for a while, and then it was time to go back up, hopefully before complete darkness. We tied back up to the ropes, one attached to the winch, the other tied to one of the iron bars above. While Tom ran the winch, we would need to keep the slack out of the rappelling rope for safety. If the winch rope failed, we would still have the rappelling rope for support.

I tied in and Ed radioed up to begin hoisting. Slowly, the rope began to tighten and I began to inch my way up the wall. I had gone about 5 feet when movement stalled. The bats were waking up and getting hungry. An occasional bat would fly past my ear, heading up into the night to feed. We had joked earlier that Tom, being English and absolutely rabid about tea times, would leave us dangling while he had his evening tea.

After some radio communication, we learned this was not the case, that he was just having difficulty juggling the rope and the winch on uneven ground alone. We learned that he usually had two people performing this task. I eventually made my way back to the top, in fits and starts. I unclipped and set up to help Tom get Ed back up. It was definitely a two-man job. He explained that he had used both hands, one foot, and his teeth to get me out.

As we began pulling Ed out, Tom began telling me about riding bikes with Ed.
"We make plans to ride and I work my butt off to get finished working in time," he complained. "But if we plan to ride at 5 pm, and I arrive at 5:06, he is already gone. I have to ride like mad to catch him. He calls it tough love..."
The winch stalled. His eyes were twinkling.
"Tough love," he called out to Ed below, who was now within hearing distance. I heard Ed yell back something about the tightness of the climbing harness and an inability to have children in the future.
Despite Tom's maniacal desire for payback, we did eventually haul Ed out of the darkness. By now, the sky had turned to dark purple, the wind had picked up, and the windmills were humming!
We quickly gathered the gear and headed back to the truck.
Driving out of the boulder-strewn field was quite an experience after dark. After several route changes, we made our way back onto the road next to the windmills. Then we made another stop at one of ranch houses on the property.

"You have to see the Spring House and see some of Ed's handiwork," Tom said. The site had once been a public swimming area in the 20's and 30's, I think. Ed had been hired to help turn the old concession stand into a vacation home for the ranch owners.

This place was fabulous. The original beams still crossed the ceiling and the effect was stunning. There are not many houses I am jealous of, but this one was beautiful. Not too big, and the back door opened onto a rock patio that overlooked the rebuilt swimming area. I could see that Ed is a talented carpenter! We hung around, drank a glass of wine, and then locked up and drove out.

Later, Tom handed me a huge bag of Builder's Tea as we were leaving his house. Free Tea is not technically free 'food', but it's close enough!

Ed offered to buy my dinner since I didn't allow Tom to inflict 'tough love' and leave him in the cave. Of course I accepted. More Free Food! He took me to a place in Medicine Park called The Old Plantation. It was built a hundred years ago as an Inn and is now a restaurant. I had Salmon on a Plank. I know, it sounds weird, but it was wonderful. I will certainly dine there again someday!

I returned to my tent at Camp Doris, well-fed and exhausted. After a good night's sleep, I arose to begin my drive home. Missing Teressa had been disappointing, but getting to spend the weekend with Tom and Ed was certainly a satisfying Plan B!!

Next trip...

2009-12-19T12:21:00.002-06:00

My next trip will be SNOW SKIING! Yes! A friend is also working on side trips with snowmobiling and snowshoeing!

Looking at prices for flights, lift tickets...etc.

Also looking at the price of ski lessons. Has anyone taken ski lessons? Is it worth it? Have any tips? I need help!

Santa Freakin' ROCKS!!!

2009-12-18T19:46:00.003-06:00

I arrived home tonight from work to find a little something at my back door...

Hmmm, I thought. Evidently, one of Santa's little helpers stopped by today. Wonder what's up? I took the package inside and opened it to find.....

YEP! A Real LiveStrong Jersey!

Holy Cow!! This is not Santa's Little Helper....I think the Big Man himself made this delivery!! Wherever you are tonight, Super Santa, I hope you have a warm, fuzzy feeling like I do!! YOU'RE AWESOME!!

I must have been really good this year!! : )
Thanks soooo much!

Human Rule Machine

2009-12-14T12:54:00.004-06:00

The Slademan came to visit recently, carrying a deck of cards in his hand.
"Hey, Tammy," he greeted me. "Want to play a game of cards with me?"

Cards, I thought, innocently unsuspecting. I loved to play card games when I was a kid! Slap Jack, Books, Crazy 8's. Those were some fun games.
"Sure, I'll play with you! I used to love card games," I bragged. "I was really good at Slap Jack. Do you want to shuffle or do you want me to?"
He gazed calmly at me, something akin to pity in his eyes.
"Well," he explained patiently, palm upturned. "This is Pokemon. We don't shuffle a lot in Pokemon. Do you know how to play?"
Do I know how to play? It's a card game! And isn't Pokemon the name of a cartoon? How hard could it be? I say, I say, don't patronize me, son! I could handle this with one hand tied behind my back, especially with no shuffling!
"Let's play!" I said.

He whipped out a deck of cards, several inches tall. He gave a few, extremely sparse instructions and doled out cards to each of us.

"OK," he offered politely. "I'll let you attack first."
Attack?
"We're playing cards, right?"
"Well, technically, we're playing Pokemon," he explained. "But it's played with cards."
I looked carefully at my cards. Each card was encrusted with instructions, facts, codes, symbols, and various numbers.
"How do I know which card to play?" I was truly puzzled. "And how do I play it?"
"Well, why don't you start by just laying down two cards, any cards."
I threw down two cards.
He studied his own pile of cards, poring over each one carefully.
"Well, since that attack doesn't do much to me, I'm going to call out one of my attacks." More studying. He pushed my card back at me. "C shot. This one will have to retreat because my attacks are both two and three."
What the.....?

"OK, now choose two more cards," he instructed.
I chose two more and threw them down blindly.
He reached over and pushed one back at me.
"No, this one is an energy. Pick two Pokemons." He held up two fingers, like it was the number I was having trouble with. "Two," he repeated helpfully.
I tossed another card into the ring.
"OK, you have Ponita and Tuna." At least, it sounded like Tuna. It was far too early in the game to begin asking stupid questions.
Slade looked up at me quizzically and asked, "Which one is going to be your base attacker?"
He continue to stare at me, as if I could give him a reasonable answer. I stared back mutely. Finally, he took pity and pointed to the one on the left.
"This is the one that guards." Something in his voice said that guarding would be a good idea.
"Yeah, I choose this one, this guarding guy."

"OK. To make a move you can use two energies to use one jump or one energy to use sniff-out."
I closed my eyes and pointed at something.
"OK. So you use sniff-out. So flip a coin."
He magically produced a coin from his pocket, which I obediently flipped.
"OK, heads," he interpreted. "So you pick up two cards from your discard pile and you can keep one."
I put one card back into my line-up.
"Now it's my turn to attack," he informed me. He looked my cards over. "Sorry, but both your guys retreat again. All of them."
"All of these?" I asked incredulously.
"Yes, well, if your attack had two things, like lunge-out or guilty, I would have retreated, but you didn't use those attacks," he explained.
"OK, so what do I do?"
He pushed three of my cards across the table.
"All three of these have to retreat. Oh, and after you use an energy, you have to discard it too." He threw another of my cards on the discard pile. "So pick some more Pokemons."

I threw more cards on the table.
"Ok, so you have Electrode and that hard name. Mag..nem...di...con.. something."
My cards seem to have no effect on him. He was indestructible. He played again. More retreating on my side.
Finally, it was my turn to attack again. According to him, I somehow managed to do 30 damage to his card. He whipped out pencil and paper and pushed it toward me.
"Write down minus 30 to D___clop. Do you need that spelled for you?"
I pushed the paper back. "Why don't you just keep score?"
After some furious scribbling, he played again.

What followed was a confusing, intricate array of swifts, power-ups, energies, pokebodies, low currents, coin-flips, power-damages, discards, attacks, and retreats. There was benching, evolving, and breath-freezing. Some cards were asleep, confused, paralyzed, or poisoned. I've never seen so many rules in one game! What ever happened to Slap Jack? It was so simple: You see a Jack, you slap it.

"How the heck did you learn all these rules?" I finally asked, exasperated.
His reply was simplicity at its finest.
"I read the rule book."
Oh, of course. The Sacred Rule Book! A light bulb went on in my head and I remembered something I had once read in my Developmental Psychology textbook.

"Eight-year-olds are Human Rule Machines. Playing by the rules, doing things in a particular sequence, ranking things, rating and judging them-- this is a major preoccupation of most children this age, permeating practically everything they do…"

I realized that, at my age, I had no chance of winning against this 8-year-old human rule machine. The only chance at a dignified exit lay in attack, using another 8-year-old developmental stage against him.

....The eight-year old also begins to have a big appetite....

"Hey, I know what!" I exclaimed. "Let’s go get something to eat!"

Oh yeah. I can still do eating!

Palo Duro Canyon

2009-12-07T16:18:00.007-06:00

Ah, Palo Duro Canyon! Roy and I have had reservations for some time now. No, not the 'doubting' kind of reservations. I mean the can't-wait-to-get-there and we-have-a-cabin-reserved kind of reservations. Cow Cabin #3 would be ours for two nights! After a busy work week, I know I was ready for a break.

I should tell you now that I took, literally, dozens of photos of this trip. But within minutes of arriving home, I had deleted every last one of them. Of course, it was Roy's fault, entirely!
You see, while I struggled through school, I crashed computer after computer with frightening regularity. Roy would rebuild them with spare parts, MacGyver style, over and over again. Crawling under my desk, a hand would emerge, fingers snapping, "I need a 20-inch shoelace and a large paper clip". Sparks and cursing would ensue, but to his credit, each time I would end up with a working computer. Unfortunately, every time I came upon a glitch, guess who I phoned?

"Roooooy, there's something wrong with this damned free computer," I would whine ungratefully. Silence. "Roy, are you there?"
A long frustrated sigh. "Yeah, I'm here."
"Well, I just don't understand what happened. This screen came up and it said whatever you do, don't blah,blah,blah, so of course I blah, blah, blah'd,........and then it just crashed, out of nowhere, totally unexpected! I was just sitting here minding my own business. I just don't understand why this keeps happening to me. Am I cursed?" By now, the whine in my voice would peak somewhere beyond irritating and just short of nagging.

Another sigh, as if Roy knew who was cursed, and it wasn't me. "I'll come by tomorrow after working all day, then taking care of my parents, but before working on my house. Who cares if I don't have running water. I live to serve." Sometimes, if I really listen, I can almost detect a hint of sarcasm in his voice.
After the latest computer crash, he made a brilliant, if somewhat self-serving, suggestion.
"Hey, now that you have a real job," he proposed, "why don't you buy a real computer?"
Since I am not one to ignore faint hints of possible upcoming violence, I allowed him help me choose a new computer. This one has all the bells and whistles. One of those whistles allows me to insert my memory card directly into the computer. Unfortunately, instead of uploading the photos to my hard drive, I only viewed them. By the time I finished looking, I forgot that I was just viewing them, so when I reinserted the card into my camera, I cleared it.

Yikes! That means that Roy's photos are the only photographic evidence of the entire trip. And, as I've said countless time before, I never actually get to see Roy's photos. Besides, he doesn't like to photograph people, especially me. He has promised to send them...we'll see. Anyway, back to my story.

We left for the canyon immediately after work on Thursday, driving to Sherman, Texas, where we spent the night. We enjoyed a decadent IHOP breakfast since we are beginning a grueling winter workout schedule and diet once we returned home.

Really!

It was still a long drive to Palo Duro Canyon. After a brief stop at the gate to get maps and retrieve our keys, we drove straight down to the cabin to unload our gear. As I pulled my lawn chair from the bed of the pickup, it fell open to reveal a tiny, frozen lizard. He fell to the sidewalk, belly up, looking miserable - and dead. I was pretty sure he was dead.
"Oh, he must have been hiding in my lawn chair and he froze to death on the way here!"
I bent down to examine him and thought I saw him twitch. I picked him up and carried him inside to lay him on the mantle.
"Maybe he'll warm up slowly." He did eventually warm up and, by evening, had disappeared into the nether regions of the cabin, never to be seen again. However, we did hear some late night paper-rattling that he could have been responsible for.

I prefer to think is was him.

Roy had stocked up on chocolate, graham crackers, and mini-marshmallows. He was determined to construct Smores. I, personally, have never seen or tasted a successful Smore. Oh, I've heard the stories - mythical, magical Smore stories of graham crackers, melted chocolate, and gooey marshmallow goodness. Tall tales from seemingly credible witnesses. I've witnessed several unsuccessful attempts at making Smores. Like ghosts, the Loch Ness monster, and Bigfoot, I will remain forever doubtful about the delectability of Smores until I can experience it for myself.

We built a Smores fire in the fireplace, which immediately belched smoke and set off the smoke alarm. Evidently, the fireplace does not include a damper of any kind, nor does it draw very well. After dismantling the fire alarm, we managed to control the smoke by using the open door as a damper. The freezing wind rushed in, defeating the purpose of a fire, but it certainly looked cozy.

We allowed the fire to burn down to Smore-melting coals while watching "A Very Sunny Christmas" on the laptop. Laptops do not seem to have great sound volume, so we were forced to turn off the heater in order to hear the movie. That, in addition to the open door, made for a very chilly movie hour. And a word of warning here: Do not watch 'A Sunny Christmas' if you're looking for that Norman Rockwell kind of Christmas movie. This was Sunny Philadelphia at its sickest...and funniest.

Finally, the coals were glowing - time to create our supposed treats. Roy layered the necessary ingredients, then realized there was nowhere to place them over the fire. He managed to prop the foil package against the front of the fire grate. "I figure about five minutes and we'll be in Smore Heaven!" he exclaimed gleefully. I didn't vocalize my doubts. Or maybe I did.
In five minutes we unwrapped the eagerly awaited treat. It looked that same as before, maybe felt a bit warmer.
"It just needs to be closer to the fire," Roy assured me.
We raked some coals out and lay the foil-wrapped Smore-to-be on top. We waited. Soon a distinct smell emerged.
"I think something's burning," I said.
Roy quickly retrieved the foil and unwrapped his smoldering creation. By now, the bottom cracker had turned black, infusing the entire gustatory arrangement with the pungent taste of smoke. The chocolate had melted only slightly, and the marshmallows remained doughy little balls under the graham cracker roof. Roy ate it anyway. I tried a bite. It tasted like burnt chocolate on burnt cardboard with a whiff of smoky marshmallow.

"It still tastes good," he tried to convince me as he swallowed the last of it. Even Roy, as badly as he wanted to believe, couldn't pull it off. "OK, I think that was the wrong kind of chocolate. But tomorrow night..."
Ah, Roy! Ever hopeful Roy...

After a good night's sleep, we had a Pop-Tart breakfast and then headed out on our hike. We would start on the South end of the canyon, follow the Juniper Cliffside trail up, then head back down on the other side. I wanted to get a feel of the trails for possible mountain biking later. The forecast had been for extreme cold, so we didn't bring the bikes. Within a half mile of the beginning of the trail, I was peeling off clothing layers and mentally kicking myself. I've never seen more perfectly beautiful trails or weather for mountain biking! Hiking them was great, but riding them would have been even greater! Curses!!

The trail maintenance on these trails is awesome. In an area created by erosion, they have managed to build trails that blend in without washing away. We crossed numerous bridges, always in great repair. Roy hiked ahead, crossing a beautiful bridge with the canyon walls behind him. An immense clump of golden grass next to the bridge completed the picture. As I said, I lost my photos, but my photo looked something like this:

We hiked all of Juniper Cliffside, Rojo Grande, Sunflowers, and Juniper Riverside trails. We observed all kinds of wildlife tracks left behind in the trail after the last rain. Some of them looked pretty big. We had been warned of mountain lions by some guys in a passing truck earlier in the day. And everyone knows that some guys in a truck are experts on mountain lions. But here were these big tracks...

I decided to use my friend Kyle's logic. They're just unicorn tracks. Yes, unicorns and bunny rabbits!

By the time we returned to the cabin, we had walked about seven miles. Time for lunch! We drove up to the Trading Post which featured a sign out front, bragging of the World Famous Hamburgers. We were so hungry by then that even a cardboard cutout of a hamburger would have tasted great - if you threw a little salt on it. But truly, I think that even if I hadn't been starving, that was one great hamburger! The fries and coke weren't bad either. Did I mention the diet and exercise program we're starting when we return?

Next on our list was a hike out to the Lighthouse, a towering rock formation that can only be reached by a hiking (or biking!) trail. Once again, the trail work was impeccable. Well maintained, although I could see that in wet weather, this entire canyon would become a red clay nightmare. In two steps, your boots would become thick, red clay-encrusted, Herman Munster boots!

And let me tell you, I took some great photos of this spot. Legendary photos! You would have to see them to believe them. These were National Geographic good. But, alas, I can't prove it...
By the time we finished this adventure, we had hiked a total of about 13-14 miles. My feet were aching! Time to kick back and watch another great movie. This time it was Tropic Thunder, as hilarious as the first time I watched it.
And, of course, Roy still believed the great Smore gods would bless us. He built a fire outside in the grill this time.
"This way we won't have the smoke inside and we'll have a place to put the Smore," he explained logically. He had purchased two Hershey's chocolate bars to replace the baking chocolate from the previous night. After the movie, we tried to create the perfect Smore once again.
"But if this first one doesn't work, I'm not wasting a second, perfectly good candy bar on this experiment," I informed him righteously. Sacrificing good chocolate to a lost cause is not something I'm willing to do. It's immoral. And maybe illegal, I'm not sure.

I'll admit that the result was better this time. No burned taste, to be sure. But maybe I just don't get the whole Smores thing. Why would you waste perfectly good chocolate and marshmallows by squeezing them between two hard graham crackers? It defies the laws of nature. Everyone knows that the minute you bite into it, the chocolate and marshmallows (the best part) are going to squish out of the sides, leaving only two layers of messy, chocolate-tinted graham cracker behind.
I ate the other candy bar before it could be sacrificed.

This trip was short and sweet, but I will definitely be going back - preferable with the road and/or mountain bike. Or both! We stopped in Sherman again on the way back. This time for Johnny Carino's. Yum!

Oh yeah, did I mention that workout and diet we're starting when we get back?

Also, I’ll post those pictures when Roy sends them. After all, I know they exist. Just like unicorns and the perfect Smore!

UPDATE: They are real! Photos from Roy…

I found my photos!!! Yippee! I'm not a complete idiot!

Rappelling

2009-11-29T17:57:00.013-06:00

Today I finally took Slade and Cayman out to learn how to rappel - something I have been promising forever. A recent trip had reminded me how much fun it could be. Although Cayman is still too small to actually go over the edge, he could at least watch and get an idea of how to do it. It took me a while to find all my equipment since I hadn't used it for ages, but eventually we rounded up the needed supplies. I checked my rope and we set out.

The sky was overcast and everything was damp. The rocks would be a bit slippery, requiring extra care. We drove past the restaurant and the camping areas along the river. We parked near the river, close to the small, concrete dam. Just up the hill were several tall blocks of rock which would be perfect for Slade's first attempt. The tallest drop was about twelve feet - straight down. Perfect!

I coached Slade through the proper set up and safety checks for the equipment, helping him only when more strength was required, getting the rope threaded through the ATC belay device.

"Check your harness...both leg clips fastened..." I coached.
"Check," he chimed. He loves check-off lists.
"Harness loop fastened through the carabiner."
"Check."
"Rope and ATC through carabiner."
"Check."
"Carabiner locked."
"Check."
"Rope secure." We inspected the rope, tied with three knots to a nearby tree.
"Check."
I had him lean back and test the rope.
"Hand down to your hip to brake. Raise it up and out to drop." I let him practice a few times. Then, on a spot where I could help him over the edge, he leaned back and began his first descent. By the time he was on the side of the rock, lying back and letting the rope support him, he was breathing hard from sheer nervousness.

"All right," I told him. "Just sit there for a minute and look at me." He looked up at me, a bit of fear showing in his eyes.
"OK," I said. "Now just breathe. You're doing great!"
"I think I'm a little nervous," he told me shakily.
"That's good." I told him, "We never want to get so comfortable that we're not nervous. Just sit there. You could sit there all day if you had to." He began to calm down. Finally, I asked, "Are you good now?"
"I think so."

He began releasing the tension to lower himself down and eventually made his way down to solid ground. He looked up proudly with a big grin.
"Can I go again?"

The next time was a bit faster, and with more confidence.

Soon he was an old pro. "Wait there and I'll get your picture from below!" I told him. He waited while I climbed down.

By now the sky was getting dark. A storm was moving in quickly.
"One more time and then we'll need to go," I told him.

After reaching the ground the last time, raindrops began to sprinkle down. Cayman had been eying the nearby river the entire time we had been here.

"I want to go 'wim in that water ," he told me over and over. I assured him numerous times that the water was too cold. He assured me numerous times that it was not. But suddenly, with the icy rain falling, he decided that his fondest wish was to stay completely dry. He hunched his shoulders up and began to cry loudly. The bottom dropped out of the sky and the rain began to pour down.

