Blog Entry Retraction

I have been informed that I was mistaken in my previous entry concerning our ski trip, and must print a retraction. Mom and Dad did indeed make it out of the bunny slope area, and I was emphatically informed that Mom went to the top of the mountain with Tye and skiied all the way down successfully.

My sincerest apologies.

Friggin' Summer

Ah, summer is here. Don't you just love summer? If you answered "yes", then you don't live in Arkansas, AND you've been listening to too many Country Time Lemonade and Bluebell Ice Cream commercials. It's FRIGGIN' HOT. It's FRIGGIN' HUMID. And yes, I've been told that Texas has big mosquitoes, and Minnesota has lots, but put those together for Eastern Arkansas...imagine mosquitoes the size of pomeranians coming at you over the horizon, fresh from a flooded rice field, in a menacing black cloud the size of a nuclear blast. And ticks...if you even THINK of entering a wooded area, every nightly shower becomes a rousing game of "tick hunt", ending in a restless night of "tick-bite scratch", not to be confused with the ever popular and never escapable "chigger-bite boogie." Ticks and chiggers I grew up with, but the mosquito hordes are a new adventure, and after several years I still haven't gotten used to the plague. Summer isn't all bad...we do get to wear shorts. Well, I choose not to because of all the ugly bug bites. My legs haven't seen much in the way of the sun in the past few years.

So yeah...I don't enjoy summers like I used to...as probably most people who work in the warm-weather driven tourist industry.

If you're like me, you're mind is back in the cool weather of fall and possibly winter. To help bring back these memories of cooler days, here's some pics from our ski trip this past winter in the cold crisp air of the Colorado Rockies:

Ok, so this isn't Colorado...this is a sign somewhere in Kansas. We saw these signs for miles and miles, and finally got within ONE MILE of the Largest Prairie Dog In the World! Imagine our excitement! We stopped, however, and were totally bummed to find the place apparently out of business. I mean, who goes out of business when you own the world's largest prairie dog???

This was Marden’s first ski trip….both figuratively and literally. He did a LOT of tripping, as well as sliding, tumbling, crashing, and just flat wiping out. For his first time he did pretty good, but learning to ski just isn’t a pretty process, no matter how coordinated you are. I found that skiing came back to me just like riding a bike, and we finally broke up into pairs according to ability...Mom and Dad on the bunny slopes, Marden and Tye on the greens, while Trent and I (as the more adventurous family members) hit the blues and blacks of both Winter Park and Mary Jane.

After a few fun days of skiing, Trent and I decided to trade our skis in for snowboards. I’ll say this – snowboarding is a blast, but learning is even an uglier process than learning to ski. See pic. It was after this not-so-soft wipeout (which my loving hubby snapped while laughing very unsympathetically) that I decided a helmet might be prudent.

First of all, snowboarding leaves you with a feeling of being completely out of control. With skis, you have two independently working legs and can (with practice) retain some semblance of control. With a snowboard, your feet are strapped to the same board, and there is no “falling”…it’s more of a “brutal slamming of your face into the hard-packed snow which feels like concrete.” Then you finally get the “feel” of the board and can begin to weave back and forth gracefully, just like on TV. But this is just the snowboard deviously lulling you into a false sense of security, so you start building up speed and confidence when all of a sudden, “WHAM!!!”, you’re eating snow yet again, but this time after a spectacular head-over-feet-arms-flailing-snow-spraying exploit which everyone within a half mile radius has just witnessed. And you can see on their faces (once you pry your face out of the hard pack) that they don’t know whether to laugh, come offer assistance, or get the ski patrol…so mostly they ignore you or choose the not-so-disguised laugh option. The worst place to do this is the last stretch of the run, which meets with other runs and widens out into a huge open area in full view of the lodge/restaurant – in full view of the literally hundreds of people lounging around, taking a break.

Another hazard is deep snow. We were lucky enough to be on our trip during the big “Blizzard of 2006” which hit Denver, and dumped 24” of much-needed snow on the ski resorts. Of course for skiing snow is great, as long as you stay on the groomed runs. Get off the runs, and you find yourself flailing about like a beached whale (sometimes in an inverted position), losing poles and skis in the whole process, and making sounds which are reminiscent of the mating call of an overweight bear. I’m not sure what’s worse – hitting deep snow with skis or a snowboard. Both are equally bad situations which one should avoid at all costs.

Despite the embarrassments, it was one of the best times of my life. I’ve come to understand something about myself. I’m an Adrenaline Junkie. I can’t wait to go again, and Mr. Hooter – despite his many bumps, bruises, and sore bones – feels equally excited about more skiing in our future, as does the rest of the fam.

So here's some pics from the trip. Enjoy the imaginary blast of cold air.

Dad and Mom...on the bunnies.

