looking forward to...

We had a busy, busy weekend. A superbusy weekend. I'm still recuperating. As soon as I return the borrowed/rented/stolen scuba gear/costumes/photo equipment I'll tell you all about it. Well, maybe not the stolen part.

I'm not looking forward to all that returning.

I'm looking forward to seeing all the photos.

I'm not looking forward to writing two research papers this week.

I'm looking forward to being back in Kansas next weekend.

I'm not looking forward to locating all the missing costume parts.

I'm looking forward to the blackmail money from the photos.

I can tell you this much. I tried scuba diving. Not snuba, scuba.

I didn't drown, because I'm here to tell you the story.

I did it here:

I did it with a very patient instructor who'd never had to inflate a bouyancy device on someone just to keep them from belly-scraping the bottom the whole time.

He inflated. I sank to the bottom.

He inflated some more. I sank to the bottom.

He checked the bouyancy device for leaks. No leaks. He inflated some more.

I sank to the bottom. Which is not bad if you want to see the bottom up close. But I was getting a little tired of seeing the bottom that close.

He shook his head and called the other instructors over to look at the freakish, Incredible Sinking Girl. He inflated some more. I now looked like a mutant puffer fish with limbs.

I was finally able to motor about 6 inches off the bottom. I loved it.

When we were through, the instructor asked if I had ever considered a career as an anchor.

I'm not sure he was kidding...

Packin' up

Lunches. Lunches are the bain of my existence. Hubby's working-man lunch. Must be filling and contain no tofu.

Whee's daily school lunch.  Preferably contains tofu.  Must survive being stuffed in a already stuffy locker till noon, yet be cool and delicious when it's 106 outside. Oh no problem there.

(For some great lunch and food ideas check out Lisa Leake's blog at 100 days of real food. I really like the story about taking on the school's "approved" snack food list!!)

My lunch, which starts around 9:22 a.m. and ends at 2:46 p.m. (It wouldn't end then, except I have to start getting ready for dinner). May contain anything in the fridge or pantry.

Here's our lunch boxes. Can you tell who's is who's?

yep, mine is not the grungy one in the back. We all have criteria for our lunch containers.

Philoboy's lunch transport must:

• Be large enough he can find it when he leaves it lying in the back of the truck, in the garage, in the yard, at the shop, etc. etc., etc.
• Hold enough for breaks and lunch
• Be manly enough the other guys won't ridicule him
• Be grungy enough the other guys won't ridicule him
• Be tough enough the other guys won't ridicule him
• Be heavy enough to hurt the other guys when they ridicule him

Score 10 points for durability and re-usability. No style points are awarded in the men category.


The Whee's lunchbox must be:

• allow ample time for bonding with her friends. Thus, no foods requiring cooking, assembling, etc.
• disposable. After buying 37 lunchboxes last year, I ain't doin' that no more. Hence, the ulra-lightweight, disposable lunch sack. Customizable with cool artwork from Mom. At this point, if her cohorts make fun, it's the price you pay for being in junior high.

I just ooze sympathy, don't I?

Score: -5 for environmental irresponsibility.  +55 for saving Mom's sanity. Overall score: 50 points


My lunch box. The ultra-cool stainless steel model with spiffy magnet decor. Personalizable. Reusable. Durable. Works great except sometimes the latch comes open and my peanut butter nutella sandwich falls in the dirt. That hurts. And yes, it is perfectly OK to put peanut better and nutella on the same sandwich.  I save calories by not using any bread...

Score: minus 1 on style points for the rubber band I now put around it so I don't lose my nutella.  +10 for eco-greatness in every way. Overall score: 9.

Well, I'm off. If you try to call, I'm probably out to lunch...

A moonlit bum

This summer has turned me into a lazy bum. A lazy good-for-nothing bum, who runs (albeit slowly) when she sees motivation headed her way.

Take, for example, my plans for a moonlit kayak paddle this week, to enjoy the slightly cooler temperatures and the last few days of freedom before school begins.

I loaded the kayak. Don't tell Rudy the Red-nosed kayak that I took this old thing. He'll get his feeling hurt. But the Pelican is easier to load and haul. Refer back to explanation of laziness above.

And then I went inside to read for a while, till it got dark. I fell asleep reading, and when I woke up, it was way late. Too late to drive out to the lake. Refer to explanation of laziness above.

So I decided to finish the book. Which meant that it was even later, and consequently, I overslept the next morning, missing out on the opportunity for a beautiful sunrise paddle. Refer to....

So last night, I decided that, by golly, I was going out, no matter what. And then the sky started to look like this:

And the radar started to look like this:

As Sue Sylvester says, let me break that down for you.  I was headed to Lake Thunderbird. Notice the cloud directly over the lake.

Cloud cover means no moonbeams. No moon means no moonlight for paddling. No paddling means I'm cranky. This is not a laziness issue, but rather an indication that the weather gods hate me.


I finally decided that I would at least drive out to the lake, even if meant just watching lighttening all night (refer back to Perseids watching night.)  I knew that with a waning 95% full gibbous moon it should be decent light if the clouds clear. I knew this because I have celestial connections. And because I have moonphases on speed dial.

And at 9:40 p.m. last night, I was no longer a lazy bum, because my launch looked like this:

And it was well with my soul.

Starry, starry night

Drove my Chevy to the levy, but the levy was dry.

I did drive my Chevy to the levy, and it WAS dry!  Everything is dry around here right now, but it's getting better.

I drove my truck out to the lake last night to get away from the bright lights of the big city, the better to spot meteors, my dear.