I jammed everything but the rope back into the backpack and handed it off to Slade.
"Just take this and get to the car!" I yelled out. It was amazing how loud rain could be!
Meanwhile, Cayman was crying louder and louder, "I'm wet! I'm wet!"
I had wrapped a towel around the tree to prevent the rope from causing undue damage. I threw the towel over Cayman's head and began coiling the rope up on my arm. I hefted the coiled rope onto one shoulder, scooped a wailing Cayman up on the other side, and began running and sliding down the hill. I passed Slade up along the way. I don't know if I was that fast - or he was that slow.

As I crossed the road, the hail started. Tiny chunks of ice bounced off the pavement and my skin. I threw open the car door, shoved Cayman and the rope inside, and went back for Slade. I needn't have worried. He was examining the roadway. He looked up and exclaimed happily, "It's hail!"
"I know!" I grabbed the backpack and shoved him toward the car.

By the time we were safe inside, we were absolutely drenched. And cold!

But not necessarily unhappy....

All in all, a very nice day!!

It’s Always Sunny…

2009-11-27T13:53:00.001-06:00

The D.E.N.N.I.S. System.

Up side: it’s freakin’ hilarious!

Down side: I’ve actually known some people low enough to use it!

Womble Trail

2009-11-27T09:22:00.002-06:00

This weekend was the long-awaited ride at the Womble Trail with Roy, Scott, and John. Scott had rented a cabin near the Ouachita River near Oden, Arkansas. Roy and I arrived at the cabin a little late, mostly because we were talking and not paying attention to the road. Go figure…Highways 8 and 88 are completely different roads! So we took the longer, more scenic way around. We would later find out that Scott and John did exactly the same thing.

We did finally arrive to find John and Scott had made themselves at home. The River Bend Sunflowers Cabin sleeps four and is very ‘cozy’, as the brochure implied. Overall, the cabin was all right, but it did have a few quirks. Most noticeable was the water. It smelled like it came directly from a sewer. I wondered if there was a wrong connection in the pipes somehow. I could imagine an Arkansas plumber, laughing in butt off somewhere, muttering, “stupid tourists!”. We used bottled water for drinking and eating, but showering was not pleasant and didn’t really seem to accomplish anything.

Also, the freezer sometimes made an ungodly noise. And the ceiling fan in the bedroom could not be used due to frightening instability. But the most important thing of all was in excellent working condition….THE HOT TUB!! And it didn’t smell like sewer! Bonus!

Scott soon had his famous Lasagna baking in the oven – after a few false starts, due to inadequate oven labeling and a general misunderstanding of what it means when the red light is on. But the end result was outstanding. Excellent Lasagna. No complaints here!

Saturday morning, we were ready to ride. And I thank Scott for not insisting on riding at the butt-crack of dawn. Roy had decided that due to his lack of bicycle training lately, he would rather hike, take photos, and ride elsewhere. Scott had broken his derailleur hanger on a short ride after his arrival the previous day, so he had rigged his bike to be a single-speed. It was worth a try.

Riders of the day: John, Scott, and me.

We began near Story at the northern end of the trail. John and I had climbed a torturous switchback section…ok, we had actually walked it, pushing our bikes up the mountain…when we heard Scott call out from below.

“I’m down!”

We thought he had crashed, and I imagined the worst. We pushed our bikes back down the mountain to find that, instead, his chain had snapped. Evidently, the single speed idea was not going to work.

We packed everything up and drove toward Hot Springs. Internet and cell phone service in this area is sporadic at best. I was able to get Shaina on the phone and she looked up the phone number of a Hot Springs bike shop. After calling to get directions, we arrived at the bike shop to find it extremely busy. Evidently, there was to be a hill climb race later in the day. Every anal road cyclist from miles around was there. I wish we could have stayed to watch, but there are just not enough hours in the day.

Unfortunately, the shop was unable to repair Scott’s bike. We ushered him out the door before he could buy a whole new replacement bike and headed back toward the cabin. That’s when I had a brainstorm. Roy wasn’t really using his bike, so I called him up. He was gracious enough to lend his bike out to Scott for the weekend. Problem solved. We headed back to the cabin to pick up the bike. Roy saved the weekend!!

My camera setting wasn’t optimum, so a lot of these photos came out blurry. But blurry or not, you can see why Scott is hard on bikes! (Don’t look, Roy!)

This time we began at Hwy 270 and rode to Forest Road 92. This trail is soooo nice. One tough climb was Mauldin Mountain. Scott renamed it “Maudlin Mountain”. According to Webster, maudlin means ‘tearfully or weakly emotional’. An apt name since I did feel tearful, weak, and emotional by the time I reached the top. I had to stop once to make the wicked switchback near the top and I briefly wondered if I could get going again. I finally crested the top, heart beating madly, and stopped to rest. Jeez. That was a tough one. Other than that, though, this section was pretty mild if you took your time about it.

After the ride, we made our way back to the cabin at River Bend. We made mental notes about some of these roads here, where you could get a nice ride on the road bikes in warmer weather.

And, of course, the highlight of the trip…sitting in the hot tub, watching the sun go down, while you slowly turn from a sweet little plum to a withered old prune! Sort of like life, huh? Priceless!!

I dragged myself out of the hot tub, finally, and entered the cabin to find things had gone terribly awry. Roy was engrossed in his new Kindle.

And John and Scott were watching every football game being broadcast on every channel.

But to give John credit, he cooked some smoked meats that were to die for. And some couscous. Life was good. I think I ate 10 lbs of meat. Yummm.

On Sunday morning, we packed up, checked out of the cabin, then headed down to North Fork Lake. We would ride up to Forest Road 92, and then back down to the lake again. Roy took our photo at the sign before we headed out. He somehow managed to signify his disdain of taking ‘people pictures’ as seen below. Isn’t that a middle finger??

Roy planned to run this section of trail while we rode it. So we said goodbye and headed out. However, we got off to a rocky start with a difficult creek crossing, so Roy actually had to wait for us to clear out of the way at the beginning.

But eventually we left him behind and climbed gradually up toward FS Road 92. We crossed several smaller roads along the way with no traffic to be seen. We reached 92, stopped to rest for a bit, then turned our wheels back down the trail. And let me tell you, if you could only ride one section on the Womble Trail, it should be from Forest Road 92 down to North Fork Lake!

As we came back down a tricky section, perched along a hillside, we encountered another group climbing up. The usual pleasantries were exchanged as we stood aside to let them pass.

The last to come by was the lone woman in the group. I watched her as she rode toward me, and I spoke first.

“Hey, how’s it going?” I asked pleasantly.

“Great, how about you?” she answered.

“Um, pretty good, I guess.” I tried not to stare. But I probably did. I couldn’t help it. The calm words spoken were completely at odds with the terrified expression on her face. I’m not talking ‘anxious’ here, I mean roller-coaster terror!! I wish I had grabbed my camera. You could superimpose her face on a photo of a person riding the Texas Giant and it would look absolutely natural, eyebrows up, eyeballed bugged out, nose flared and teeth bared.

I had forgotten about it by the time we stopped to regroup. But when Scott appeared, the first thing he said was, “Man, did you see the expression on that woman’s face?!”

Yeah, I think we’ve all had that expression before. But mine is usually reserved for the downhill sections or creek crossings.

We arrived back at the lake to find Roy in the pickup, hiding from the flies and gnats. We all said our goodbyes and headed for home. Another great trip behind us.

For anyone looking for a great mountain bike ride, or a great hike, the Womble Trail is not one to be missed. I know I’ll go back for sure!

And last, but not least, my favorite photo of the trip…

MAN, WHAT A RIDE!!!

Fall Festivus

2009-10-12T00:24:00.007-05:00

My friend, Kin, recently stopped by to visit on his way through this area. As I walked out to greet his arrival, I found this on my carport! You know how I love to find surprises on my doorstep!

I immediately popped it open and tasted....yum! Home-made SALSA!! Kin tried to point out the danger of eating anonymous food left on your doorstep, but do I ever listen to reason?
Heck No!!
Actually it was great. Now I just have to buy some chips to go with it! I eventually found out that it came from a Salsa Fairy named Jesse! Thanks!

Since Kin doesn't make it to the city of Idabel often, I gave him the royal treatment by forcing him to attend Fall Fest with me and the youngest, Cayman.

FallFest in Idabel is great, but there are some things I just don't want to know...and no, I didn't ask...
Cayman couldn't wait to get into the "jumping thing"....

While I couldn't wait to kick the children out of the way and take my photo with my hero, SpongeBob!!

And, of course, in McCurtain County, no event is complete without the opportunity to win a firearm of some kind.
And then it was on to the face painting at Roy's Pine Telephone booth.
Brandon did a great job on Cayman...

Then Cayman hitched a ride back to the car and home to Mama!!!

I enjoyed Kin's visit and appreciated his company for the ride to McKinney and back! Thanks Kin!

On another note, I seem to have actually found a riding buddy here in Idabel. WHAT?? Yes, you heard me. I met Rickey while I was out with Cayman and Slade on the bikes. Since then we've gone on a couple of rides. It's nice to have someone to help give that motivation to get out there and ride. With the weather in the 50's today, I probably would have stayed in hibernation on the couch. But together, we braved the gray, cold day and rode the Holly Creek Loop together. This is Rickey, trying to figure out how to post a photo to FaceBook on a rest break.

And you know how I love those hay bales....
We both thought this was a hoot! It's a Hummer, parked in front of a run-down shack. Talk about priorities.... LOL!

Rickey went to the bike shop in Texarkana for a pump adapter and came back with these....a new helmet and a new mountain bike!! Awesome. I guess I better get my flat fixed.

Muzzle Joe Wilson Campaign

2009-09-15T03:39:00.002-05:00

If we raised $1 million, could we remove Joe Wilson's "play" button and replace it with a "stop" button?

Seiously?

2009-09-09T08:06:00.008-05:00

Sometimes it’s hard to be an Oklahoman. Not surprisingly, I learned that Obama’s speech to schoolchildren would not be shown here. A Call The Editor question in our sensationalist McCurtain Gazette was my first clue. It went something like this:

Is it true that in Obama’s speech to the schoolchildren he will make them swear to serve and obey Barrack Obama?

Seriously? You asked this question?

Seriously? Our newspaper printed it?

On the day of the speech, I called the Slademan’s school to find out if they were going to show it. Of course, they were not. The principal was “out of her office” and unavailable for questioning.

So I called Slade that afternoon to inquire about the speech, thinking that perhaps they had at least mentioned it.

“Did you see Obama’s speech today?” I asked him. I learned that he knew nothing about it. So I told him that he was coming to my house to watch it. I sat him in front of the computer and pulled up the website. The first thing he noticed was the length.

“Twenty minutes!” he exclaimed in dismay. “That’s a long speech!”

I looked down at him with loving grandmother eyes. “Shut up and watch.” I ordered. Oh yes, I try to make happy grandmother memories whenever I can.

I loved this speech. If you haven’t seen it, you should. And I think all schoolchildren should watch it.

Slade does well in school. But it's not enough to do well. I want him to understand the long-term goal of his education. I don’t want him to be like me, terrified at high school graduation because I had no idea what to do next, with nobody to advise or counsel me. I finally graduated college at age 47, when I should have done it twenty years earlier.

Religion and Politics are two things that evoke a huge emotional response in people. I’m a firm believer in separation of church and state. I don’t want the schools teaching our children about religion. And while many people bemoan the fact that God is not allowed in schools anymore, what they actually mean is that their god is not allowed in the school. They might sing a different tune if little Johnny came home one day and stated happily, “We learned how to pray today! Five times a day, we bow down and praise Allah!” or “We need to knock on people’s doors and tell them all about Jehovah!” Yeah, I could see problems with that scenario.

And in regard to politics, I can understand that some people might not appreciate having Democratic or Republican views pushed upon their captive children. But a speech from the President about working hard and staying in school? I just don’t see a problem with that.

I think everyone knows what I think of our last President, but I also believe that we should maintain a certain amount of respect and teach our children to do the same. If this speech had been given by President Bush, would I insist that Slade refuse to watch? No. If I disagreed with something he said, then I should share my thoughts about it with him. We need to teach our children how to listen and communicate effectively. If they can't make decisions on their own, how can we expect them to succeed? We won’t always be there to shield them from all potentially harmful input and influences.

Why not allow them to listen to opinions and speeches, and then discuss it? What do you agree with? What do you disagree with? Why? Teach them to not believe every word they hear from every source. They have the information at their fingertips, the ability to go directly to the source of almost any issue and see the truth for themselves. They can read actual proposed legislation online. They don’t have to get their information from people like Glenn Beck and Rush Limbaugh.

Don’t get me wrong. If you like Glenn Beck or Rush Limbaugh, I don't have a problem with that. But go look at the facts for yourself. If something sounds unbelievably outrageous, like senior citizen death panels, then go to the source and see the truth for yourself. Don’t base your beliefs purely on blind emotional outrage, fueled by hatemongers.

Form your own opinion.

Mmm Mmmm Good

2009-09-08T21:29:00.002-05:00

Now that's what I call a cinnamon roll! Ken brought this back from San Antonio. Now all I need is a gallon of coffee!

Hotter than Hell Hundred

2009-09-04T11:18:00.016-05:00

HHH 2009 was another great year. This ride just keeps getting better and better! Or maybe I just feel lucky after finding the answer to the hip/back pain that has been plaguing me for several years now. The problem? Lower Cross Syndrome. I tend to overwork myself and don't stretch enough. The answer? Active Release Technique. It is divine. I highly recommend it to anyone who is experiencing muscle problems.

I had been cleared to ride the 25 - 50 mile ride. Since I've learned my lesson about overdoing it, I decided to go for the 62 mile. OK, maybe I haven't learned my lesson by heart, but I'm working on it. At least I would be riding slowly!

I was driving Roy's truck since my car had been acting up lately. He thought I was putting my bike in the back, but I had sneaked it into the cab. Nobody puts baby in the corner! : )

I arrived in Wichita Falls in the afternoon and made my way around the Bike Expo. They have everything bicycle there - clothes, equipment, food, bikes. It is heaven! I was soon joined by Kin. For our spaghettie dinner, we shared a table with this guy. I thought his hair was great...

But the honeymoon was soon over...OK, maybe not. He was still cute - even without the hair!

Ice skating in Hell?

After dinner, we decided to go for a spin on the ice. Kin had a lot more experience at this than I did. I can't believe I didn't fall and break a hip....especially after Kin and I attempted our "secret handshake" on ice!

I passed by a group of several guys who were laughingly watching me inch by. They offered to take my photo since it was obvious I couldn't skate and self-portrait at the same time.
"OK, but don't push the button until I look graceful!" I ordered.

Obviously, they do not follow directions well....

I think this is my newest all-time favorite photo of Kin...

He was always skating too close for comfort...

These were the wonderful ladies minding the skates. They went above and beyond the call of duty for us. I had to return to my truck for some socks. As I reentered the building, I met one of the ladies at the door. She had come out to make sure they would let me back in. How nice is that? They minded all my stuff while I skated and one of them even came out to the rink to shout encouragement as I inched by. These are the kind of people that make the HHH such a great event!

After skating, we walked over to the registration room where I signed up and paid my money. Once in the hallway again, I saw a sign I couldn't resist.....MASSAGE! The volunteer ladies at the door gave me the price...$1 a minute. I dug around in my pocket and came up with $10. All right! 10 minutes was better than nothing. But I wanted my money's worth.

I gazed out among the tables, looking for someone with a little muscle. Across the room, a girl was massaging a customer, if you could call it that. She had her hands planted firmly on his shoulders and was gently rocking him back and forth.

"OK. I don't want her," I told the ladies at the door. "I want someone with some anger management issues. Maybe a nasty divorce in progress...something to work up some anger!"
The ladies were laughing, not sure how to take me, when Ron walked up and offered his services with a smile. I pulled up his T-Shirt sleeve and inspected his biceps.
"OK. You'll do," I told him.
He laughed, whisked me over to the table, and told me of his evil plan.
"I'm going to do Thai massage on you," he told me. "You look like you need it."
I didn't ask for clarification on that remark. Some things are best left to the unknown.

It wasn't long before I decided that I really liked Thai massage. Pressure points...ahh! Soon I was a happy, happy, camper indeed. And the more I liked it, the more he began to show off his moves...and he had some, let me tell you! At one point, we were intertwined like pretzels when he said jokingly, "I should be paying you for this!"

By now, I was moaning phrases like, "Ah, that's a great move!"
He countered with "I'm going to give you 10 extra minutes. We have the time and you need it."
Wow. I was up to a 20 minute massage.

About that time, one of the ladies appeared to tell me that someone had paid for another 10 minutes. Cool. It was my friend Scott, who had just arrived from Stillwater.
"See? You volunteer your services and immediately the money appears. Now that is Karma."
"I'm still giving you the extra 10 minutes," he said. "So now you're up to 30 minutes."
I was liking this!

By now, we had an adience. The massage lady next to us was watching and smiling along with the Chiropractor who said, "I'm giving her an adjustment when you're through with her!"
Life was getting better by the moment!

"Come back tomorrow after your ride and I'll loosen you up again," he told me. "I'm riding the 100k, but I'll be back here in the afternoon."
I promised I would as I staggered away. The Chiropractor now had people lined up, so I didn't get my free adjustment. Oh, but I don't know how I could have felt any better!

Smoke 'em if you got 'em!

We wandered over to the Expo and located Tom and Scott. It was great to see them again. We would be staying in a private residence this year. $20 each for a bed and a shower. Not bad. I have camped at the HHH when it was too hot to sleep. This year was cooler than average, but I was still thankful to have a bed. Our hostess was great and obviously very religious. Every level surface sported an open Bible. Every vertical surface sported a cross or a framed religious quote.

I had a good laugh later when Scott told me his story. He had brought an ice chest along, thinking he would have a few cold ones when we arrived at our overnight destination.
"I was three steps in the door and had already spotted four Bibles," he told me sadly. There would be no pre-ride brews for MNScott on this trip.

We inspected several toys at the Expo...

...hit the Clif Bar Buffet....

And even had time for a little rump-slapping....

The next morning, after some wicked pickup bed stretches....

we lined up with 14,000 other cyclists...

I love the start of the HHH. Nobody does it better! They always have someone sing the Star Spangled Banner. Then we have the flyover...

And there's a cannon firing in there somewhere....

The people really make this a great ride. All along the route, people camp out in their yards all day, watching the cyclists go by, spraying water, and offering encouragement...

There are many interesting riders....

Since I wasn't doing the full 100, Scott and I parted way about 20 miles into the ride. I had never done the 62 mile, although Rob and I had done an alternate route one year when Hell's Gate closed early. I was disappointed to not be doing the full ride, but my spirits soon lifted when we entered the Air Force base. These guys gave me an idea of what was to come when one of them yelled out, referring to my new pink jersey, "PINK! Man, I LOVE pink!"

Well, well, I thought, as I whipped out my trusty camera. That lifts a girl's spirits. But what was that hum, that vibration in the air? It seemed to be getting stronger and stronger, pulling me forward like a magnet . After I had passed several groups of runners, each with their own commentary, I rounded a corner to find the source of the palpable tension in the air. TESTOSTERONE! Lined up on both sides of the street for two city blocks!!

AWESOME! I sat up, hands free, and whipped my camera out of my bra. The crowd went wild, cheering and clapping, yelling "PINK!"

Oh yeah! I could grow to love this route. Will I ever be able to make the 100 mile turn when I know the Air Force guys are over there on the 62 mile route?? It will be interesting.

I continued in, deciding that I needed to do some serious biking for a change. Enough of this poking along, basking in male adoration. Time to kick some ass. Yeah, these boys didn't know what hit them when I blew by. Aren't they cute??

I loved the new finish line, too.

And the greatest thing about being outnumbered by men on this ride? The women's showers look like this. I had it all to myself!!!

Ron had not returned for his massage sessions yet, so I bought myself a well-deserved margarita, then lay out on my blanket in the shade. I did some stretching and almost dozed off a time or two. Finally, I received a text from Kin that he had made it in. I stashed my blanket and pillow in the truck just as I received another text from Kin, telling me where he was so we could meet. I was texting back with one hand and closing the truck door with the other when I saw them. My keys were lying on my pillow - inside the truck! My eyes were glued on the keys as the door closed in slow motion. Bam!

OK, I thought, that only took one second to go from good day to bad day. But no, I was not going to let this ruin my day. I walked up to meet Kin and went inside to borrow a phone book. I began dialing every locksmith listed with the same result - no answer. Crap! Finally, someone picked up. Larry the Locksmith told me he was out of town, but would be back in about an hour.

"It's too crowded with those bicycles everywhere," he told me. "I take this day off every year. You can't get anywhere in town on a day like today. So where are you?"

I hated to tell him that I was at the epicenter, the very source from which crazed bicyclists spring forth every year. But fortunately, I can create quite a needy whine when I need to. He agreed to come to the Arena, despite his dislike of cyclists and crowds.

"Just call me when you get here and I'll come running out," I assured him.
"OK," he agreed doubtfully.