Dang I wish I was in Colorado...!

We have aquired a new cat. We didn't WANT a new cat, but it seems to have chosen us, so who are we to argue. Someone apparently unceremoniously dumped it...and that's another pet peeve of mine to discuss on a different day.

I'm saying "it" because Mr. Hooter and I are not in agreement as to the cat's sex. I know I should know these things, as I've had cats my whole life, but cats are difficult...this cat is either female, neutered male, or immature male. I say male, Mr. Hooter says female. We shall see who is right. Just the other day, Mr. Hooter uttered the words that few wives hear spoken by a man even once in their lifetime: "I was wrong, you were right." I am eager to hear those words again, but I'm afraid I won't until I get this new cat to the vet for a check-up and possibly shots, assuming he/she hasn't already had them. As of now, the cat has been dubbed "Matilda." Don't look at me - I didn't come up with it.

Here's Sally and Matilda's first meeting...the exact moment of impact. Sally got too friendly to fast, which is a personality flaw of most dogs, I'm afraid. Sally paid the price and was about knocked into the next county.

More people...

Just encountered a guy going fishing...looked pretty scroungy, but that's what you look like when you fish. However, his hair was messed up, most of his teeth had apparently gone on permanent vacation, and let's just say he was a bit...overweight...

The back of his shirt proudly proclaimed, "SEXUAL BEAST"

*shudder*

People...

People never cease to amaze me. I can tell we're getting deeper into summer (well...the heat. It's not officially summer yet...*sigh*)...my patience is wearing thin. Working at a state park means constantly dealing with the public, and all the joys the public brings. A majority of people are nice, if sometimes ill-informed.

This afternoon I got what was probably a nice lady using bad judgement. Either that or she was on something.

She called and asked, "Do you have the number for the Lake City license place?"

Me: "Excuse me???"
Lady: "You know...the place you get your license."
Me: "Um...er....well, we sell fishing licenses...is that what you mean?"
Lady: "No...you know, where you get your driver's license."
Me: "Ma'am, are you aware that we're a state park?"
Lady: "Yes...I just thought you might have it."
???
Me: "Um...no...I'm not even sure where Lake City is...I'm afraid I can't help you."
Lady: "Oh...ok then..."

I mean...?!? Of course when I need a phone number, I don't look in the phone book or call information. I just pick a random state park and see if they know.

I worry for America.

Pet Pics!

Yes, it's time once again for Pet Pics, where I shamelessly post pictures of our pets the way some proud parents post endless photos of kids. Not that there's anything wrong with that...my kids are just the 4-legged kind. I figure it's been a good 6 months since any pet pics were up here, plus I don't have anything interesting to say, so why not...

Here is Miss Lucy, profoundly described by Mr. Hooter as "a very smart dog with very poor judgement", still confined mostly to the house after her injury a year ago, which is healing - just not very quickly. I think we'll discuss this with the vet on our next visit, not only because I'm concerned, but also because our house frequently exhibits the odour of Bigstinkydog, creating a flurry of activities including bathing Bigstankydog, washing Bigstankydog's bedding, and mopping the floor. Unfortunately for Mom, I don't think Bigstankydog would make a successful candle scent.

And here is Sally. Sally for some reason gets away with murder...could be the cute face or the sad eyes, but it's pretty shameless. Princess Sally is the master of sneaking her way on the couch...one second she's absorbed in her own doggie duties, and the second you turn your head, she's on the couch curled up fast asleep (or seemingly fast asleep). Notice here she's made herself at home on my head. I probably didn't care because I was doped up on pain meds...this was the day I cut the crap out of my finger and had stitches.

Sam is still around after 12+ years! Still leaving gigantic hairballs, both shed in clumps and barfed up to step on during the night with bare feet. He's also King of the Litterbox...he can take brand spanking new litter and in 3 seconds have you bagging it up and running for the outdoor trash barrel all with your breath held and face turning alarmingly purple. He also finds it necessary to take food from his food dish and put it in the big communal water dish, where he does nothing but stare at it. I've tried numerous experiments involving moving the bowls far apart, but nothing seems to deter this obsession.

And Amos, with her good buddy Lucy (who has the creepy-eye due to camera flash)...Amos is an outdoor cat who has the run of the park (he occasionally worms his way indoors to visit Lucy). You can't seen in the pic that he has no tail, just a little stub. This causes numerous park visitors, most from cities, to think that they've seen a genuine bobcat.

It's really hard to keep a straight and sincere face (though I do manage - don't want to hurt feelings) when I have to tell a crestfallen tourist that they've seen merely a run-of-the-mill housecat....and that not only are bobcats much bigger, they are not bright orange. At least not to my knowledge.

That's it for the clan...well, except for some fish and my corn snake named Orville. I'll try to get some pics of him up, but he's camera shy.