While waiting, Kin and I walked over to watch the cyclists come in. We were joined by
Tom and his friend Aaron (?). They had both raced earilier in the day and had done well, completing the 62 mile ride in about 2 1/2 hours or so. Very impressive.

The finish line was a fun hangout, watching the antics of the riders coming in and the crowd's reaction. Soon I forgot all about Larry the Locksmith...until I looked at my phone. 6 missed calls!!! It was so loud at the finish line I guess I didn't hear it ring. I hit the redial as I took off, power walking, toward the parking lot.

"Larry?? I guess I didn't hear the phone! I'm sorry! Where are you?"
Larry the Locksmith was not happy.
"Well, I called your number about six times and didn't get an answer," he said irritably. "So I'm on my way back home."
It took every bit of charm, and a great deal of pathetic whining to lure him back. But, amazingly, he agreed to come. He is SO going to charge me a fortune, I thought.

Soon I saw him cruising through the parking lot. I flagged him down, giving him my best I'm-an-idiot smile.
"Get in," he ordered testily.
I obeyed and we cruised over to the vehicle. On the way, a cyclist passed us on the right just as we were about to make a right hand turn.
"See? That's what I'm talking about," he lectured sternly. "He was in the wrong, but if I'd a hit him, I would have been blamed." This was followed by a short tirade about cyclists who defy the traffic laws.

This brought forth a gushing you're-absolutely-right-no-matter-what-because-I'm-locked-out-of-my-car chorus of agreement from me. It took him all of 3 seconds to unlock the vehicle.

In the meantime, I was fascinated with his van. He gave me a brief tour. This reminder note to himself is taped to his steering wheel because "I tend to speak first and think later"...

And this is his reminder to others....

He was quite the entertaining character once you thawed him out a bit. Kin arrived shortly. Larry the Locksmith stayed and chatted for awhile, despite the cyclists and the crowds. The whole ordeal cost me $35, a bargain considering the bad start we had. Eventually he drove away while Kin shook his head in amazement.
"I can't believe you two were best friends by the time I got here," he laughed.

Soon Tom arrived. He was ready to head back and was now waiting for Scott. I had enjoyed my Air Force experience thoroughly, but Scott's route included The Unofficial Red Neck Beer Stop at mile 98. This is a rest stop, operating solo without official authorization, run by some local rednecks. They offer free beer and food for all cyclists brave enough to stop - and they throw quite the bash, I've heard. no self-respecting beer drinker can resist the siren's song of the Redneck Beer Stop. If non-drinker Kin couldn't pass it by, then Scott never stood a chance - he'll do almost anything for a good beer. And judging from this photo...he may have. I know I'm not going to ask any questions!

Soon, after a phone call from a stern daddy-Tom, Scott agreed to break free and finish the ride. Tom had to get back so, after a quick good-bye photo, they headed out.

As for me and Kin, we headed over to the Texas Roadhouse for a well deserved meal. Life is good. A great way to finish a great ride. I can't wait 'til next year!!

Delight-ful!

2009-09-02T22:43:00.003-05:00

I recently bought this bottle of wine. It was made by a friend of Delight's in OKC. How cool is that?
I can't even imagine an event so special that I would pop the cork on this one. Any ideas?? It would have to be a super special occasion.

Go Nuno!

2009-08-22T15:54:00.004-05:00

This is a photo of my friend, Nuno, climbing in the Picos de Europa ("Peaks of Europe") in Spain. Way to go, Nuno!! I am sooooo jealous! Someday I am so going to make you teach me to do that!!

New World Perspective

2009-08-22T09:00:00.002-05:00

I recently took the Slademan and Cayman on a trip to Robber's Cave State Park. The drive up is several hours long with little scenery....excruciating for an 8-year-old. So we filled in some time by playing Alphabet I Spy.

Beginning with the letter "A", we raced to call out something we say beginning with that letter. We had worked our way up the alphabet... to the letter 'P'.

I searched desperately for something beginning with 'P'. I could find nothing.

Suddenly Slade had it.
"PENIS!" he shouted triumphantly.
"Penis?" I asked. "I don't exactly 'see' any penises."
"Well, they're everywhere," he explained, pointing to Cayman and himself. "They're all around you!"

OK, like it or not, I now have a new perspective of the world...

Neighborhood Safety Promises

2009-07-15T07:42:00.005-05:00

I have new neighbors down the street. I discovered this when Slade was riding his bike recently and came back telling me about a new kid named William who had just moved in.

"Can I go to William's house to play?" he asked.
How do you explain to a child that mother's (or grandmothers) can't just allow their children to go into people's homes when they don't know them. I tried to explain it to him, but he doesn't really get it.
"Well, can he come down here?" he asked.
"You can try, but I doubt if his mother will let him before I meet her." I said.

Soon he was back on the road and I could see him outside in the front yard, talking to William and his mother. Since we were heading up to the lake, I just loaded up and drove down to pick him up.

William's mother was laughing as she related her conversation with Slade:

Slade: "Can William come to my house and play?"
William's Mother: "No, because I don't really know your family. I have to be sure that it is safe."
Slade: (Searched his mind for an 8-year-old's example of ultimate safety. And in a flash, he had it!) He held his hands out, palms up, to explain...."But it's perfectly safe at Tammy's house," he offered, "...because she only has butter knives!"

Case Closed.

The Calanques

2009-05-22T14:04:00.010-05:00

Notre Dame de la Garde

Deanna and I decided to walk up to the Notre Dame de la Garde one evening.It sits on the highest point above Marseille and requires quite a walk to reach it. We trudged up narrow, winding streets and then up a long, steep path to the top. We had somehow arrived on the wrong side of a locked gate, but could see our fellow tourists still walking about on the other side, so we found a way to drop over the wall and skirt along the base of the structure until we gained access.

Unfortunately, we had arrived just in time for the closing. We were chased out by a no-nonsense guard who then, as if to punctuate our dismissal, proceeded to raise the drawbridge. I guess he means business! But the view alone was worth the climb.
We topped off this excursion with more pizza. Yum!

The Calanques

Today I decided to get out of the city and go hiking. A highly recommended hike was among the white cliffs bordering the sea. The one I chose was described as the most difficult but, as Deanna pointed out, that term is relative. Sure enough, the hike was not nearly as daunting as described.

Of course, I had to get my free breakfastat the hotel first. I sat at a small table overlooking the port while I ate more of those wonderful eggs along with more cheese, fruits, and breads. I think my favorite breakfast item was the chocolate croissants, small and flaky, with a ribbon of dark chocolate running through. If I could write poetry, the chocolate croissant would inspire many poems…“Odes to the Chocolate Croissant”. The coffee was thick and dark. I had to smile when I thought about how much my friend Althe, would love this coffee!

My first hike of the morning would be to purchase a bus pass. Getting around in a city is something I am unaccustomed to doing, let alone a foreign city. I walked along the harbor toward the Metro station. A street performer was playing Beethoven next to the subway entrance. OK, that song would now be in my head the rest of the day. Also, this father and son duo were so cute, but are there child labor laws here, I wondered? I felt sorry for the kid, but maybe he enjoyed this. I hope so.There were also some transplanted Okies...OK, maybe not.
I walked down the stairs to the subway station, my sore legs eliciting silent groans with each step. No more running for me. I couldn’t afford to be sore when got on the mountain bikes in a few days. With the assistance of a friendly lady, was able to purchase a three-day pass from the machine there. Then it was back to street level to wait for my very first bus ride. Exciting!!

I followed everyone else’s lead when I boarded the bus, slipping my ticket into a slot which then spit it back out at me. I found a seat and watched the port disappear behind me. We passed the small overlook where some young boys hung out, seemingly ready to jump into the sea far below, to the fascination and dismay of passing tourists. I had never determined if they ever really jumped or only pretended, even after stopping to chat with them one day. They were very friendly, though, with quick smiles and dark, laughing eyes. I hoped none of the ever came to harm there.

We passed the volleyball courts and continued beyond the furthest point previously ventured by me. People constantly boarded the bus and exited, and I witnessed lots of cheek-kissing. Lots of touchy-feely stuff here, things that would mark you as an instant outsider (and perhaps even a pervert) at home.

My thoughts were interrupted by the bus driver’s voice. Suddenly, everyone seemed concerned and moved toward the front of the bus to hear what he was telling them. I didn’t bother since I couldn't understand him anyway, but I watched in dismay as everyone suddenly exited the bus, leaving only me and the driver on board. Now I could see that the road ahead was blocked by police and they were redirecting everyone to a side street there. When the bus began to turn around, I decided that I needed off too. I didn’t know what I was doing, but I knew I didn’t want to go back.

I walked out to one of the policemen blocking the way. Fortunately, he spoke very good English and directed me to another bus just a short way beyond him on the closed road. He explained that an accident (big surprise, right?) had blocked the road and that it would be best for me to get on that bus and wait for the road to reopen.

This bus was also deserted by all the occupants, so once again it was just me and the bus driver. To my surprise, the road opened almost immediately and we were on our way. Plus, I had the bus all to myself until the next stop.

I exited at my stop to wait for my next connection, the #19 bus. There was another bus stop across the street and I wasn’t sure on which side I should be waiting. I pulled out my guidebook and found the name of my next stop, Goudes. I then picked out a friendly-looking woman and approached her.

“Excusez moi,” I said, pointing to the name in my book, “Which stop for Goudes?” I pointed each side of the street. I do not pretend to be able to speak French at all, but I have found that if I approach people and at least make an attempt at butchering the language, they are much more amenable. Sure enough, she laughed and pointed to the other side of the street.
“Merci,” I thanked her and began making my way to the crosswalk.
“Madame!” she called out behind me, “Eet ees bus…uh …one….nine!”
“Merci, merci beaucoup!” I made my exit before any cheek-kissing could ensue.

Someone had once told me that France was the rudest place they had ever visited. I was finding this to be untrue. Everywhere I went, I found friendly people who, for the price of a smile and an Okie-accented 'bon jour', were always willing to help. Just the day before, I was accompanied down the street along the beach by three children, ranging in ages from 9-12. The oldest boy had broken his sandal and was walking barefoot. They thought this was so funny that they called my attention to it.
“Madamoiselle!” they laughed and pointed to his feet, as if embarrassed to be seen walking barefoot. I had to laugh, they were so cute. We walked several blocks together, attempting to communicate in broken English and French. The oldest boy attempted to teach me the rental bike etiquette when I inquired about them.
“Bicycles. They cost?“ I asked, “How much money?“ I was getting good at this broken English way of speaking, reducing sentences to the bare minimum. Even the voice inside my head now spoke broken English with a French accent.

He searched his mind for the right word to use and his face lit up when he found it.
“Card!” he said excitedly, pointing to a slot on the bicycle mount. “Card!”
“Ah! Oui! Merci,” I thanked him profusely. Evidently you needed some kind of card. I would later discover that it took a credit card with a certain kind of chip in it....one that my card did not have. RATS!
We had reached my hotel and I waved goodbye.
“Au revoir, Madamoiselle,” they called.

And now, here I was, standing on a busy street awaiting my next bus. More people-watching, for sure. I have discovered that some things are universal: a baby’s cry, a child’s laughter, and obnoxious teenagers.

The latter was observed when a loud, raucous group of teenage boys passed by a nearby street vendor’s cart. When he turned his back briefly, one of the boys swiped a lemon from the stand while the others laughed. Oh yes, same old teenagers.

The #19 bus arrived and I boarded, only to find myself pressed against the worst-smelling man I’ve ever encountered. His dog sat at our feet and I envied the dog his position, below the foul odor which seemed to hang in the air like a moist cloud at nose level. Thankfully, he exited at the next stop and I heard many sighs of relief behind me.

I once sat across from this man and I had to switch to silent mode in order to get his picture without him knowing. He was very serious. I knew it was some sort of holiday and the buses were not running as often as usual. I would later learn that it was Ascension Day. He was dressed for it and he meant business! His expression never changed the entire time he sat across from me, even while being bombarded with my brightest smile! : )Then I sat next to a young girl and her mother. I could sense the young girl studying me intently. Suddenly she turned to her mother and asked a question, pointing to me. Her mother looked puzzled and shrugged. The girl then asked me a French question, pointing to the tube and bite valve of my CamelBak which I had filled with water that morning.

“Oh!” I explained, “That is to drink. Water.” I demonstrated by taking a drink. She thought that was pretty cool.

There were fewer and fewer people on the bus now as we neared the Goudes stop. The driver pulled into a lonely parking lot and deposited me and the other few remaining passengers onto the baking pavement, turned around, and sped back toward Marseille. It seemed like a dead calm after all the hustle and bustle of the ride out.

I pulled out my book, moved over to the shade of a nearby red-tiled building, and began to read. I knew that my last bus, the #20, only ran once an hour and I had twenty minutes to wait. Before long, though, the bus appeared. This time, however, the bus was just a van. The ride to my final destination, Callelongue, was short one. From this tiny village, I would begin my cliff hike along the shore.

Once I began my hike, I berated myself for not doing this sooner and for wasting so many days in a city when I could have been out here! The trail meandered along the coast, high above the sea, with absolutely breathtaking scenery. It ran through a tunnel of gnarled, stunted pine trees, their strong branches worn smooth by the repeated touch of hands, and along open cliffs that fell straight down to the sea below. The rocky trail, in places, was worn slick and glossy by the feet of many eager hikers, like myself. Sometimes, the rock actually squeaked under my shoes, like a tile floor. I would spend my remaining days here...no more city for me!The trail was very well maintained and with very few scary spots. You wouldn’t know this by the poor man who was just ahead of me on the beginning of the trail. He obviously had a more-than-healthy fear of heights judging by the way he hugged the inside wall, arms and legs splayed, belly rubbing against the warm rock. His nervousness was almost contagious and I was happy to pass him.

I kept my eyes open for a small spot that I could have all to myself. I spied a small beach far below and was almost ready to leave the trail and head down when I saw that it was already occupied. A man walked out and stood next to the water - naked! Not just nude, but neckid. Geez, I thought priggishly as I jotted down notes in my little black journal, some people have no manners whatsoever! And French men were bad enough- with all their clothes on. I guess that’s one way to keep a beach all to yourself.
I continued on, past the crowed calonque beach, and found the place I was looking for. It wasn’t a beach, but rather a tiny, enclosed rocky shelf, guarded by rock walls on three sides and open to the sea on the fourth. It was not able to be viewed from the trail, and had a big enough area to lay out in the sun or lounge in the shade of the rock overhang. There was also a pool of trapped seawater, about the size of three bathtubs just below the shelf. This was especially nice since I quickly determined that the seawater was too cold for me! I’m a real wimp when it comes to cold water. I thought about jumping in, just for a photo to send to Teressa, but I couldn’t make myself do it. The best I could do was stand nearby for a photo.I made myself at home, unpacking my yoga mat (which would serve as a blanket in a pinch), and all my paraphernalia for a long stay. My apple, orange, and bread for lunch. I stripped down to my underwear (which serves as a swimsuit in a pinch) and lay down on my towel. Ahh - this was the life. No bustling streets, no buzzing motorcycles, or crying babies, no grumpy old men. Just me, the warm sun, the cool water, and a soft, constant, tepid breeze. I thought about all of the beautiful creations of man that I had seen already, the churches and forts, but I still prefer the constructs of nature versus that of man.

I lay there, baking in the mild sun, when a thought occurred to me. I had this place all to myself….so…..off came the top. OK, so, it hadn’t taken long for my psyche to go over to the dark side. If someone did happen to find this spot and look over from the top, this would keep them away, for sure!

Maybe somewhere, a small paragraph would be written about me in someone’s little black journal.
“Ooh, she’s naked!” someone would write priggishly, and then proceed to jot everything down in their little black journal and go on their way. But I wasn’t naked. I was topless, to be sure, and had rolled and tucked my underwear until it attained thong status, but my clothing remained in reach at all times. So there!

Now that I was here, I wanted to get as much sun as possible without burning. I also wanted to try to lessen the reverse racoon-eye look I had going from so many runs and rides outdoors with my sunglasses on. I could hear my friend Tonya’s sage advice as I lay there, baking. “Tanned fat always looks better than white fat,” she would advise me knowingly. I am learning that she is correct.

I had also thought about her on the bus ride over, when I struck up a conversation with a man about my destination.
“The Calanques?” he asked, slightly worried, “It is a hard hike. You must have appropriate shoes.” He stepped back slightly to inspect my wide, sturdy shoes that would have caused Tonya to roll her eyes in dismay. Instead, his eyes lit up with evident approval. “Yes! Sensible shoes! You will do fine!”

The hours seemed like minutes, but soon it was time to leave. I was unsure how long the return trip would take and the last bus ran at seven. No need to take chances and miss it. If you missed the last bus, you were stranded! My hike back was just as beautiful, although my camera battery had died. I saw many places where I would have liked to do a self portrait. It was times like these that I really missed David Kincannon. If he were here, I would have albums of me on my hike.

Back in Callelongue, I sat at the bus station, reading once again. A taxi crouched nearby, like a spider, lying in wait for the eventual stranded tourists who would be more than willing to pay the return price to civilization.

I arrived back at the room to find that Deanna had procured dinner. Some sort of rice dishes and bread. After dinner, we walked around the port to take some night photos. It is a beautiful place at night and a wonderful end to a wonderful day. I know that I will be going back to the Calanques again tomorrow, so you may not hear from me for awhile!Au revoir!

La Charite Museum

2009-05-22T03:15:00.004-05:00

Yesterday, I decided to visit Saint-Victor Abbey. It was located just a few blocks from the hotel, so I set out on foot once again. Walking is a way of life here, and the sidewalks are always full. Every block seems to have its own bakery, flower shop, and fresh produce shop. I really like that.

The Abbye, of course, was beautiful, but in a different way from the cathedral. Less ornate, certainly, and quiet. I walked through the arched doorways and immediately noticed a young woman sitting in the back row of the church. Who would not notice her? She was sobbing softly, holding a white cloth to her eyes. I tried to be as unobtrusive as possible, but boy, did she ever put a damper on my sightseeing!

I made my way around the perimeter of the interior. I placed a few coins in a donation box for something. Judging by the drawings and photos, I would guess it was for needy children. I then made my exit on the far side. I skirted the exterior, taking note of a single lost trekking pole which now adorned the wall of the Abbye. Not bad for a final resting place.
I returned to the hotel room, changed into a tank top and shorts, and then climbed to the top of Fort Saint Nicolas across the street. I found a nice, grassy area in the sun and lay down to soak up some rays. I lay there, listening to distant church bells ringing, and dozed in the sun for awhile…nice!

I finally returned to the hotel in time to go for an evening run. There were even more people out running in the evening. And the volley ball matches still continued. I returned to the hotel, changed clothes and rushed back out to get some photos of the sunset.
I was attempting to snap a photo of myself when I was noticed by a few fellows sitting on one of the benches near the volley ball courts. One of them smiled and asked me something in French. Even without understanding the words, I understood the meaning. He was offering to take the photo for me.
“English?“ I asked.
“Oh, Leetle, leetle,“ he said apologetically. “You speak French?”
“Very little also,” I laughed. “I can say Bon Jour…um…merci…and…mmm…tres cher!”
He laughed loudly and then asked, “You…from Canada?”
“No. United States. America.”
“Ah. American. Yes. You…umm…married? You have….number?” He mimed the universal phone-to-the-ear sign.
I had to laugh. As someone would put it, these guys don’t play. They get right to the point.
“Yes,” I told him. “I have a boyfriend, no number.”
“But he…is…hotel?”
“No. In America.”
“Oh. Is good. Is good!” He insisted that we take our photo together.
This morning, I was up early! Mainly because Deanna informed me that a breakfast was included with our room and they served until 10:00. What???? I’ve been missing out on Free Food since Saturday?? I have to make up for lost time!

I went up to the 7th floor, where my free breakfast awaited. OMG! This breakfast buffet was fantastic. All kinds of fresh fruits and juices, pastries, and cheeses. The eggs - I hesitate to even call them scrambled since that sounds so unplanned - melted in my mouth. Easily the best I’ve ever had. The coffee was excellent. And, of course, plenty of surprise foods. Yogurt with fruit. No plastic containers here -glass- with fruit on the bottom. F-A-N-C-Y!

I needed a good breakfast since my plan today was to walk, walk, walk…all over the city. I left the hotel and once again made my way around the harbor. This was getting to be familiar territory. The morning fish market was in full swing again.
I angled toward La Charite Museum, stopping along the way at the Tourist Information building. I wanted to know about how to rent a bike here. Everywhere you go in this city, you will find rows of rental bikes lines up.
You pick a bike, ride to your destination, and park it. When you’re ready to leave, you pick out a bike, ride it to your destination, and leave it there. The machine puts a deposit on your card and refunds it when you park the bike again. What a way to get around! Unfortunately, it requires a credit card to rent and most foreign cards do not work. She inspected mine and regretfully informed me that I would be unable to rent a bike with it. Darn! It would have made life so much easier!

I continued my walk to the Charite Museum. Another beautiful place.
I walked around inside and attempted to go into the church in the center. A man met me at the door, indicating that I could not go in. I greeted him with the usual.
“English?”
“Yes. Um…Ticket?” he inquired.
A conversation ensued in which he employed the assistance of two passers-by to assist. I eventually understood that I was to purchase a ticket and then…un..deux…trois…he pointed to several different rooms along the perimeter, and then I would be allowed to enter the church. I thanked everyone involved and made my way around the courtyard. I purchased a ticket which, from what little I understood, would enable me to enter two art exhibits and then the church. I attempted to enter one of the exhibits with my ticket, but was redirected to the other exhibit. Evidently, there was an order to this exhibit and they meant to follow it.

So I dutifully roamed through the first exhibit - paintings by an artist named Buffet. This Buffet fellow was (is?) obviously suffering from severe depression. Every painting portrayed some sort of macabre scene, usually involving death or nudity, or both. One painting even portrayed a clown - the saddest clown I’ve ever seen. Another depicted a skeletal woman in a grave - along with her skeletal unborn child. Jeez! I just wanted to see the church!

The man who had earlier redirected me now welcomed me into the second exhibit. He asked my opinion on the way out.
“You like?”
“No. Too dark,” I told him honestly. We chatted for a few moments and I learned that he had lived in Sacramento for six years. And still, I could barely understand him.
Finally, I was free to go see my church! I marched proudly back to the church steps, ready to show the ‘ticket man’ that I had now performed all the steps required for admittance. But now, of course, he was nowhere in sight!
I strolled in and wandered around for a while. This church smelled faintly like chalk..dry and dusty. This entire structure had been built to house the poor centuries ago. Hey, I could live in a poorhouse like this.
Now to get back to the hotel so I could run a tub full of hot water and soak my aching bones for a while!

Marseille

2009-05-18T11:17:00.004-05:00

Today I woke up late - 1100! Deanna was long gone to her meeting. I had no idea what to really do with myself, other than to try and find the tourist information center. I decided that today would just be a get-to-know-you walk around the port. We were located on the East side of the u-shaped port which opened to the sea on the South side.

I made my way around the port on the sidewalk which boasted cafes and shops. The fish market was in full swing as I passed the interior curve of the port and headed down the West side. I was trying to keep an eye out for the tourist information building, but didn’t see it on my way over. However, I found myself doing so much people watching and architecture goggling that I could easily have missed it. I walked along the harbor with a breathtaking view of the Mediterranean Sea.
I eventually ran out of sidewalk so I began to make my way back. By this time I was wearing down already. I moved to the interior side of the street which was protected from the sun by the ancient, towering buildings. Ah! Much better!

This time around, I spied the tourist information building and went inside. Of course, everything was in French so it really didn’t help me much. Even in French, though, it looked like the same touristy stuff you see in all the American places of interest. Flyers advertising corny shows and thrill rides of one kind or another. I didn’t see anything about possible bicycle routes, which was the one thing I really wanted. I waited in line for the next available clerk, and he gave me a brochure in English and mapped out a ride along the coast of about 10 km. It would probably be a busy street by the look of it, but if I started early, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. But that would be another day.

With my information in hand, I began to look for a restaurant for lunch. I didn’t want to spend a lot, so I found a nice little place with reasonable prices and ordered a salad and a coke. The salad was perfect. A plate of tomatoes and lettuce, covered with mozzarella cheese and basil. The lunch revived me, so I decided to walk over to the La Charite museum which involved crossing back over to the other side of the harbor again. Oh well. No rest for the weary.

The bustling fish market had disappeared, but the smell still lingered. I trekked back down the West side, then turned right, up the Rue Tasso toward the museum.
But when I came upon the Cathedrale de la Nouvelle Major, I couldn‘t pass it by.

This cathedral was built in the late 1800’s, so it is relatively new for this area. I walked in and, sure enough, it still had that ‘new cathedral smell’. I soon discovered that my camera is way too small for photos here, since I can fit in only a fraction of the subject. I wandered around inside and was amazed for about an hour. It is huge. All marble, mosaic tiles, and echoes, with intricately carved figures on every marble column.
They were setting up for something inside. I was afraid it might be preaching, which I didn’t care to hear in any language, so I took my leave. As I left, several people were assisting an elderly lady up the church steps. She had obviously come to take part in whatever they were gearing up for inside. She was beautifully dressed in green, with a black lace scarf over her head. I wanted to take a photo, but I didn’t want to be rude.

I returned to the harbor via the esplanade de la Tourette. This street led to a beautiful overlook of the harbor, followed by several flight of stairs which took you back to the port street level.
This time I took the free ferry across the harbor and then walked back to the hotel. I swiped an apple from a display in the lobby and headed back up to the room. At least now I had an idea of what to expect out on the street. Tomorrow I would have a firmer plan in mind when I set out.

Deanna arrived back from her daily conference and we walked around until we found a small chocolatier shop. I bought a mini-quiche, a chocolate pastry, and a bottle of water. We carried our goodies back to the room, both of us admitting that we were worn out. Time to call it a night.

The next morning, I decided to go for a run along the harbor. A sidewalk extends along the beach between the coastal road and the sea away from the harbor area. However, it is just as busy. Below me, people were doing everything - scuba diving, swimming, soccer, and sunbathing. I actually came to a stop at one point to watch some men playing beach volley ball. French six-pack abs on the beach. Worth stopping for, believe me!

Up on the road level, there was even more action. There was the usual eclectic mix of traffic on the roadway, and on the sidewalk was a mix of runners, walkers, rollerbladers, and even an occasional scooter.

I eventually returned to the hotel, showered, and set out once again. Across the street from the hotel, I climbed to the top of Fort St Nicolas. The view was fabulous.
I never had gotten around to mapping out an itinerary, so I just started wandering around. I eventually found myself in the Arab Market section of town. French is hardly spoken here, it is mostly Arabic - like it matters to me? I stopped to drool over a huge display of olives. I really wanted to buy some, but wasn’t sure how they were flavored, so I let them be.

I wandered back down to the portside and admired the beautiful boats along the way.

As I wandered back toward the hotel, I came upon traffic backed up on the road. A motorcycle lay on its side, halfway under a car. The drivers of the car and motorcycle paced back and forth, speaking with rapid-fire French, while a young woman, evidently the passenger on the motorbike, sat in the street, crying. I am sure that with this kind of traffic, this is not an unusual scene.
Back at the hotel once again, I took a welcome break and waited for Deanna to return. Then we walked, once again, away from the harbor area to find something to eat. We heard a big bang ahead and I witnessed the second accident of the day. This time a small van had rear-ended a small car. This place was wild, I tell you!

Being Sunday, everything on these streets was closed. We decided to walk back to a small market and get sandwich supplies, but it was closing as we arrived. So, by chance, we happened to find an extremely small pizza place. Inside was basically a small area to order, but no tables. Outside, on the sidewalk, were two small tables with a couple of chairs at each. Apparently, this was mainly a delivery pizza venture, as evidenced by the young man on a motorbike who wheeled haphazardly onto the sidewalk and screeched to a stop. He rushed inside, and there followed a swift conversation between him and the older couple behind the counter. He emerged, carrying several pizzas, shoved them into the carrier mounted on back of the bike, jumped on and proceeded to zip through an impossibly narrow space between two parked cars, and was off like the wind.

We worried over the menu until the lady behind the counter offered us one in English. We chose one with four toppings: ox, lamb, onions, and peppers. I was so hungry, I could have eaten an entire ox by myself!
We sat down at one of the tiny tables outside and, lo and behold, Motorbike boy appeared again. He had already delivered those pizzas and was back for more! He rushed inside, and another spate of French followed. Again he ran out the door, and this time (maybe for our benefit?) broke into song as he mounted his bike for another daredevil tour. This time he met a mountain biker as he squeezed through a narrow space between a parked car and some construction barriers. The mountain biker efficiently jumped the curb and onto the sidewalk while motorbike boy performed a deft swerve to the left, and he was off again. Neither of them batted an eye. Jeez!

We would see him at least one more time, maybe twice, before we got our pizza and left. He must have nerves of steel and amazing endurance. Just watching him appear and disappear was a nerve-wracking experience.

We took our pizza back to the hotel. On the return trip, the guys involved in the car/van accident were still there, pulled over to the side of the road. What a bummer.

The pizza was DELICIOUS!! A pizza without cheese? Who would have thought? I may have to try that at Pizza Hut when I return, although I doubt I can find ox or lamb…

Talimena Tammy Goes Global!

2009-05-17T11:00:00.005-05:00

It seems as if I have been planning this trip forever. One whole month in Europe! Who could have guessed? Of course I can’t afford i,t but when would I ever have this opportunity again - and with free lodging? Deanna is footing the bill for that, plus she lives there, temporarily at least. I needed to take clothes for hiking, biking, strolling around, and yoga, but I also wanted my comfy lounging around clothes like my favorite 70’s throwback Kramer pants.
I worried about taking too much, so I tried to pack light. Cycling clothes seemed to take up most of the space.

Clinton was nice enough to drive me to the airport, and I think he truly believes that he will never see me alive again.
“Haven’t you seen that movie, ‘Taken’?“, he asked me.
“Oh, you can’t let fear control your life,“ I answered.
I don’t think he realizes that I wouldn’t fetch much of a price, especially once I began to speak.

We made it safely to the gate , and very early I might add. I put my information into the computer for my boarding ticket. The machine informed me, quite apologetically, that my flight had been canceled. But I would be allowed to fly out the next day.
“Oh, no, no, no. This cannot be. I am upset,” I walked over to the man behind the counter and looked him in the eye. “I am upset,” I told him calmly.
“Not to worry, I think we can get you on the next flight. Your arrival will be early, but I think you can just make it.”
All right , I can handle early. I turned to say goodbye to Clinton and the boys. Clinton had brought along his camera for that last photo with Nanny. The boys were standing nearby, eyeing the escalator.
“Come take your picture with your Nanny,” Clinton said. “You might never see her alive again.” You would think that a statement like that would spur them to action. But instead, they stood nearby with their eye on the escalator, every child’s dream.
“But there’s an escalator right there,” Slade pointed out. “We could go down it.”
I managed to talk them away from the enticing escalator long enough to get the photo, but their eyes remained glued to its hypnotic movement. So I said goodbye and made my way through the security line. I don’t know if Clinton realized it yet, but he was living much more dangerously than I was, escorting two young boys down an escalator.
I went through security, sat down at the gate, and logged on to the internet. Deanna had sent me a last minute safety message which included the number of her staff sergeant, in case something bad happened and I found myself stranded.

The trip over went pretty well. I, being the cheapskate that I am, booked the cheapest flight. This meant changing planes in Chicago and Copenhagen. If I had realized what a hassle it was, I would gladly have paid more to avoid that.

The flight from Dallas began early, but we landed in bad weather in Chicago. As we were making a sketchy descent in a thunderstorm, I was thinking ’Oh my God, Clinton was so right! The boys will never see me alive again!’. But my fear was forgotten once we were on the ground.
I quickly began to find my way to the next gate -international gate M. It was a bit difficult to find. When I asked directions, I was told, “Just go across the street , elevater 1b, down, around. under over…….then you’ll be to terminal 5.”
I began walking toward the mythical terminal 5.…it had to be out there somewhere. I got more directions from another man who told me that I must catch a train to M.
“I have one hour,“ I told him.
“Hmm. You might make it,“ he said doubtfully.
I found the train and made it just in time to board. Yeah, step one accomplished. I arrived at my gate just in time to get on board. I just hope my luggage made a better transition. I sat next to a young girl from Iowa who was heading to Denmark to be a Nanny for the summer. Cool!
The Copenhagen landing was better, but the airport was a bit more confusing. I was rushing along toward what I thought was the right area when I came upon the security checkpoint. It really didn’t make much sense. We just got off a plane - we've already been checked!! There were a lot of people standing in line. Chinese, with their dark business suits and women from India with their brightly colored scarves and dresses. Finally we make it through that obstacle, only to come upon another one just around a corned on the next floor! This time it was passports. Fortunately, this didn’t take as long and we were off again.

But Paris was the bomb, baby! I came straight off the plane went directly to the baggage area. My baggage was the first on the line and all in one piece! I loaded everything on my buggy and looked for a place to sit and wait for Deanna. She had warned me that she would probably be late, maybe even 9 pm. But let me tell you, paris is the place to people watch! There were some women who looked like they just stepped of the page of the glamour magazine. And a lot of the men were the same. Handsome, stylishly dressed, and do they smell good!!! Most of the people walking by would really cause a stir in Idabel, Oklahoma, let me tell you!
After a while, I began to feel really out of place and wished that Deanna would appear. I was getting nervous and letting my imagination run wild. What if she had been in a car accident? This thought prompted me to buy an international calling card. The man at the desk was very nice and explained how to use the card in English. Then he gave me my change in euros. Cool! My first Euros!
I made several calls to the number she gave me, but a French voice answered and began explaining something abut the number I had dialed. I didn’t understand if I was leaving a message or if she was telling me the number was no longer in service. Either way I left two messages for someone, because Deanna never got them.

When she finally showed up after ten , I was ecstatic. I had already had visions of having to live there in the airport like Tom Hanks.

We loaded up Deanna’s jeep and headed out of Paris. There were roadblocks on the street she wanted to use, so we did get to see the scenic route. Narrow streets lined with parked cars. I had to suck my belly in and sit taller every time we shot through one of those. The motorcycles zipped between cars with little care.
Bicycles, cars, trucks, motorcycles, and mopeds all blended together with lots of beeping. The noise didn’t bother me too much since my ears were still stopped up from the flights. Everything was nicely muffled.
We ended up at the e-Tap hotel. I kept wondering why that didn’t sound appealing until I realized that it rhymes with flea-trap. It was actually pretty clean and efficient. We need more of these in the States. Small, clean, efficient rooms for a small price. On this particular evening, the desk was being manned by a clone of Stanley on the Office, personality and all!
The price included breakfast which is where I learned that every meal may be a surprise for me in this country. Everything was labeled in French. I ended up with honey, bread, cereal, and applesauce (which I thought was yogurt).
My hearing was much better today. During the night, my ears had forgiven me for yesterday’s torture and decided to start working again.
We were soon on our way to Marseille. A short stop netted a human sized peach tea…and Deanna’s “it’s-only-a-euro-more” size. Nice!! She also bought some chips and, since she doesn’t read French either, her food is also a surprise every time. This time: mustard relish flavor. Surprisingly good.
We wanted to make a short stop to see the Pont du Gard near Nimes. This is an ancient Roman aquaduct which once carried water to Nimes.

I won’t bother posting many pictures on the blog of each site, since my camera does not do justice to any of them. Nor will I give you a detailed history of each site. Look them up yourself, lazy butt! :) I’ll post all photos on my Flickr account, though, if anyone is interested.
I did see a bicyclist and turned green with envy. What a place to ride! I had to take his photo. He looked so very French!
We tromped around there for a while and then climbed up to an overlook. My ears began to pop again with just this small increase in altitude. They were still upset about those flights yesterday and tended to panic anytime the altitude increased by a few feet.
Deanna has a nicer GPS than the one taken on our Utah trip. It is awesome and it seems to get us where we‘re going. The next address was the hotel that the army would be paying for the next week. While Deanna attended her classes during the daytime, I would walk around, get information and just have fun. When she gets off, we would try to fit in a short sightseeing trip if we could.. I had obtained an international drivers license, but I’m not sure I’m brave enough to use it yet. The traffic is INSANE!!
Our next stop was in the town of Nimes, the one-time destination of the Roman aquaduct. Absolutely awesome. We parked underground, made our way back up to the street, and began walking. Sure enough, it didn’t take long to find the Arena, built around A.D. 100. Unfortunately, they had just closed. But the outside was impressive enough. As we made our way around the arena, we were approached by a man who insisted he would take us for a tour. We politely declined. and moved along. If he thought we were crawling into a car with a stranger who reeked of alcohol, he had better think again! I only do that in the States!!
Next we walked over to the Temple of Diana.
It was a quiet place, not many tourists there. We found this sign:

So of course, Deanna immediately forced me to take incriminating photos of her blatant illegal escalading of the temple. She is going straight to Hades, I tell you, and dragging me down with her.

We headed back toward the car, walking alongside the Quai du Pomenade. Peacefuol water flowed between these tree-lined streets with old houses towering above. Wonderful. As we walked I noticed a man walking toward us coming up the street. He was beautiful! Our eyes met as we passed and I saw his eyebrows rise. After he passed, I turned to look at him again, and he was looking back at me. I laughed out loud and quickly turned away again, but couldn’t resist one last look. This time he was walking backward and saying something with his thumb up. So I gave him one back. I am learning quickly not to make eye contact with the men. I believe what they say about Frenchmen is true!
We made our way back to the car, and had to push a button to be allowed back into the parking garage. A voice came on and asked a question in French.
“English?” I asked. I think he told us to open the door now.
We entered and found our HUGE American vehicle. It seems gigantic over here.
On the drive to Marseille, Deanna was telling me about all the places she had been and wanted to go. She is using her vacation time as fast as she earns it, she told me. Her motto: Burn it as you earn it!
Anyway, we arrived at our hotel at around 11 pm, and couldn’t believe this is where we were supposed to be. Deanna went in to register and came back out with a funny look on her face.
“We so do not belong here,“ she said. For a moment, I thought we were at the wrong hotel. Suddenly, we were swarmed by porters waiting to take our luggage and park our vehicle. My stuff was scattered in the jeep like the Beverly hillbillies. I looked at the mess lying of the ground after I drug it from the truck and was busily trying to stuff everything back in.
The porter greeted us with “Bon Jour.”
“Bon jour,” I returned, and then, “How do you say in French, ‘I’m sorry‘?”
“Desole” he told me.
I gestured to the chaos on the ground.
“Desole” I told him apologetically. He smiled and loaded up our bags. He deposited us on the elevator and pushed the button for our floor. ‘
“Your luggage will be up shortly, mademoiselles”
When we arrived at our rooms…..HOLY COW! We’ve never stayed at a place like this. Two luxurious beds adorned with chocolate and perfume. Pillows made from little pieces of heaven. A Bose sound system with iPod attachment, flat screen tv, evian bottled water, teas, coffee, and robes and slippers in the bathroom. Awesome!!! We would be staying for seven days in this? I could live with this!

Forget the eTap Hotel!
Later we would joke about how out of place we are.
“We are so hillbilly that when they came running out to get our luggage and car, we were screaming ‘Help! Help! I’m being robbed!’” We laugh about it outside, but we try to look dignified when we walked through the lobby. I really need to learn how to say ‘hillbilly’ in French, just so I’ll know if they’re talking about me...

Newest Lesson

2008-11-25T08:36:00.009-06:00

There are lessons in life that, at 46, I should not have to learn. And yet, my unquenchable thirst for adventure, combined with my thorough lack of common sense, keeps pushing me to acquire new knowledge in the most painful ways.

The most recent was a short, overnight backpacking trip with my coworker friend, Kyle. Kyle is in his early twenties and was eager for his very first backpacking trip. Between Miranda and my schoolwork, my time is limited, so we decided on an easy one night, three mile trip to Bee Creek at Beaver’s Bend Park.

After working all night, we each went home to grab a few hours sleep before meeting at Pruett’s parking lot in Broken Bow in the afternoon. We grabbed a few items to eat, and then made our final stop at the ‘alcoholic beverage’ store.

We had previously discussed taking along a little something to drink. Since I don’t relish the taste of alcohol, I considered a glass or two of red wine. But weight is an issue when you're backpacking. You don’t want to be lugging around a couple of bottles of wine in your backpack. Lucky for me, Kyle (who is not too far past the invincible, golden age of 21) had an easy answer. Vodka!

Yep. That’s right. Vodka. I have memories of vodka. Bitter, painful memories, I might add. Vodka and I once spent a putrid night together back in my teenage days, along with some quite tasty orange juice. We soon had a most traumatic parting of the ways. Even today, I can't enjoy a simple glass of orange juice without a major flashback.

“It’s really good!” I heard Kyle saying knowledgeably. I shook myself out of my trauma-induced trance to see him standing there, eagerly holding up a not-so-small bottle of clear liquid. “You mix it with lemonade,” he added excitedly. We had just bought dry lemonade mix at the grocery store. In crystal-clear hindsight, I can see that this is the exact moment when things began to go really, really wrong. I heard myself say stupidly, “Sure, why not?”

Note to self: Never, ever give affirmative answers to a twenty-something-year-old friend, with raised eyebrows and a gleam in his eye, holding a bottle of 100-proof liquor. Never!

We arrived at the trailhead and packed our gear. A lone motorcycle camper was packing up in the campground nearby. He strolled over to us, carrying a bottle of Jim Beam in his hand.
“You guys drink?” he asked.
Kyle and I looked at each other.
“Sure,” Kyle said, confident.
“Here, you can have the rest of this if you want it,” he said, handing over the bottle. There were a couple of inches of amber liquid rolling around in the bottom.
“I’ve had enough,” he said. Later, I would remember this as a sign. A warning that I failed to heed, of course.

Since Kyle didn’t own a backpack, he was borrowing my old one. He is over six feet tall and football-player size, so every strap was stretched to the limit. We made it work, though, and finally we were off. As we headed around the backside of Cedar Bluff trail, it didn’t take long to get warmed up; overheated, in fact. I looked back at Kyle, who was wearing a long-sleeved sweatshirt.
“If I had a knife,” he wished aloud, “I would cut these sleeves off already.”
Wish granted. We stopped and dug out a knife, he held out his arms, and I went to work on his sleeves. As I swished dangerously close to skin several times, I found myself humming a Sheryl Crow song, ‘The First Cut is the Deepest’. Fortunately, we performed this operation before the alcohol.
Soon we arrived at Bee Creek and located a remote campsite upstream. Darkness wasn’t too far away and, after setting up the tent, we took a moment to sit down. It was definitely cooling off, so we decided to build a small fire. Soon, we found ourselves kicked back, close to the fire, drinking vodka and lemonade.
“That’s pretty good stuff,” I said. “I can’t even taste the alcohol!”
Six words that should never be uttered when you’re three miles into the woods and have to hike out the next day, carrying all your gear. They still echo in my head. “I can’t even taste the alcohol!” Idiot! Plus, we had decided that we weren’t hungry enough to eat yet.

I’ve since devised a formula to aid in the decision to drink or not to drink. First, you take the proof of the alcohol, add the number of hours since your last meal, add your age, subtract the age of your drinking partner, and multiply the total by the number of times you’ve sworn never to drink again, and then multiply that total by the number of miles you will be forced to hike miserably with a hangover. In my case, it looked like this:

100 + 8 + 46 – 24 (1,534) (3)

If your answer is ANYTHING, other than zero, don't do it!

Unfortunately, I did not have this formula on hand around the campfire. And we were having a great time. I learned that Kyle, like so many of his generation, grew up on horror films. Friday the 13th kind of stuff. You know, movies you shouldn’t remember when you’re camping in the woods.

We began discussing the movie industry. Kyle's fondest wish would be to become a director of horror films. He keeps a running script in his head. And nowhere does his imagination work overtime as it does when working at the hospital. After all, the hospital can be an eerie place at night. Sometimes late at night, as I'm walking down the dimly lit hallway, with rows of doors on each side, I'm reminded of 'The Shining'. To top it off, our hospital is (according to some) haunted by an entity known as "The Gray Lady".

I’ve often teased Kyle about skulking around the hallways, looking like the Angel Of Death in his black scrubs. Geriatric patients should not open their eyes and find him looming over them.

One night, I peeked in on a patient and observed her sleeping for a moment. Usually, I can hear my patients breathing from the doorway, but I heard nothing from her. I opened the door a bit more and peeked in. Even with the dim light from the hallway outside, I could barely make out her form on the bed. I tiptoed further into the dark room, closely watching for signs of life. Nothing. I crept closer, eyes on her chest, thinking breathe, dammit, breathe! The thought of a Code Blue was running through my head when she finally took a breath and moved. But even as relief was washing over me, I immediately became aware of another presence in the room. I glanced up sharply to find Kyle, lurking behind the curtain on the other side of the bed, hand clapped over his mouth to contain his snickering! I jumped straight up and landed with a curse. We both ran into the hall laughing. I bet he would have loved to have that one on film!

Anyway, this trip was right up his alley. Horror film buffs love the wilderness settting. Hence The Blair Witch Profect and Deliverance. According to the movie industry, there are a million scary things that can happen in the woods.

As I excused myself and took a short walk to the bathroom, I could hear the script running in my head…

The sound of footsteps in the leaves fade away, followed by eerie silence.
Suddenly, a piercing scream, and then…nothing…
But something was out there…watching…

By now, it was completely dark, the stars were shining, and we had several can’t-taste-the-liquor drinks behind us. We were swapping stories and laughing more than anybody has a right to. By golly, this was fun!

Then, for some reason known only to our alcohol-saturated minds at the time, we decided to climb to the top of the bluff over the river to gaze at the stars. So armed only with our headlamps and a squeeze bottle full of lemonade and vodka, we took off on our journey in the dark.

I can still remember floating along, my feet barely skimming the tree roots, rocks, and water, thinking, “I should bring vodka on every backpacking trip! It makes hiking so easy!” I was skimming along pretty quickly, branches flying out behind me, with the grace and agility of a ballerina! Amazingly, at the same time, I had even managed to figure out those pesky existential questions that have haunted mankind since the dawn of time. What is the meaning of life? Why are we here?
It’s so simple...We’re here for Vodka!

I don’t remember much after we began the climb, however. The extreme exertion of pulling ourselves up the steep trail to the top caused us to lose sight of our objective. Instead of venturing off the trail and onto the top of the bluff to enjoy the view, we found ourselves collapsed on the bench at the side of the trail, gasping for air. When our oxygen levels once again exceeded our alcohol levels, we decided it was time to head back.

Upon our return, we found that a lot of our enthusiasm had somehow worn off.
“I think I’m ready for bed,” I told him. He didn’t need much convincing.
“Me, too.”
So we crawled into the tent. Neither of us had brought along a watch, and we later joked that it was probably only 7:30, but at the time it felt like midnight. I drifted straight off to sleep.

I don’t know what time I awoke. And I’m not sure why I awoke. It could have been the knife-like pain that exploded somewhere between my left eye and temple with every heartbeat. Perhaps it was the waves of nausea washing over me. Maybe it was my bladder screaming for relief. Or maybe, just maybe, it could have been hypothermia setting in, since I had left my jacket outside by the fire.

I tried to convince myself to get up. If I could make myself get up, I could accomplish three very important tasks: use the bathroom, retrieve my jacket, and throw up. But I couldn’t make myself get up, so I remained there, miserably waiting to see which would rupture first…my overextended bladder or the throbbing artery in my brain.

I could envision Kyle waking up tomorrow to live out one of his movie scenes in real life...

Kyle awakes and sits up, groggy, looking over at Tammy still sleeping..
“Tammy…hey, Tammy…wake up, it’s morning!”
He shakes her but gets no response. Realization slowly dawns.
He’s alone, in the middle of the woods, with a dead body in his tent!
He begins screaming like a girl…

But I did survive the night. And Kyle survived his first backpacking trip. The hike out was quiet and painful. It took me two days to recover and I’m adding this item to my list of important lessons learned.
Take if from me - Backpacking and Vodka do not mix!

Officially "Nerdy"

2008-10-22T13:48:00.004-05:00

I see this photo of presidential candidate Barack Obama all over the internet lately. It has been scrutinized by the political fashion police and proclaimed to be the epitome of nerdiness. Note the tag-along bike attached but not in the photograph. His daughter is riding behind him. You can see them in action in this video...

If that photo make him a nerd....Slade and I must be nerds supreme! I am soooo thankful that the media didn't find me when I pulled the Slademan to school on his tag-along...on Hippie Day, no less!!

Nerdy we may be, but at least we were consistent with our theme...I wore my Peace and Love cycling socks!

And what do I say to all those 'haters' out there?

PEACE!

Sex and Money

2008-09-29T10:00:00.005-05:00

Sorry, I just had to get your attention for an important announcement. I'm still busy with the books and Miranda. But I need to preach for just a moment.

The upcoming elections are important to all of us. Our world becomes more complex every day. This election, instead of listening to hearsay, gossip, and rumors, let's inform ourselves. Actively search for the truth. It's at our fingertips these days.

I won't go into my thoughts on religion, the environment, or war. But let's stop for a moment and truly reflect on history and the lessons it should have taught us by now. Start your search today.

Oklahomans can start here ...or here....or anywhere...just try!

The result of donations...

2008-09-26T21:37:00.003-05:00

If you donated to the cause, here is your commercial. I like it!

Another busy day!

2008-09-25T22:22:00.001-05:00

Wow! What a day. As you may (or may not) know, I have recently become the legal guardian of my niece, Miranda. So with the certification requirements and school, I've been running my buns off trying to get everything ready for her to move in with me. For those of you unfamiliar with Miranda, she is now 20 years old and has Angelman's Syndrome, a relatively rare genetic disorder that, among other things, causes mild to severe mental retardation. So, although her chronological age is 20, her emotional age is probably around the preschool level.

Pink is her favorite color, so I took her to WalMart to buy clothes and bedroom accessories. Now her bedroom is all ready. Yes, it's the guest room that I was so proud of when I redecorated. The previous décor is in storage and the room now belongs to Queen Miranda. All pink and frilly.

She stayed for her first night last night. Things went pretty well, especially after we made another run to WalMart for some extra bling to wear to school. A pretty pearl bracelet and new shoes. Oh, and don't forget the tiara. A very important item to have when you want to bribe someone into the bathtub.

“No crown until you've taken a bath,” I told her, after she balked at the mention of bathing. She practically ran to the bathroom.

“Wow, this is going to be even easier than I thought,” I told myself. She has a reputation for being stubborn at times, don't know where she gets it. But obviously, it's just not true. All lies, I thought!

This morning I was up at 6:30, ready to take her to school. She was all about getting dressed in her new clothes with her jewelry and, yes, even some lipstick. Her mother and I debated on whether to take her together, just me, or just her mother. We finally decided that it would be best with me. So off we went, singing our way to Broken Bow with the radio blasting. Miranda loves music.

When I pulled up to the school room, her teacher came out to meet me. I walked around the car to Miranda's door and found out what stubborn really means. She's learning sign language and I'm fairly certain that she gestured some bad things with her hands before turning away. That's what she does when she doesn't want to cooperate with you. Turn away and don't look back.

Since we couldn't forcibly drag her out of the car, her teacher and I had a long discussion right there. Miranda knew we were discussing her because she would give an occasional sidelong glance. Then, just to re-emphasize her stance on the matter she not only turned away, but covered her eyes too!

So she went back home with me after I promised to go back in the afternoon for another teacher meeting. As we pulled into the driveway, she smiled, raised her fist, and shouted, “I won!”

OK, so maybe I can't outsmart a preschooler...on the first day anyway. But I have my plans...

Then I spent a lot of time making appointments for her. Dental, medical, social. She's a busy girl. I went back (without Miranda) to the teacher's conference which ended up being three hours! We had a good time. Her teacher is amazing. It's so wonderful to have people like her to work with these special needs children.

Finally, I returned home just in time to squeeze in a bike ride before Cindy and Jesse came over. They arrived with Chinese food and Mary Ann Brownies. If you've never had Mary Ann's brownies, then you just haven't lived. They are incredible. We visited for quite a while. I even let Cindy bring her little dog in, even though I'll now have to fumigate and sterilize my house. (JUST KIDDING, CINDY!) Anyway, there went my diet! But what a way to go.

Cindy and Jesse crack me up. Just watching and listening to the dynamics between these two, who have been married now for, oh, about 100 years or so. It's hilarious. Like Laurel and Hardy.

Then to top off the day, I get a call from my friend, Sam. He's in Las Vegas at Interbike, a huge event with everything that is, was, and will be cycling. He just called to let me know that he met Lance Armstrong today. Way to rub it in, Sam!

I'm going to drink a hot cup of coffee, eat my last Mary Ann brownie, and I'm going to bed. I'll catch up on schoolwork....well, maybe tomorrow.

Tree-hugging Time

2008-09-18T11:56:00.007-05:00

As someone who has been recently diagnosed with asthma, I can attest to the fact that there are many things in our air that cause respiratory problems. And have you noticed how many people are afflicted with "allergy" problems these days?

I have done some research on what is in our air lately and it is scary! If you want to see it for yourself, try this website...

www.scorecard.org

If you are tired of having your air, your health, and your pocketbook trashed by big oil and want to do something about it, collect a dollar or two from several friends and donate at least $10 to this site...

www.wecansolveit.org

Maybe our grandchildren will be able to breathe a little easier.

Trip to McAlester

2008-09-18T11:37:00.002-05:00

I just love productive days! Since I don’t have a job or a set schedule, the days can get away from me so easily. But this week, I’ve been on a mission.

I’m working on the process of getting certified for the foster parent program. Actually, it’s with the Department of Developmental Disabilities, for my niece. The plan is to keep her for several months, perhaps a year or so, until she can be transitioned back to her natural mother, my sister.
There are many, many Specialized Foster Care requirements. I was forced to take a Medication Administration Technician course, even though I’m a licensed nurse. On Tuesday, I made the trip to the County Sheriff’s Department in McAlester to be fingerprinted.

After a brief dentist appointment, I filled up in Valliant and was on my way. I was listening to my iPod and daydreaming, I suppose, when my exit appeared. I quickly glanced around for other traffic. There was none to be seen, so in a split second and soon-regretted decision, I made a sharp right-hand swerve onto the exit ramp. What I didn’t see was that huge hole in the pavement. My left front tire hit it and immediately blew. I pulled over to the side of the exit ramp and got out.

Darn it! I hate when things like this happen. But it could have been worse, I suppose. It didn’t take long for a kind, older gentleman to stop and help me. He was in the process of building a gazebo for his wife. The back of his pickup was loaded with junk on its way to the junkyard. He made quick work of the blown tire, which was now beyond repair.

I thanked him profusely for his help and watched him drive away. I put on my flashers and limped slowly into McAlester on my little donut tire, searching for the Sheriff’s Office. Trust me, if you drive around slowly in a bright yellow car, flashers blinking, with a dazed and confused look on your face, many people will offer assistance. As I pulled up to an intersection, searching around desperately for a street sign, a young man pulled up beside me in a service van. He looked over at me and mouthed the words, “Do…you…need…help?”

I rolled down my window and told him what I was looking for. He sent me off in the right direction. Soon, though, I was searching again with the same result. Since I was going so slowly, I pulled over to let a pickup behind me pass. Instead of passing, he pulled up beside me and mouthed the words, “Do…you…need…help?”

After more directions, I took off again. This particular street is crammed with Official State and County organizations. Department of Correction, Animal Shelter, Juvenile Detention Center, State this, County that, but no Sheriff’s Office sign. I went too far and found myself at a dead end, both literally and figuratively. The McAlester State Prison. What a scary looking place! This is where they keep people on death row, isn’t it? A group of guards eyed me suspiciously and one of them came over to inquire as to my business there. I informed him of my ongoing search and again received instructions.
Two prisoners were led across the road directly in front of me as he was speaking and it was pretty creepy. They gave me a look that caused me to glance down quickly to make sure that I was still wearing my clothing!

I made a hasty retreat from that area and finally found the Sheriffs Office. I informed them of my intention and paid my fee of $10. They assigned me to a nice lady named Drew who led me through a maze of locked doors and cold hallways. Finally, I was deposited in an 8’x10’ room. A metal mesh bench was attached along two walls with periodical U-shaped protuberances, presumable for the attachment of handcuffs, when necessary. The floor was an odd brown color which, judging by the color of the tiles under the bench, was once a calming blue. The mesh bench led me to wonder, only briefly, what kinds of fluid accumulation would require such seating. This was the kind of room that could be sprayed down quickly with a hose. Very institutional.

“Don’t sit on that bench. Sit in the chair,” Drew ordered, indicating a black, rolling office chair sitting in front of a small table. She didn’t have to offer twice. She disappeared as I sat down to begin my wait.

My existence in the holding cell generated a lot of interest. Officers coming in would stare at me briefly, and then step through the locked door across the hall. A conversation would then ensue regarding the purpose of my being there. How did I know this? Because they stood in front of the shatterproof glass window and cast not-so-surreptitious glances, along with a few finger points, at me as they spoke.

A female prisoner appeared at the window across the hall to collect her belongings. It appeared that she was being released. By the looks of her, and the two accomplices who had come to pick her up, I would guess that a meth lab would be back in operation by nightfall.

She and her friends took turns staring at me as her belongings were inventoried. They accomplished this by taking turns to be the one facing me across the narrow hallway, engaging in a lively discussion the entire time. I tried to look tough, imagining what it would be like to share this room with one of them, but I don’t think I pulled it off.

Finally, I was taken back through more locked doors to be fingerprinted. The electronic fingerprinting device is pretty cool. I finished up and collected my brand new fingerprint cards. No life of anonymous crime for me anymore. My prints are now on file.

Drew gave me directions to Jet Tire, since I couldn’t make it back home on the donut. “Tell ‘em that Drew sent you,” she said, as she turned me out into a long hallway. I thanked her and began feeling my way out of the long maze of corridors. I finally saw a light ahead and bolted. It wasn’t the same way I came in, but I was glad to see the parking lot from any angle.

Drew’s directions were excellent. As I was waiting for a left turn at an intersection, a couple of scroungy guys in a beat-up pickup yelled “Hey, baby!” as they turned in front of me. Evidently, after my time in the slammer, they recognize me as one of their own. Cool!

I arrived at Jet Tire and was greeted by a man who looked as if he had been rolling around on the garage floor…for several months. I gave him my most winning smile. “Drew, from the Sheriff’s office, sent me here to have my tire replaced,” I told him.
He looked me over curiously.
“What business did you have at the Sheriff’s Office?” he inquired.
“I was being fingerprinted,” I told him, putting on my toughest inmate expression, trying to look mysterious and ignoring the obvious nosiness of the question.
“Hmm.” Evidently that was enough information, so I didn’t explain further. He escorted me out to my car, opened the trunk, and examined my ruined tire. He spouted off some official sounding letters and numbers.
“Yep, an S-14-XC-254, we have those. Just pull up in front of the door over there.”
I parked my car and went into the lobby to wait. It didn’t take long. He called me to the counter and resumed the interrogation effortlessly as I was paying.
“That will be one thousand dollars, minus your discount…that leaves $76. So, what’s a girl like you doing getting fingerprinted?”
Darn. I had to confess that it was only for a harmless foster care program, effectively ending my hardened criminal façade.

I arrived home on my new tire just in time to go for a run with Roy. I had noticed a dirt track extending around the school yard at Primary South when I walked Slade to school one morning. We decided to try it out. It was so much nicer than running on pavement! After the run, Roy informed me that he was gong to cook that evening. He would call me when it was ready. I just love that Roy loves to cook! I like to eat!

I was feeling pretty accomplished, so I decided to mow my yard while I waited. I always let my lawn get out of control before I mow it. So I spent quite a while out there, mowing with one hand and battling the fire ants with the other. The end result was a patchily mowed yard, some really pissed-off fire ants, and a set of polka-dotted, itchy legs for me. Attractive!

I finished just in time to grab a quick shower and get over to Roy’s. The dinner was EXCELLENTE! We watched a movie, Pitch Black, and drank Sangria. Mmmm. I knew we had a little too much Sangria when Roy brought out a pair of socks for me to put on so that we could have a sock-skating competition across the living room floor. Not a really good idea when you’ve had a few, but a heck of a lot of fun! I managed to almost take out the curtains and his guitar in one fell swoop! Quite an entertaining evening, to be sure.

Now it is back to studying. Darn, Darn, Double Darn!

Slade Puncher 3000

2008-09-11T12:05:00.007-05:00

I can smell the end of summer and I hate to see it go. My “alone” time this past summer has been somewhat limited by Cayman and Slade as they continue to demand more and more of my time and attention. Cayman turned two this summer, while the Slademan has managed to get seven whole years behind him!

They like to spend time here, even though my refrigerator is not stocked with “kid” food and there are really not that many toys to play with. We usually manage to find enough things to do, although they are sometimes desperately pathetic.

For example, we were all outside on a hot summer day, playing with the water hose when I made the mistake of wishing out loud for a swimming pool. Slade jumped on that real quick.
“Yeah! They have them at Wal Mart,” he shouted, “Let’s go get one!”
“Sure, they have them, but how would we get it home?” I asked.

It would not be easy in my little yellow car. I was considering my options, when I happened to glance over at my neighbor’s back yard. The tenants had moved out some time ago and had left behind, of all things, a kiddy swimming pool! Another serendipitous discovery!

“How about this?” I suggested. “I’ll boost you over the fence and you grab that pool. They're obviously not coming back for it, so we’ll just borrow it for a while.”

It didn’t take much convincing to get Slade over the fence. I wondered if, when he is arrested someday for grand larceny, he'll point the finger of blame at me? He pulled the pool to the fence and I lifted it over. After rinsing it out thoroughly, we began to fill it up. That’s when we noticed the holes. The water was running out almost as fast as it went in through half a dozen cracks in the side and bottom.

“Darn it!” I said. “I guess we won’t be swimming today.” We stood and watched forlornly as the water leaked out at a steady rate.
“Hey, wait a minute!” Slade said, “I know how we can fix it!”
He looked at me and grinned, “Duct tape!”
“Excellent idea!” I told him proudly.
We dried the pool and carefully applied duct tape to each crack, inside and out. Then we filled the pool again and this time it held. We all jumped in.

“That was excellent thinking, Slade,” I told him, as we lounged in our new used pool. “See? Now that's what I call using your brain!”
“And you know what’s even better?” he beamed proudly. “I didn’t even have to use my brain at all. I read that on a t-shirt one time. It said, We Can Save Our Planet...Duct Tape Fixes Everything!”

This led to a conversation about thinking projects for the future. Slade informed me of his plans that actually did include using his brain, as opposed to blindly following t-shirt advice.

“When I turn into an inventor, I’m going to build my lab where you open the door and slide down a slide. But I have to let you in. It’s a secret lab,” he told me.
“And what kind of things will you invent in this lab?” I asked. “Or is that top secret, too?”
“No, I guess I can tell you. My first invention will be a puncher that you pull back as far as you can and you let it go. It punches somebody and comes back to you. Like a balloon puncher! I’ve already invented it in my mind, but I don’t know how to build it.”
He had obviously been thinking about this one for a while.
“What will you name your invention?”
“I would call it...(dramatic pause)...The Slade Puncher 3000!” He said this with all the enthusiasm of an infommercial host.
“That sounds pretty cool!” I agreed. “The Slade Puncher 3000. That has a nice ring to it, but what does the ‘3000’ stand for?”
“Nothing. I just like how it sounds. You know, like on TV when they advertise stuff with numbers. Hey, do you want to help me with my invention?”
“Sure, I’ll help. But what could I do?”
He thought for a minute and then his eyes lit up. “Hey, I know! We can be a team. I can do all the thinking and you can do all the hard work! That’s called teamwork,” he explained.

Hmmm. Sounds like Slade could possibly have a career in politics or perhaps business administration.

And Cayman? Well, I think I see indications of plumber in his future!

Caller ID?

2008-09-07T11:10:00.003-05:00

If you've ever called my home phone and listened to my answering machine, you've undoubtedly heard my voice giving you the typical instructions: Leave your name and I'll return your call. Easy, right? OK, so let's review.

Leave your NAME.

Rationale: If you don't leave your name, there is a possibility, however remote, that I may not know who it is! The sad fact is that I don't have caller ID on my home phone. But I do recognize most voices, like Roy. Almost every message he leaves begins with "Hey, it's me." And I know who "me" is!

But I still have one mysterious message on my answering machine that I'm reluctant to erase. When I'm really bored, I'll replay it and ponder the source.

It was left in mid-August on a Tuesday. The voice is a male, definitely not from 'round here. The accent is possibly Australian, perhaps English? I'm not very adept at recognizing accents. But this is definitely not Bubba from Hochatown, Oklahoma. He's obviously excited and upbeat. The message goes something like this:

"Hey! How come you never phoned us back? We've been waiting by the phone. We got the bait bought for the fishing. And we got the canoes all polished up and all sharpened up. I think we got you (unintelligible) guys a license for the canoe..."

We? We who? At this point in the message, I'm thinking 'this is sooo the wrong number'! I'm certainly not much of a fishing person. I admit this is mostly due to a severe lack of ability. But as he continues speaking, I begin to think that maybe he does know me when he asks...

"...How's the bike riding going?"

Hmmm. Interesting.
Then he does this little mind-reading thing that is truly amazing.

"...You're probably thinking 'this phone is from Dr. Spock from Mars'..."

Yep. Something like that.

"...Well, you've probably got caller ID and Mars comes from (unintelligible) somewhere over here..."

No! I don't have caller ID! And over where???

"...But anyway, hope you'll give us a call back. Stay cool. Later!"

Hmm. This mystery may never be solved. I just hope that somewhere in Australia, there's not a skeleton of a man, leaning against a bait-filled canoe, with a cell phone in his hand...waiting for that return call.

Delight

2008-09-05T10:55:00.004-05:00

Man, it has been soooo long since I’ve blogged. Are you guys still out there?? I’m back in school for my final year! It can’t come too soon for me. Yesterday, I found myself encircled by thirteen open books while trying to complete an assignment. I’m limited on travel and leisure time, so I suppose I’ll be blowing off steam around here for the next few months.

I’ve had many changes in my life since my last post. The most significant would be the death of my friend, Delight.

It was still a shock, even though it was expected. I did get to visit her in Dallas a few days before she passed away.

Her bed in the ICU was more like a huge recliner, keeping her in more of a sitting position to help her breathing. I walked in, looked at her, and said, “What are you doing, lying up here in bed with people waiting on you hand and foot? I want some of that action!”

She said that it was good to see my smiling face. In the time that I was there, we laughed and cried together as we said our goodbyes. Even then, she was concerned about those she loved, especially her husband, TJ.

“Take care of my rock,” she told me, indicating TJ. Those two were, without a doubt, a perfect match. TJ is just as down-to-earth as she was and I can’t imagine what he’ll do without her around. But, like Delight, he has an inner strength that cannot be worn down.

I found this poem that brought comfort to me, so I posted it on her blog. It has a calming effect and is so….Delight.

All Is Well

Death is nothing at all,

I have only slipped into the next room

I am I and you are you

Whatever we were to each other, that we are still.

Call me by my old familiar name,

Speak to me in the easy way which you always used

Put no difference in your tone,

Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow

Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes we enjoyed together.

Play, smile, think of me, pray for me.

Let my name be ever the household world that it always was,

Let it be spoken without effect, without the trace of shadow on it.

Life means all that it ever meant.

It is the same as it ever was, there is unbroken continuity.

Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight?

I am waiting for you, for an interval, somewhere very near,

Just around the corner.

All is well.

Death has been with us since time began. What are we so afraid of? Just the unknown, perhaps. Sometimes, I get the feeling that everyone who has gone on before us are watching us and smiling wistfully at our continued struggle with the very thought of death. They look at one another, shake their heads, and say, “If they only knew…”

Can they send us a sign? Would we recognize it if we saw it?

The morning of her funeral, I happened to glance out my back window. I stopped and stared. The morning dew drops on the grass were huge and each drop seemed to be filled with a radiant light. The effect was like sparkling diamonds spread out all across the yard! Was I seeing things? Were they really as bright as I thought?

My friend, Sam, had stopped to visit on his way to Colorado. I called him to the window and asked him what he saw. “Wow! Those are bright!” he said. “That’s beautiful!”

Aha! I wasn’t seeing things! I sat and enjoyed the sight for a while and I like to thing that Delight was somewhere, nearby, smiling.

Last night, TJ called to see if he had sent me a thank you card. Bah! Who needs thank you cards? But I’m sure Johnice is keeping him on the straight and narrow. Anyway, we talked for a while and he asked how school was going. I assured him that it was even more stressful than before. I had been at it all day and had a raging headache to prove it.

He told me not to stress out too much.

“You know what they call doctors who graduate at the bottom of their class?” he asked.

Hmm. Idiots? Lazy bums? I didn’t know.

“They call them Doctor,” he said. And he’s right. I’ve got to stop stressing out about every little assignment..

Then he asked me if there was anything of Delight’s that I would want as a memento. Images of Delight’s smiling face flashed through my mind…at work…at home…in her car…

“Well, I’m sure she would want me to have her car,” I said.

We both laughed and agreed that Delight would have loved that one.

“Nice try,” he said. He decided he would pick something out for me. That’s probably the safest thing to do. J

Check, Mate

2008-04-28T09:15:00.006-05:00

After working 13 hours yesterday with 10 demanding patients, I decided that I hadn’t suffered enough. So I let the boys sleep over. Last week, Cayman stayed overnight at my house. And he didn’t cry! Not even once! No pathetic reaching for the doorknob with mournful sobs. I was encouraged by this and was looking forward to a repeat performance.

I went by to pick them up. Slade wanted to bring his new chess set. A family friend had given it to him and he was so excited. It is a beautiful set. “Paul let me choose any one I wanted and I chose this one,” he told me. “We played a game and we were in the middle of a big battle when Mama said it was time to go.” He sized me up, probably noting the tired eyes and dragging gait, sensing a weak opponent. “Do you want to play a game?”

Since I didn’t want to end my already tough day by losing a chess game to a six-year-old, I politely declined. But he brought it along anyway. “Just in case,” he added.

Slade and are planning to ride a portion of FreeWheel this summer. Earlier this month, we had been ‘working out’ together. I asked him if he was still training.
“No, I haven’t been training anymore,” he answered.
“Well, you better stay on the ball,” I told him. “It’s coming up pretty fast and you will need to be in shape.”
“What does that mean?” he asked.
“Getting in shape?”
“No, what does ‘stay on the ball’ mean?”
“Well, it means…” I searched for the right words to explain.
“Does it mean ‘stay on track’? he offered.
“Yes, that’s it!” I agreed.
“Well, you need to be more sus….more suspific when you speak to me,” he admonished.
“Oh really?” Evidently someone was trying out a new word.
“Yes, when you are more sus…pacif…suspific I can understand what you mean better.”
“Well, I’ll do my best…”
“OK, you have to be more ….spe-ci-fic…because,” he explained, giving me the solemn Slademan look, “I still don’t understand some human words.”

Slade fell asleep first, leaving me and Cayman to stubbornly compete for the “last one standing” award. He was definitely winning, having the advantage of a late afternoon nap. But I can be pretty stubborn myself. Finally, around 1 a.m., after a brief crying jag for his mama, he fell asleep. I carried him to bed and then drifted off to sleep myself.

At 5:30 am, I awakened to hear his pathetic cries from the laundry room. I ran to the back door to find him standing there, his head against the door with his arms hanging limply at his sides, sobbing pitifully, “Maaammaaaa…..maaamaaaa…..mama…”. It was just too sad to watch, so I called Shaina to come pick him up.

Slade stayed, though, and later he finally managed to con me into playing a game of chess with him. It’s been a long time since I’ve even seen a chess board. My redneck brother and I used to play every once in a while. And I am ashamed to admit that he won on a regular basis. He's very sly. I really think that his practice on the chess board helped to prepare him for his future lifestyle....eluding game wardens on a regular basis...

Slade placed the board on the table and set up the pieces.
“You know, I’m not sure I even remember how to play,” I told him warily. I was a bit uneasy. It was surprising to see how quickly he had accomplished the set up.
He held out his hand, palm up, to explain, “Well, in attack formation, your pawn can move sideways,” he said, moving the piece to show me how it was done. “If it’s your first move, your pawn can move one or two squares. But you need to look ahead to be careful where you move. You have to think ahead,” he warned.

I took out a pen and paper and pretended to write down his instructions. How cute! He was so serious. After a couple of moves, I watched as he moved his pawn close to mine. Well, I thought condescendingly, I won’t take it. I’ll give him a fighting chance. I pretended to study the board, ignoring the most obvious move.

He cupped his hand next to his mouth and whispered loudly at me. “Tammy…remember…attack formation…” He cut his eyes to our pawns sitting close together.
“Oh, yeah!” I quickly took his advice and captured his pawn with mine. Well, he asked for it!
He just as quickly captured my pawn with his knight. No, wait a minute...that doesn’t describe it accurately. He actually kicked my pawn off the board with an evil laugh!! I watched it fall to the floor as he reminded me gleefully, “I told you so. You always have to think ahead. You have to stay one step ahead!”

I really did write that down along with all the other instructions he was spouting off knowingly.
“And you see this knight? It can move eight different ways…if it’s in the middle,” he told me. He spoke slowly and deliberately…like he was the one talking to a six-year-old. “Write this down,” he continued, “The…king..is…the…powerfullest…person. But you have to protect him at all times.”

Finally, though, he found himself in a tight spot and immediately reverted to six-year-old tactics. “Uh, sometimes your queen can jump over your men,” he lied. Six-year-olds do not like to lose and are not above cheating in order to win. I took that opportunity to suggest that we had played long enough and we would continue the battle another day. I made a mental note to get online and study the game a bit. This could be downright embarrassing. It’s one thing to let him win. It’s quite another to actually lose!!

He then moved to the computer to play a few video games while I got some chores done. He was willing to give lessons on that also.

But eventually, as with most six-year-olds, it comes to this when you finally make him stop playing…

I think I’ll stick to checkers and blogs…

?

2008-04-24T14:55:00.002-05:00

My recent favorite conversation with my daughter at my house:
"Hey, Mom, do you have any bottled water?"
"In the oven."
"You're so weird."

To Dallas with Delight

2008-04-23T12:54:00.006-05:00

Monday morning, Delight came by to pick me up for our trip to Dallas. I like trips with Delight because, in addition to the great company, I get to drive her latest luxury vehicle. Delight has had more than her share of trouble to bear in the last few years. Her most recent set of problems began with her lungs. They kept filling up with fluid and she would have them drained in order to breathe. At times, they would get as much as 1 ½ liters of fluid. No wonder she was short of breath!

Finally, they decided to do surgery to try and fix the lung problem. After the surgery was performed, she was forced to stay in the hospital with a chest tube inserted between her ribs until the drainage stopped. A chest tube is extremely painful and I think her nurses were a little stingy with the pain medication. Another note I make to myself of what NOT to do to a patient! Unfortunately, the drainage didn’t seem to be slowing down much and her stay continued for days until it was superseded by yet another catastrophe.

Her son Riley was driving to work and was involved in a serious crash. He was flown out of Garvin with a broken pelvis and femur. And as you can guess, when a mother hears news of her baby being injured, no matter how old he is, she is going to see him – no matter what! So they told the doctors that they were leaving – with or without permission – and were discharged to go see Riley in the hospital.

But we can’t stop there, of course. When Riley’s wife found out about the accident, she went into labor, having contractions on a regular basis. So while Riley was in one area of the hospital, she was in another trying to stop her labor.

They are both home now and the baby is still pending. Delight was hoping that little Ava Delight (don’t you just love that name??) would hold off on making her appearance until we returned from Dallas.

I did have quite a good laugh when Delight told me of her mother-in-law’s reaction to finding out about the crash involving her beloved grandson. After receiving the call, Johnice immediately hung up and told her husband, Theron, that they had to get to Millerton – right now- because Riley had been in an accident. Theron had one foot through his pants leg when he heard their car screeching around the corner as she raced toward Millerton without him. I guess he learned what she means when she says “right now”!

So after all the medical problems, the accident, and almost premature labor, we were hoping for a little good news on this occasion. Delight previously had several tumors treated with the gamma knife procedure, a form of intense, localized radiation. This was a follow-up appointment to see if the places on her brain had improved.

Delight’s attitude was very positive. She reminds me of another friend of mine, Rob01. When Rob came down from Canada to ride the HHH, he wanted to enter the Crit races, too. But when he went to sign up, the Cat 5 race was full. He was disappointed, but then he had an idea. He talked them into letting him race with the Cat 4 racers, even knowing that it would be a struggle and that the odds were against him.

He lined up for the race, and even smiled, knowing that he was about to get hammered. But he rode like crazy and never gave up until they finally pulled him (and several others) from the race after falling too far back. I admired him more for entering that Cat 4 race and losing than I ever would have been for an outright victory in the Cat 5. How easy is it to smile and work hard when things are easy? But what does it take to do the same when the odds are stacked against you? A lot of strength, determination, willpower, and courage. And Delight has all of those!

For our trips, TJ writes detailed instructions, telling us where to turn and the landmarks…everything short of painting arrows on the pavement. No, wait a minute…I did see arrows painted on the streets! Hmmm… very suspicious.

After a short shopping spree at Academy, we went to our hotel, watched TV, and lay around like two lumps on a log. I felt guilty, so I went to check out the exercise room. The exercise room was small and there were already two men in there, so I bought a bucket load of chocolate from the vending machine and went back to the room to hibernate. Neither of us got much sleep that night. Delight was experiencing quite a bit of pain at the site where the chest tube had been. I just missed my Man Pillow. I absolutely cannot sleep without it!

The next morning, we were off to the doctor’s office for the MRI. It went very quickly, for me at least. Then we were handed the films and drove to yet another doctor to read the results. When he walked in, I thought there had to be a mistake. He looked much too young to be a doctor, but he soon dispelled any doubt. He asked a few routine questions of Delight and we asked a few questions of him. For instance, should the chest tube site still be so sore? He said that it was normal for it to be tender for quite some time due to the nerves being damaged between the ribs. That eased our minds a bit.

Then he got down to business when he said, “Well, I’ve been looking at the results of your tests this morning…”
I found myself holding my breath and mentally preparing myself not to flinch. I can’t even imagine how nervous Delight was. But that’s the thing about Delight. You would never know that she ever had a negative thought.
“…and, of course these results aren’t official,” he continued, “I’m going to have our radiologist look at them too..”
More breath-holding…
“But I can’t see any sign of the tumors. Unless I’m just way off the mark, they are gone.”

WOW! That was relief! They were gone! We had been hoping for good news, but he gave us the best news we could get. I asked where his tip jar was, because I was leaving him a big tip! He grinned, congratulated Delight, and made another appointment for a follow-up in three months. Great news!

Soon we were sailing toward home, but first we had to get something to eat. And of course it had to be…that’s right, Kaye…PF Changs! Lettuce Rolls and Kung Pao Chicken! Even splitting the entrée, there was too much food. But my fat self managed to get most of it down!After all, it was a celebration! We received our fortunes and they seemed very appropriate! Delight’s was right on target with good news!And mine? Well, I guess I was feeling a little pessimistic…It seemed to say that I was heading “over the hill” and that it was “all downhill from here”. Of course Delight saw it differently.
“Isn’t downhill a good thing for a cyclist?”
And she was right!

So Delight, I hope it’s all downhill from here for you, from a cyclist’s point of view, that is. It's quite a ride!

Smart @$$ Friends...Who Needs 'em???

2008-04-23T08:22:00.002-05:00

Who needs 'em?

I, out of the goodness of my heart and thinking only of his health and hopeful longevity, sent my friend Jesse this link.

http://blog.bobavritt.com/?page_id=2

Surely, I thought, Zin's story would help to inspire him to ride his bike more often. But instead of his gratitude, I received this link in return!

http://www.vpul.upenn.edu/ohe/library/bodyimage/compulsive-exercise.htm

LOL!! Good thing I wasn't drinking anything at the time. I would have snorted it through my nose!! :)

Oak Mountain State Park, Alabama

2008-04-21T17:30:00.004-05:00

Back in January, I had the opportunity to go mountain biking with my friend, Sam, in Alabama. The trail was a 15 mile loop at Oak Mountain State Park. Being new to mountain biking, it really doesn’t mean much when I say that it’s the best trail I’ve ever ridden. But I can say that if I lived near a mountain bike trail like that, I would probably never turn a tire on pavement again! It was so wonderful!

Even as a beginner, I could ride almost the entire trail. There were only a couple of places where I got off my bike to walk through. One of those was a short section called Blood Rock. It is my fervent belief that anyone who stays mounted through an area named Blood Rock deserves to die a painful, rock-battered death! I would have loved to be sitting on the sidelines, though, when someone came through it successfully! That would be a sight to see.

The longest climb (none were very steep) consisted mostly of a wide, clear path. Just looking at it makes me want to pack up and go.

There were nice bridges where you needed them. We stopped near this one to take a photo of Sam’s new baby. He is definitely Mr. Specialized. I was surprised he would even let the tires roll in the dirt. And if he ever were to crash, I think he would fling himself down under his bike to save it from a scratch! And I don’t blame him!

Somewhere along the way, we met a couple out walking their dogs. Two very lively Dalmatians! We couldn’t make them be still for a photo.
If you ever make it to Oak Mountain, be sure to stop by and visit Thomas the Gnome.

He lives in a rock garden beside the trail. At the time we rode by, he had been joined by a female gnome. We didn’t catch her name, but they appeared to be very happy together.

After our ride, we drove around the area a bit. There were also dozens of roadies there too. Bicycles everywhere! And I was thankful that this sign was in Alabama instead of Oklahoma! We can maintain our illiteracy reputation quite well on our ‘on’, thank you very much!

Sometime during our stay, I took this photo of a peeping Tom through the tent mesh. Hmmm. He looks vaguely familiar! 
This is definitely a place I will return to. But next time, I will schedule a lot more time!

Fitton Cave...again?

2008-04-16T07:20:00.008-05:00

I recently received an email from RabidDawg:

Caving...

Be there or be square :)

Want to come? Can you make it? huh? huh? huh?

An invitation to another cave adventure? How could I pass that up? I ran to my calendar to check out the date. Oh, man! That was the weekend I’ll be taking the boys to Lawton for the BikeFest. I calculated, formulated, and evaluated the various ways that I could accomplish both. Other than cloning, I can’t see a way to do it. Rats!

Besides the geographical obstacles, I had to consider my frame of mind. After a weekend of the Slademan and Mama’s Boy (who will probably cry incessantly for Mama!), I will probably be in dire need of some mental relaxation.

But I do love that cave. You just can’t beat crawling around all day in a dimly lit, dusty space under the ground. Awesome! Brian introduced me to the cave several years ago. I knew that Teressa would love it, so I invited her, Aquilla, and Roy. Roy had to back out, but we went without him. I must note here that a party of six people is required to obtain a permit. Of course, we would never go against the rules. However, the rest of our party refused to sign my consent form or to be photographed. Therefore, I will ignore their presence from this moment on…
As I pulled out of my driveway, I noticed that the neighbor children had a sale table set up. So of course I had to buy something! They thought my camera was cool, so they had to take a picture of me too!We camped at the Caver’s Campground. Teressa and I constantly give Aquilla a hard time about her inability to live without modern conveniences. Sure enough, she was appalled at the thought of using the facilities at the campground. Actually, they were very nice, considering the remote location. She also drew fire from us when she suggested that we drive to Jasper so she could take a shower the next morning and apply her makeup before heading to the cave! We finally won the argument, though, and headed out on the trail. But somewhere along the way, she did manage to apply her makeup. The hike alone is worth the trip.
Soon we arrived at the entrance. We entered the cave, locked the gate behind us and began our descent. I had constructed a rope ladder for the 10 foot drop into the hole. Unfortunately, I had used my own measurements, forgetting the Teressa and Aquilla’s legs were a bit shorter. This caused a brief argument over who was more abnormal. Since I’m writing this, I win. They have abnormally short legs!

But we made it down fine and began exploring. There are so many cool things in this cave that my photos just can’t capture. We didn’t go as far into the cave as Brian took us, but we did explore deeper. At one point, we descended into a narrow gorge, then underneath the ledge to a beautiful little waterfall. The next time I go I really want to explore that section (21 Jumps) more thoroughly. Everything is more exciting with water, eh?And when the lights go out, it is complete darkness and profound silence. It can be a bit scary!
Another friendly competition we engaged in was to see who could be the centerfold for Caver's Monthly Magazine. Again, since I am the author, I believe that I was far and above the best candidate.
Although I had some stiff competition!
There are some tight squeezes….
And the formations are awesomely beautiful…
This area reminds me of Tinkerbell and fairies. It's a magical place!
Some of the areas require you to crawl on hands and knees for quite a distance. Kneepads are a must. At some point, you will inevitably get the opportunity to test your helmet! Ouch!
But there are also some huge rooms, too. You need at least one very bright halogen light to see into the recesses.
The trip back up the ladder was the hardest part - for those people with abnormally short legs. But we finally ascended and made it safely back to the entrance.Just looking at these photos is making me rethink my decision. There must be a way!! I think I’ll recharge my lights….just in case!

The Kansas Kyle Photo

2008-04-02T15:05:00.005-05:00

I may have mentioned before that I use my photos as a screensaver. It provide many moments of entertainment. There are times when a photo pops up that actually makes me laugh out loud. In fact, there are many of those, and some are on trips I have yet to write about. There is one group photo from FreeWheel 2005 that always makes me giggle.

At first glance, it may seem like an ordinary group photo. An obligatory shot of the group at the end of a week’s ride, posing at the Kansas state line. But there’s a story behind this particular photo.

In 2005, we had a rather large group join forces for the Oklahoma cross-state ride. Any time that you get such a large group together, the social dynamics go just a little haywire. So along the way, there were the usual moments of bickering and misunderstandings. But after a week of riding in the sun, a portion of us reached the state line together.

I had invited Kyle to join us on the ride that year knowing, rightly so, that he would fit right in with this group of friends. He and I planned to travel to Canada upon finishing to ride with my Canadian friends, specifically the ‘Going to the Sun Road’.

Kyle and I have been friends since meeting in 2002, so I was happy to have him along as we crossed the Kansas border on this bright, sunny day. Amid the usual chaos, we began to assemble for the photograph. Erica, Kin, and several others climbed to the top, while the rest of began lining up below. After much direction from other friendly cyclists, who offered to take the photo for us, we were almost ready to begin photographing. There were the typical misfires. You can see Kyle here in the ‘pre-photo’ (standing, third from right). You can barely see my arm peeking out from behind him. After this shot, he walked over the the photographer, giving more instructions, then came to stand directly in front of me again. I mean directly in front - almost blocking me completely from the camera! Surely, he’s not going to stay there for the real photo, I thought. But he did!

As the photographer changed cameras, Kyle walked away yet again. And, for the third time, came back to casually and effectively block me from the photo! Three times he did this! What was I…invisible?

By now I was incensed. you can see that I have my hands on my hips, elbows peeking out from each side. I was furious! You can almost see the smoke rising from behind him. And yet, he is oblivious. I didn’t say a word about it. I just got back on my bike and pedaled the short distance to the next rest stop in silence. I still can’t tell you why it inflamed me so, but I was on fire! I almost threw my bike down, grabbed something to drink, and marched back to pick up my bike, still silent. Only Scott seemed to notice. He asked if something was wrong, but I was still too angry to talk about it, so I just said, “I’m ready to ride…really ride!”

It is a well-know fact that Scott loves to hammer. So he immediately agreed, “Let’s go!” I jumped on my bike and sprinted off in a fury. It’s the only time I think I’ve ever dropped Scott, but he would later say, “I couldn’t catch you!” I must have gotten a good jump on him right off the start.

When I noticed that he wasn’t with me, I assumed that he had decided to stay with the group. So I put my head down and hammered on alone. The wind was with me and it was a hard, fast solo finish. I arrived feeling stronger than ever.

Soon afterward, a young man rode up and came to a stop beside me.
“I’ve been chasing you since that last rest stop about ten miles back,” he declared. “You’ve been flying! Who do you ride with?” I didn't bother to inform him that I almost never rode that hard, especially without a wheel in front of me! I think he was from Stillwater, so I told him about the group there and even introduced him to Scott and others when they arrived. Kyle arrived, still oblivious to my anger, and posed for this photo. Note how he gives his new friends, Chris and Bryan, ample room for the photo op? But of course, it didn’t take me long to get over the unintended slight and Kyle apologized profusely, stating that it was not intentional, of course. And now, every time I see that group, I have to laugh, remembering my very angry finish to a great week!

Here I Go Again....

2008-04-02T13:51:00.003-05:00

A few months ago, I took Dumpster to Little River, just outside of town for a little variety. I’m sure it gets boring in the back yard, but the weather was too bad to take him for a long walk. So I decided to bundle up, drive to the river, and let him run up and down the bank, exploring new smells and places.

A short, narrow dirt road leads down to a makeshift parking area under the old Broken Bow highway bridge. This place, unfortunately, has become a dumping ground for some people. Why people feel the need to dump garbage today remains a mystery to me. We now have too many resources available, including the Green Boxes for the rural population (but that's a story for another day).

Anyway, after an hour or two, we loaded up and began the drive out. As we passed a large tree, I noticed a tarp lying neatly on the ground nearby. Side by side on the tarp lay two small puppies, probably less than a year old. They were huddled together as if trying to stay warm, their ribcages fully visible on their lifeless, emaciated bodies. How long they had been dead, from starvation or exposure, I don’t know.

Our local newspaper, The McCurtain Gazette, publishes ‘photos of the day’ in every edition. These are photos that subscribers send in, usually of happy children, beloved pets, and the occasional wildlife or scenery photo. I had to wrestle with myself not to go back, take a photo of those dead puppies and submit it as my photo of the day. Just a friendly little reality check. If I were in my current blogging frenzy, I probably would have. But I eventually convinced myself that it was too late to do anything in that case and to just let it go. After all, I don’t want to give anyone the impression that I’m becoming a rabid tree-hugging, animal-loving feminist…do I? You can’t rain on everyone’s parade!

But recently this subject has been brought to light again. On the front page of a recent Gazette edition was a photo of a dog, chained to a tree, balanced precariously on his own food dish amid a sea of mud, in a futile attempt to keep dry. There was no shelter of any kind in sight. But what was more upsetting than the photo itself was the fact that a reader had submitted it as the ‘photo of the day’! She thought it was ‘cute’. And what’s even worse? Obviously, the staff at the newspaper thought so, too!
I was all prepared to fire off my first “Letter to the Editor”. But the next day, someone had already beaten me to the punch. And now I’m wishing that I had taken my own “Photo of the Day” and submitted. I would not only rain on their parade, I would include thunder, lightning, and strong winds! LOL! Maybe the next time I will, because sadly, I’m sure there will be ample opportunities in the future.

Dogs and cats are dependent animals. They depend on humans for food and shelter. You can’t ignore generations of domesticity, throw them out in the woods, and expect them to survive? They don’t know how anymore. Hence the term “domesticated”! Nothing makes me angrier than to hear of people dumping animals like so much garbage! And while thousands of animals are being thrown away due to negligence and ignorance, an opposing injustice is taking place: Breeding ‘pure’ animals for sale.

I know many people who have purchased and bred animals for sale. But why do we need to do this? There are so many animals that need homes. Great animals. What are we, a nation of animal Nazis, that we must have only ‘pure’ pets? Come on! Let’s let go of our pet snobbery and take of the ones that are already out there in need. Don’t encourage breeding by purchasing those animals!

Our local organization, the Animal Rescue and Kare (ARK), have been doing a great job of confronting animal abuse in this county. But they appear to be under-funded, overworked, understaffed, and overwhelmed.

As a cyclist, I encounter dogs on every ride. I love to see them fenced. And while I appreciate not being chased, I detest seeing them chained. That is no way to live, even for an animal! The ones that do give chase probably are hit by a car in the near future, only to be ‘replaced’ by yet another disposable creature. In my mind, it’s almost the same as letting your toddler roam about freely next to the highway. Can you realistically expect a different outcome?

The reader that sent in the pathetic “photo of the day” is now probably more than aware of the importance of providing shelter and some quality of life for her animal. It is unfortunate that it had to happen in such a negative way. We need to provide more prominent, positive information to the public regarding this issue.

I am currently seeking a new home for Dumpster because I feel that I cannot give him the attention he needs and deserves. As I’ve said before, I’ve never felt the need to have an animal as a pet. But I cannot stand idly by and watch them being mistreated or neglected. I hope that everyone reading this will understand and help spread awareness of this issue when the opportunity arises. Let's become a part of the solution.

OK, I’m getting off my soapbox now….

My, My, My!

2008-04-01T15:49:00.008-05:00

As Slade said just a few days ago (while Shaina and I were looking at his baby photos), "Ah, where do the years go?" Poor Slade. Lately he's been getting a little competition. Baby brother is coming up fast and furious with new ideas! A fresh face!!

It seems like just yesterday we were hiking the Havasu Trail! (April, 2007) And I'm just now publishing it on my blog? Yikes, but I am so far behind. A whole year!

Denise must have felt the laughter vibes all the way to Arizona, because I recieved this photo via email a short time ago. It's a bike that Toby rescued from the bottom of the lake. Don't even ask me why Toby is trolling the bottom of the lake, we probably don't want to know!

But wait...there's something wrong with this photo. What could it be? Oh yeah, there's nobody riding it!

Where's the rider, Denise? You know, a bike is only as good as its rider. Toby should know better than this! (And besides - you promised that a half-nekkid Toby would be the rider - didn't you? You promised!)

It's a nice bike, though. Around here, people have actually replaced the used toilets as front-yard flower beds with old bikes like this one! You could fetch a pretty good price for that old hunk of junk around here!

It rained last night, so the air is fresh today. It's still a little cold, though, so no cycling. I think I'll take Dumpster for a walk. I've found homes for the other two dogs (Blue and Goldie), but I'm still looking for Dumpster's new home. That's right, Johnny D! I just can't keep him with all the traveling I do. I feel too guilty when I come home after a week and he's just sitting there in the doghouse, listless. I'm getting together an ad for KLOP. Roy said that's the way to go and I always do what Roy says! LOL!! But last chance for a new dog, guys. He comes with accessories, including a doghouse and leash!

He can fetch, and roll over, and heel!! Does anybody know anyone?

Come on! Someone knows somebody!!!

Anyway, enough for now. We'll have to ease back into this blogging thing. I don't want to overload you.

Drug-Induced Retrospection

2008-03-29T23:27:00.002-05:00

Sorry it took so long, but I am finally posting this photo per request from Cin-Cin (my bestest friend) and the other tellers at the INB…the photo of Michael, Shaina, Slade, and (soon-to-be-born) Cayman.

Ah, life was so much easier then. ..

***

I received a frantic call from Shaina on Thursday night concerning our newest little addition, now 20 months old. While playing with Dad, he ran into the brick fireplace (and no, Michael…it was not your fault!) which entitled him to a complementary visit to the local ER. There I played many rounds of “Be Right Back!” This game involved walking him around the first floor of the hospital, through several doors, pushing an elevator button along the way each time, and returning to our starting point. After an interminably lengthy wait (as every wait is when a toddler is involved), he was rewarded by being wrapped in a sheet, held down by Mom, Nanny, and Nurse Ashley while Dr. Mig put three stitches next to his eye. Ouch!

But today began wonderfully. I awoke to the alarm at 5 a.m. sharp, full of vim and vigor and more ready than usual to face the day. I was scheduled to work both Saturday and Sunday day shifts. I would actually be working an entire three-day work week. Wow! I was impressed with myself.

I arrived feeling almost too good to be true. After enjoying a visit with several of the patients on the hall, I began to pass meds. But things began to go terrible wrong at this point. A strange feeling in my head and ears worsened until every movement caused a wave of dizziness followed immediately by an aftermath of nausea.

I tried eating to curb the nausea and that helped a bit. A trip to Raney Drugstore netted me some meclizine, which may have helped some. But the dizziness continued. Finally, around 2 p.m., I was forced to give up and go home. On my way out, I happened upon the same Dr. Mig, rummaging through drawers at the third floor nurses’ station. After listening to my symptoms, he declared me unfit to live. OK, maybe not quite that bad. “50 mgs of meclizine every 8 hours”, he suggested while he continued to rummage through the drawers. I still don’t know what he was looking for.

I made my miserable way home. Shaina brought my requested food by, which I snatched from her hand at the door, replacing it with a check. And now here I sit, very still, on the couch, eating Shrimp Fried Rice and chocolate ice cream. Darn! Until this very moment, I was doing great on my diet…REALLY!! But I guess I can use this time to catch up on some blogging, eh? (My thanks again to my Canadian friends for the ‘eh’…how did I ever live without it, eh?) So…where to start…where to start…

***

Perhaps you remember my recent bout with the feminism bug? Well, I’ve suffered a slight relapse. During my recent travels, which I will write about some day, I frequented a local restaurant whose décor was monopolized by sports photos on the walls. Everywhere you looked there were action photos covering every inch of available wall space. All of men. Where were the women, I asked myself? Were there no worthy women athletes? Why were they not acknowledged?

But wait…there were two or three photos of women…

…all as cute, fluffy cheerleaders!!!

WHAT THE HECK IS GOING ON AROUND HERE??? Let me forewarn all businesses who request your suggestions and display their website address…you may hear from some of us! I made my suggestion.

I’m still awaiting a reply.

***

I am bored, sitting here…I’m high on dramamine…

***

BTW, the best song to load on your iPod and listen to while riding your road bike? A song I dedicate to "mah boys"...Go Faster by the Black Crowes…

You cant stop
Or I might pass you
If you slow down
I will outlast you
But when you’re down
You wont find me laughing
And just one question I might ask you
And It might sound like a disaster
But can you make this thing…go…faster?

***

I was watching some of my favorite videos this evening. I think Sheryl Crow will always be my favorite artist. She speaks to me (much like Dave Matthews) and we seem to share so many life experiences….except that, unlike me, she is beautiful… and rich…and famous…and talented….OK, so we’re nothing alike! I still enjoy her music. It’s what I would write and sing…if I could write…or sing.

Anyway, for those unfamiliar with her work, check out these two videos on You Tube. The first one is an older video entitled, Home. Through the years, Clinton (ex) and I have remained good friends. He is one of the people I know I could always count on and I hope he thinks the same of me. I will always love him. How could I not? He is a wonderful person. So people often inquire, “If you get along that well, why aren’t you still married?” This video answers that question much more eloquently than I could ever hope to. It succinctly (to me) conveys that feeling that I once had of being ‘out of place’ in my own life. Sort of like where you wake up one day and ask, “What the heck am I doing here?” The video portrays a world, ugly and beautiful and loved. She is obviously not a true part of this world, though, and is thinking about broader horizens.

If you know me today, you must take into consideration the fact that I have lived my entire life in McCurtain County, OK. I was raised on Hootenannies, smoked for 25 years, was once married to an alcoholic truck driver (pre-Clinton era), owned and rode a Harley, reluctantly attended Rod Runs, and even owned a bass boat at one point. Eventually, almost unexpectedly to both of us, I left one day…not long after the children. Empty nest syndrome? Mid-life crisis? Who knows? Sheryl once wrote in another song of “being a stranger in my own life” and that was true of me. But several lines of Home, in particular, resonate with meaning for me:

“Everything I wanted [stability, love, respect?] is now driving me away…
I awoke this morning to the sound of breaking hearts
Mine is full of questions and its tearing yours apart…tearing us apart”

Ok, enough introspection! The other video that I really like is a short, poignant song called, God Bless This Mess. Check it out. There’s just something about it that really touches me and brings tears to my eyes every time.

***

Sordid Lives is one of the funniest movies I’ve ever seen…(strong language, some nudity, gets a little raunchy toward the end) I never picked out Olivia Newton-John as Bitsy, but I think one of the sisters played in Fried Green Tomatoes.

***
Spring has sprung. I mowed the lawn for the first time of the season this week. Slade came inside one day carrying two yellow dandelion flowers; one for me, one for Mom.

The first one had only a hint of a stem. He handed it to Mom, stating, “This one is for you. It has a shorter stem because you are younger.”
Then he turned to me. “And yours has a longer one because you’re older.” My stem dragged along the floor as he carried it toward me. Did he have to pull it out by the roots? And do dandelions really grow that tall?
“Gee, thanks,” I said.
Sarcasm is wasted on him.

Later we are alone in the house. I pass through the room where he is engaged in a video game battle and I hear him say, without looking up, "Hey, Tammy...."

I stop and look at him. "What?"

He looks back at me. "What?"

"Didn't you just say 'Hey Tammy,'" I ask him.

"Yeah."

"So what did you want to say?"

He cocks his head to one side, holds his hand out, palm up, to explain. "When I say, 'Hey Tammy', that just means Hello. You know, like Hello, Tammy"

"Oh, so you're just saying hello?"

"Yes." As I began to walk away, I hear him say it again. "Hey, Tammy..."

"Hello, Slade", I throw back over my shoulder as I leave the room. But he calls me back.

"That time I wanted to tell you something," he said. "When I just say 'Hey Tammy' and my hands are down, it just means hello. But when I say 'Hey Tammy' and do this (he holds up an index finger), it means that I'm thinking of the rest of the sentence. OK?"

Wow, I never knew a simple conversation could have so many rules and regulations. So hey guys...

(I am holding up my index finger)

...it is difficult to type with one hand.

***

I need more drugs…and sleep.

Feminism and Communism

2008-03-10T18:20:00.014-05:00

I’ve begun working out regularly, alternating between my favorite activities: hiking, mountain biking, road biking, and light weight workouts. I’ve recently added a touch of Pilates yoga to my routine also. I am determined to drop that extra ten pounds this summer. I mean it! No, really!

I’ve also been compliant with my asthma medication routine after an inspiring meeting with Stillwater cyclist, Dr. Mike Kelly, on a ride this winter. Ever in denial mode, I was without my inhaler…again. Feeling the effects of an oncoming attack, I asked the burning question to a small crowd outside the lunch stop building, “Does anyone here have asthma?”

I was surprised when the affirmative answer came from Mike. That can’t be right, I thought. Mike is a sports superman. He kicks gluteous maximus on a regular basis! After borrowing a couple of doses from his inhaler and gathering some tips about controlling my asthma, I was ready to ride again. I figure if he can ride like he does with asthma, there may be a chance for me!

After all, cycling season is coming on fast. My mailbox is routinely stuffed with information about upcoming rides this spring and summer. The latest pamphlet came just this morning. I had been on the computer all day, working on one of my class papers. After learning that I could get an extension (until April 15th), I took advantage of that offer and was happy to take a break from schoolwork and dream of attending a cycling event.

This particular invitation came from Lawton, OK. The event is the ‘Tour of the Wichitas’ on May 3. It’s a 40-50-60 mile ride through Ft. Sill and the Wichita Mountains. I’ve been hiking and biking in that area many times. Each time I go, I love it a little more. I eagerly read the brochure, taking note of the date, and checked my calendar. It is a well-known fact that if an event is not written on my calendar….that day will be double-booked. Sure enough, I already had promised the preceding day to Shaina. I had agreed to baby-sit both boys while she and Michael spent some quality time out together. There was no way I could get to Lawton to ride in time. Darn it!

But then I saw a possible solution. Included in the festivities is something called ‘Synergy in Motion Bike Festival’ at the Museum of the Great Plains. I could kill two birds with one stone: I could take the boys with me to Lawton to the bike festival! It wouldn’t be the same as riding, but it was better than nothing! Maybe it would even inspire the Slademan to ride his own bike. I’ve tried everything else, from bribery to abandonment. Bribery didn’t work. He has so much stuff already, there’s not much left to offer. The opportunity to use abandonment came about when he discovered my mountain bike on the car and asked if he could go with me.
“There are no tag-alongs in mountain biking!” I told him cheerily, “When you can ride your own bike, I’ll take you mountain biking.” I got in my car and drove away.
He didn’t even flinch.

So who know? Maybe seeing the other kids (ages 5-12) in the individual time trial, the trick bike competition, and mountain bike barrel racing events will trigger a desire for cycling independence. Don’t get me wrong. I love to take him on the tag-along. In fact, I plan to do half of FreeWheel with him this summer. But it’s time to cut the cord….or top tube in this case.

But as I read the brochure, an outraged “WHAT?!” escaped my lips. For those who didn’t receive the invitation, I will quote:

“While dad is on his bike ride, we will be having an all day event at the museum for mom and the kids…”

Let’s read that again.

While dad is on his bike ride, we will be having an all day event for mom and the kids…

Now, maybe I’ve had my nose in a book far too long now. Am I becoming too sensitive?

For example, last night, instead of relaxing for an hour, I spent my time on the internet researching information about the 1989 Tiananmen Square Massacre. Recently, while Sam H. and I were watching a video, the image of the “tank man” filled the screen. It has been almost twenty years and he didn’t remember the incident. Of course, he was only 13 years old at the time…

But I got sidetracked with that story and the fact that Google, the God of Information in our world, helps to censor information for the government in China. When citizens there ‘google’ Tiananmen Square, they are presented only with general information concerning architecture, etc. University students in China today have no knowledge of the events of 1989. Can you imagine students at Kent State today saying, “What?! You mean there were shootings…here at the school?” Here in the U.S., I can even “google” Google and come up with their role in China! Plus, I'm writing this on a Google website. Ironic, eh?

So maybe reading about those much larger issues planted a seed of rebellion in me. I mean, come on, it was only one line in a bicycle tour brochure! But the more I read it, the more it bothered me.

The contact number listed was one of the sponsors, Terry’s Bicycles in Lawton. That particular bike shop has a great reputation and does a lot of good work. But who knows? I could also see a group of arrogant men, laughing as they read the brochure, snickering, "Do you think they'll even notice?" I dialed the number and a male voice answered.

“Terry’s Bicycles, may I help you?”
“I hope so,” I stated calmly, “First, do you have any female employees?” I thought that perhaps it had already been brought to their attention.
“Uh…..no we don’t.”
I explained my concern to him about the wording in the brochure.
“It implies that the ride is limited to men,” I informed him.
“Uh, …well….we don’t have anything to do with the brochure,” he assured me, “That would be the museum….”
“All right, then, thanks, I’ll call them!” I told him politely and hung up, leaving him to probably envision hundreds of rabid feminist cyclists converging in the shop parking lot, waving protest signs and burning their sports bras.

I looked up the website for the Museum of the Great Plains. Very impressive. I called the Office Assistant number and a young lady answered.
“Who do I speak to about the brochure printed for the Tour of the Wichitas?” I asked her.
There was a pause and then, “Why….what’s wrong with it?”
“Well, first of all, let me say that I just visited your website and it’s great! I plan to bring my grandsons there during the bike festival if I can. But being a female cyclist,” I added, “I couldn’t help but notice the wording in your brochure. I know it’s too late to rectify it this year, but for next year, they might want to reword one of the sentences.”
“Well, I have a brochure right here,” she said, “Which sentence is it?”
“Read the first line in the Bike Festival section,” I said.

A pause while she opened the document and found the section. Then I heard her quietly reading, “While dad is on his….,” She paused for a minute while she silently read the rest of the sentence. Then she began again. “While dad is on his…” More silence. Then, “Oh my gosh, that sounds like we don’t let women ride!” she exclaimed.
“Or that we’re incapable of riding…” I added.
She assured me that it would be printed differently next year.
I thanked her, said goodbye, and hung up.

Ah, mission accomplished.

Now, does anyone have the phone number for Google and the Chinese Government?

Hello Kitty!

2008-02-07T09:23:00.009-06:00

I recently took the Slademan by McDonald’s to grab a little lunch. We chose the drive-thru since we were in a bit of a hurry.

He studied the menu and finally decided on, wonder of all wonders, a happy meal! What child can resist the latest, brightly colored plastic toy surrounded by mediocre food…drink included! Entertainment and sustenance combined! Even I will grudgingly admit that it’s the most enticing marketing ploy set into action since God endowed women with breasts. But I digress.

Finally we heard those magic words.

“Welcome to McDonalds. May I take your order?”
“Yes, we want a Happy Meal…cheeseburger, plain…with apples…and a..,” I began.
“Wait a minute,” Slade interrupted, holding up a hand. Then he whispered, “Can we get a girl toy?”

I paused momentarily, waiting for hidden, hateful homophobic feelings to explode to the surface. Should I consider screeching out of the parking lot and drive straight to Wal Mart to outfit him entirely in camouflage and put a rifle in his hands, screaming all the way, “Hell no, boy! Yer gunna play with one of them thur boy toys and yer gonna like it!”?

I thought it over for a second. As a child, I had played with trucks, built tree houses, and had fistfights with my brother. What if my parents had told me, out of deep-rooted prejudicial fear, that I was not allowed to play rough and could only play with dolls and be sweet? I would not have been happy at all, to say the least.

So I finished the order, requesting a girl’s toy, and we sat in line.

I waited for an explanation.

None was forthcoming.

He just sat there with a silly, little smirk on his face. And, maybe it was my imagination, but didn’t he look just a little…feminine today? I shook myself mentally. No, you’re letting your imagination run away with you. He wouldn’t come out of the closet at six, would he?

Finally, he spoke. “Let’s not tell her that it’s for me, OK?” Oh, goody! He was staying in the closet...making my life easier! I may not have to deal with this for years...maybe never!
“Well, we can tell her that it’s for…your sister at home?” I suggested.
He grinned, “O.K.”

We arrived at the window and I saw the poster advertising the latest toys. For girls, it was Hello Kitty lip gloss with a flip-up mirror! He could hardly contain himself. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see him almost wiggling in anticipation.

The girl at the window took my money and turned back to the register.
“Tell her, tell her,” he urged me.
I looked up at the girl. “Um, excuse me. That happy meal is not for him,” I informed her, pointing at the Slademan. “You see, it’s for his sister. She’s at home and we’re taking this to her.”

“How nice.” She looked at me like I had lost my mind, but cheerfully handed out the prized happy meal. As we pulled forward, Slade began digging into the box. Finally he pulled forth the object of his desire, the Holy Grail of Happy Meals, a Hello Kitty Lip Gloss with Flip-Up Mirror!!
He worked furiously to free it from its plastic confinement and then held it wondrously up to the light to inspect it. I watched as he turned it over and opened it to examine the lip gloss inside.

“It even has a mirror!” he exclaimed happily.

At this point, I could see the future. His first book would be entitled, How My Nanny Tammy "Turned" Me Gay In One Day! After appearances on Maury and Jerry Springer, the entire county would disown me. Dr. Phil would pronounce me an id-jit and my world would never be the same again.

“Here, Tammy,” Slade’s voice brought me out of my reverie, “This is for you!” He held out the Hello Kitty Lip Gloss. “You always say that your lips are chapped so now you can keep this with you and you will have something to put on them all the time.” He smiled proudly as I wiped the sweat from my upper lip with a shaking hand and accepted his gift.

I'm thankful now that I didn't use this opportunity to plant a small seed of hatred. And now I keep it next to my bed and make a special effort to use it when he comes over. And I think I’ll carry it with me the next time he wants to see a movie together. And if he chooses something along the line of Beaches or Terms of Endearment, that will be OK with me!

Besides, I think it will go nicely with the Wilma Flintstone necklace and earrings that he won for me on the Toy Claw Arcade Machine (which proved, once and for all, that I was wrong, it is not a ripoff, and you can sometimes win!).

A Cyclist's Nightmare!

2008-02-05T14:16:00.002-06:00

A few nights ago, I had the worst dream ever. Although many on you may sympathize with this nightmare, it can only be fully appreciated by my cycling friends. I welcome any and all interpretations.

Most of my dreams are colorful, convoluted adventures with many details. This particular dream had many chapters, but one in particular was bad enough to wake me up to a cold sweat, as opposed to the usual hot flash!

At one point, I seemed to be in some kind of race. I was standing in a creek. The water was very clean and clear. It ran over a bed of beautiful, round, blue-green stones. But I was carrying my road bike on my shoulders. I needed some place to stash it for safekeeping since I had to travel up this stream.

Enter the 'factory'. For some reason, I decided the best place to leave my precious was with a group of burly, grimy men working at a nearby factory. For some reason, I just knew they would look after it.I don't remember any more events of the dream until I returned for my bike. This is where the real nightmare began!

The "good ol' boys" had decided to play a little joke on me. They disassembled my bike and the parts were everywhere! They had used my frame to make a coffee table! Yes, that's right. My frame was upside down with a wooden table top attached to it!

With the help of a friend (maybe Scott or Roy?), we managed to separate my frame from the tabletop. That's when I noticed that they had carved graffiti all over the top tube! Carved...into the frame!!!!

We finally managed to locate my wheels, but the tires had been removed and the tubes had been damaged during the process. But the most frustrating thing of all is that they couldn't understand why I was so upset.

They kept repeating, "It's just a bike! It's just a bike!"

This was truly a cyclist's worst nightmare!

Mr. Owl...

2007-10-30T22:40:00.001-05:00

Rim 2 Rim 2007 001, originally uploaded by Talimena Tammy.

...how many licks does it take to get to the Tootsie Roll center of a Tootsie Pop?

Crocodile Tears

2007-10-26T22:15:00.000-05:00

I went to pick the Slademan up from school recently. As he climbed into the car, I asked him the usual question, “How was school today?”

He frowned and said, “I got into trouble today.”
“In trouble! I don’t believe it!” I cried.
He looked up at me, eyes twinkling, and confided, “Yeah, but I cried my way out of it.”
“What do you mean you ‘cried your way out of it’? What happened?”

He took a deep breath and began. “Well, I was talking in class, and we’re not allowed to talk in class, and Mrs. Brinkley said that I had to stay in at recess. So all my friends went out to recess so I just cried and cried and cried and I just kept on crying and then Mrs. Brinkley asked, “Did I hurt your feelings?” And I said ‘yes’, because it really did hurt my feelings to be losing my recess and so she just said, “OK, you can go outside.”
“And she let you go…just like that?” I asked, incredulous.
“Yeah,” he said, grinning, “She’s real easy to fool like that.”
“So you were just fooling her? That’s not a very nice thing to do, you know.” I lectured sternly.
“But I really was sad at losing my recess,” he assured me solemnly. “It’s my favorite time!”

Note to self: In the future, ignore all tears from the Slademan, no matter how real they may seem at the time…

Report Card

2007-10-26T21:45:00.003-05:00

A portion of Slade's latest report card...

Home Again

2007-10-19T06:22:00.000-05:00

I've managed to make it home safely from the wild Grand Canyon National Park. And I'm still in one piece, unless you count that one toenail that is threatening to defect. And do I have stories to tell...unless the bribe money starts rolling in! :)

The GC photos are posted to Flickr and I hope to get the videos posted to Photobucket tonight.

Hope everyone is having a great summer!

In The Mail That Came Today...

2007-10-09T23:25:00.001-05:00

Triple, originally uploaded by Talimena Tammy.

Ok, it wasn't today. It was actually several days ago, but I just love it. A photo of Kin and me riding up Loveland Pass. What beautiful scenery. Thanks for the photo, Kin!

Cool Breezes are Blowing...

2007-09-13T16:51:00.000-05:00

...and I'm getting in the mood...no, not that mood. Just the mood to write. I have a new photo account with Flickr and I've just uploaded the Enchanted Circle Century ride to that website. Try out the link (right) and let me know if it works!

Congratulations!

2007-07-31T12:11:00.001-05:00

I must send a quick Congrats out to my friend, Tom, of the Dallas area. He recently won the Texas State Road Race (cat 65+). I recieved this email from my oh-so-humble friend...

I won the road race for the 65+ at Tyler this past weekend. I am the CHAMPIOOOOOONNNN !!!!

Have fun in France (again!!) and remember me next summer...I may be begging to tag along!!!

Apologies and Promises

2007-07-29T12:14:00.000-05:00

Lately I’ve been living with a nagging feeling of guilt. It seems to increase every time I look at my computer. I picture you, my lonely fan, eagerly awaiting the next exciting story to be posted to my blog. Then I picture you with tear-filled eyes when you log on, see the title “Hello Everybody” staring back at you and you realize, with great disappointment, that I still haven’t posted. What the heck can I be up to, you wonder?

The story above is entirely fictional, of course, but the truth is that I have many, many stories to write. I take notes when I return from a trip for that very purpose. But, in order to write, I have to be willing to sit down for an extended period, sort through my photos, and reminisce. I have enough stories to keep us busy through the winter months. But right now the sun is shining and I could be outside riding my bike, hiking, or hanging out with the Slademan.

So here’s the thing. In order to alleviate my guilt, I’m making a promise. Just like your typical TV show, I’ll be starting a new season in the fall. When the first cold, drizzly day begins, I’ll sit down and begin writing about my summer adventures and the great people I’ve met this year (and there have been a few!).

So feel free to check in occasionally until then. Sometimes a short story, such as “Slade Scissorhands”, will come along and I just have to jot it down. But don’t expect too much until much later in the year.

Until then…Everyone Have A Great Summer!!!

Hello Everybody!!!

2007-07-10T10:14:00.000-05:00

OK, I was posting backwards for a while. But now it seems that I can't post forward or backward! But I'm still here!!

I still haven't written up my Havasu Falls trip, but the photos are posted on Photobucket...along with a few videos.

Since then I've been to Mississippi once or twice, back to the cave in Arkansas (a girls only trip), rode a Talimena Double Cross with Kin, had a visit from Sam, and experienced a few more Slademan episodes. But I just don't have time to write about any of them yet. It's summertime, kids! Time to play outside! :)

I'm leaving in a few days, heading to Colorado to ride the Triple Bypass with some great people. So, another story for another day.

Also, remember that J-O-B that I now have? Well, this may come as a surprise, but there is a severe shortage of nurses! Therefore, I've been offered as much overtime as I want the last few weeks. So tonight will be my 7th straight night in a row! Whew! But it will pay for my trip to Colorado.

And I MUST get to Colorado because I've been promised....I said, PROMISED a cabin with a hot tub.

I said PROMISED!

When I return, I'll try to start writing again. OK, maybe after my New Mexico backpacking trip with the Slademan. That ought to be quite the trip. I had a quick breakfast with him this morning and, as usual, he ordered a diet coke. When I informed him that it was highly unusual for kids to be fond of diet drinks, he replied, "Well, I'm not like other kids." Hmmm. Really?

Oh, by the way. Did I ever tell you that my dog, Bob, is now named Blue? Apparently, Bob is a girl!

I'll check in soon!!!

Backwards

2007-05-31T15:14:00.001-05:00

I'm posting backwards, I suppose. I've just added Slade Scissorhands and Dog Day Afternoon, so you'll have to go back to read them. I'll let you know when I post the Grand Canyon trip...

Slade Scissorhands

2007-05-31T10:28:00.006-05:00

Slade believes that he should live with me since school is out for the summer. So, as usual, he called me up and asked if he could spend the night again.
“Sure!” I told him, “Come on over.”

He wanted to bring a neighborhood playmate with him. “I told him that my Nanny’s house is the best!” he exclaimed. It took a while to talk him out of that idea, but eventually I won the argument.

He arrived with Mom and Cayman. After a short visit, they left and we were on our own. The first item on the agenda was, of course, to see if Spongebob was on. He as, and we watched his adventures in Bikini Bottom. To make the event even more enjoyable, I brought out two popsicles. I cut them open and laid the scissors on the coffee table.

“OOH! Can I cut something? Can I?” He was almost jumping up and down in excitement.
“Well, I suppose you can…”
“All right!” Now he really was jumping up and down! “My mama NEVER lets me cut with scissors!”
“Well, I don’t see any harm. After all, I’ll be right here.” That statement affirms the fact that no matter how much you think you know, there is always more to learn.

So he went to work on blank sheets of paper. He cut out houses. He cut trees. He cut people. Soon he had an entire village made of white paper. But he wasn’t quite satisfied.

“What else can I cut?”

Not realizing that I was unwittingly fueling an ongoing addiction, I found an assortment of differently-textured items for him to cut. Soon, though, it was time for bed. I was exhausted!

As usual, we pulled out the sofa bed in the playroom and settled in to watch Nick@Nite, one of his favorites. But, after working all night and being up most of the day, it wasn’t long before I was oblivious to everything.

I don’t know exactly how much later it was. It could have been minutes or perhaps even hours. But I was awakened by the unmistakable sound of scissors cutting through hair. The sound was nearby. Very near!

I rolled over, confused, to find Slade sitting there holding the scissors in one hand. The other hand was behind his back.
“What the…?” I stammered, “What’s going on here?”
His guilty look spoke volumes.
“What’s behind your back?!” I screeched. He calmly held up a long tress of brown hair. “Um, it’s just a little of your hair. I cut it for you. It was getting a little long and shaggy”, he explained matter-of-factly.

“Holy Cow, I can’t believe you did that!” I ranted. I grabbed the hair from his hand and snatched up the scissors. I went on a wild rant for several minutes about issues like responsibility...Exercising control...Violation of privacy...Global warming...The War in Iraq…

Eventually, I regained my senses and calmed down.
“Just get back in bed and don’t EVER let me catch you with these scissors again…”

This morning I woke up when Slade sat straight up in bed and, in keeping with his usual morning performance, shouted happily, “IT’S MORNING!”

For a moment I thought that maybe I had dreamed the entire episode. But no, Slade assured me matter-of-factly that it had indeed happened. “I was just helping you. Now you won’t have to pay money for a haircut!”

I grabbed up a mirror and ran to the bathroom to inspect the damage. I turned by back to the wall mirror and held the hand mirror up. Nothing. I searched and searched, but thankfully I couldn’t find the spot that had been relieved of its burden. Finally, a bonus for having too much hair!

As I walked back into the playroom, I noticed some white threads scattered on the carpet. I gathered them up and set them on the coffee table to examine them.“Uh...Slade, what are these?”
“Um…I think they belong to your blanket…” I looked over at the white woven blanket that Clinton had bought for me at the charity auction in Wright City.
“Jeez!” A huge gaping hole was evident when I held it up.

“You can just glue that back,” he suggested. I immediately set off on another rant about thought before action. Deviant behavior. The growing greed and capitalization of the global economy…

I had finally calmed down again when I noticed a scrap of material lying near the couch. “This looks suspiciously like..MY PILLOWCASE!!” I screamed. Sure enough, my pillowcase looked as though it had encountered a bear with an attitude. It had been mauled during the night!

Next up was a scrap of green material that exactly matched a piece missing from his shirt.

“Holy cow! Is there anything that you didn’t cut last night?” I inquired with exasperation.

He gazed back at me with guilty eyes. I directed my most stern look at him in an attempt to drive that feeling of guilt so deeply that it would haunt him throughout his lifetime. Then I noticed that his forehead seemed a little taller this morning.

In fact, there seemed to be a lot of space between his eyes and hairline. HOLY COW!I grabbed his head to examine the damage. Like Sherman’s March to the Sea, he had inflicted a swath of total destruction - from his hairline to the crown of his head!

His mother was going to kill me! I chastised myself for my own irresponsibility. The words came back to haunt me, “My mama NEVER lets me cut with scissors…”
Of course she didn’t! She knew he was a shear maniac with scissors! Slade the Slicer. Slasher Slademan! Would this nightmare never end???
Perhaps we can find some treatment for him. Maybe a support group like Slashers Anonymous. I have a feeling that, if such a group existed, it would contain numerous three-to-five year olds with patchy, irregular haircuts and guilty eyes.

I took several photos of the damage and began uploading them to my computer. That's when I made yet another discovery. Evidently, the Slademan decided to document his midnight excursion with incriminating photographs! According to the data on my digital camera, his rampage began at 11:32 p.m. and ended at 11:55 p.m. A five-year-old on the loose with scissors and a digital for 23 minutes! Yikes!!!

He took several photos of the inside of his mouth...

Then wandered to the kitchen...

There were several hand photos...

And this one eliminates all doubt as to the identity of the midnight slasher...

The weapon of choice, A.K.A. "the smoking gun"...

And, the most incriminating photo of all! I would know this upraised index finger anywhere.

Note the blanket and matching fibers on the floor, the green material that fits a hole in his shirt exactly, and the weapon. If you look closely, the strands of hair can be seen also. All the evidence, tied up in one neat photograph. I told him that he had better hope I could make his mother laugh about this one. "...Or else you're in a lot of trouble, mister!"
"Do you think you can make her laugh?" he asked hopefully.
"Well, I'll try..." I said, "But I'm finding rather difficult myself..."
So I had a lot of explaining to do when his mother arrived to pick him up. I gave her a blank check. "This haircut is on me!" I said generously.

They returned shortly after a visit to the barbershop. I guess the punishment fit the crime in this case. The Slademan was not so happy now...

I assured him that there were many attractive bald men. I mentioned Vin Diesel...and Sam H. You look like a Marine, I told him. None of that really helped him to make him feel better.

Hey, but at least his mother is laughing!! : )

All Right!!!

2007-05-29T12:08:00.000-05:00

My Grand Canyon photo DVD arrived today!! Thanks, Gracie!

I won't have a chance to look at it or post until later this week, but stay tuned! Also, something else is keeping me busy at the moment. More about that later....