I saw exactly four celestial fireworks before the cloud cover moved in. I didn't know whether to cry from disappointment-I've been waiting for the Perseids for a year- or cry from happiness. Been waiting on rain about that long too. So I just cried. Just because I could.

It wasn't a lot of rain, but we'll take whatever we can get at this point. It wasn't a bad deal, sitting in the bed of the truck, watching lightening, either. (Yes, I eventually went inside).

The Perseids are kind of a nostalgic, last-fun-thing-before-school-starts event. As a kid, I would lie on top of the picnic table in the back yard, exalting in the fact I got to stay up waaaay past my bedtime, and reveling in the fact that I had almost another month till  school started, because back then we didn't start till after Labor Day.

This time, it means school is less than a week a away.  Blech. And Hurray! I don't know whether to cry from disappointment or anticipation. I think I'll cry just because.


   Happy Trails, and may your adventures reach for the stars!

A review for you

I wandered into Backwoods the other day, and it happened again. I came home with backpacking gear that I had to justify to Philoboy. It just keeps happening. He's threatened to send me to Backpacker's Gear Anonymous meetings, but changed his mind when he saw how I lit up at the suggestion...

This time, the folks at Backwoods, (Jim, specifically. Let's place the blame where it's appropriately due) convinced me I needed  this Therm-a-rest sleeping pad. Needed, mind you, not wanted.

I bought it in size small, and I've used it twice now. Here's how it stacks up against my scrap piece of foam rubber that I used for years.

Therm-a-rest: air mattress. Inflates by lung power. Easy to inflate and deflate. Rolls up nice and tiny for my backpack (8x3). Pretty comfy. Holds its air, so far. Patch kit available if it doesn't. It's waterproof plastic-y material. Great when the tent's leaking. Foam rubber tends to soak up water like, well, a sponge.

I would suggest go straight for the regular, or even the large size. Even at a petite 5', I kept feeling like I was falling off the pad. You'll pay for it in weight though; the regular weighs half again as much, and the large twice as much as the small size. Sleeping pads aren't necessarily supposed  to be the same size as your sleeping bag. They should support and cushion you from shoulders to hips, so this should have been big enough. Lengthwise, it was. The width seemed a little scant, though.

Here's the downside, and in my book, it was a biggie. It's noisy. Every time I moved, turned, wiggled, or stretched, the pad crinkled, swished, and crackled. I am an extremely light sleeper, so I woke up every time I moved. It also scared away the wildlife that ventured near the tent.

Final scores:
                                        Therm-a-rest air mattress                 Foam eggcrate

Ease of set up                         4                                                  5
Weight                                   5    (9 oz)                                     3    (15 oz)
Pack size                                5   (8x3)                                      3  (10x6)
Waterproof                            5                                                  1
Cush for my tush factor          5                                                  5
Damage proof                        3                                                  4
Quiet factor                            2                                                  5
Price                                      2 ($129)                                       5  ($10)
Warmth factor                       5                                                   5

The foam beats the Therm-a-rest in 4 categories. The air mattress wins out in 3. They tie in cush and warmth. Bottom line is this: car camping, the foam pad wins every time. Kayak camping: depends on the weather. Backpacking, I'll bite the bullet, pay the price, suck up the sleeplessness, and take the Therm-a-rest. People will just have to deal with my tired grumpiness, because on the trail, weight and pack size win out every time.

And another thing,

Before I launch into my daily dribble, let me just say: GALS- We need more
Diana Nyads. Who's next?

OK, now that I got that off my chest. Sometimes waiting to make proclamations keeps me awake at night.

In Ponca, Arkansas, despite what everyone tells you, there are no elk. This is the section of the Buffalo River famous for herds of elk grazing along the shore. I don't believe it. There were signs of elk, like this-

But no elk. I think all the elk went to Minnesota for the summer.  I had  to limit my elk viewing to the Elk Education Center in Ponca. Very nice, with regional  history, and great displays. And free admission!!

If you're in the area, and you see some of the OTHER kinds of signs of elk- let me know. I ain't believin' it till I see it.

Summer Summation

Well, as summers go, this one was one of the hottest, least busy, and least traveled I can remember.  BOO-O-O-O  to all of those things.  Perhaps the fall will be better.

To sum it up:  the girls and I went to Colorado for a few days and crammed in as many things as we possibly could without missing a meal or any sleep.

The Whee stayed in Colorado and went to cop camp. This looked like SO much fun. I want to pose as an 8th grader next summer and go with her. I think I can pull it off.

Daughter #1 went to Curacao- a place I still cannot pronounce, and can barely spell. She went scuba diving and met new people. I'm all for meeting new folks, but I prefer to do my diving in a submarine with a cute captain who speaks with a British accent. This is how D#1 and I did it in Cayman two years ago and it worked just dandy.

Take the spiffy little ferry out to the submarine. Get on the submarine. Sit on comfy seats with your own porthole for viewing.

Watch tarpon go by at unreal speeds and try to capture a decent photo. Wish you were fishing for tarpon. Give up on the decent photos of supersonic tarpon and just talk to the other passengers about how fast those fish are.

The last hurrah summer adventure before school starts was my recent solo foray into the Ozarks for camping, hiking and zip-lining. I promise there will be pictures. I'm waiting on photos to arrive. There was a little problem with my camera- like that it weighs 65 pounds flung over your back when you're going 20 miles an hour down a cable and it will take your head off when you stop. That, and the fact there was no way I was prying my hands off the safety line to take a picture. Unh-uh. No way. Nope, not happening.

So some kind gentleman took pictures of my terrified face in lockjaw position, grimacing but not screaming-this is important-I repeat, not screaming. When I get those I will share. Maybe.

Till then, it's scramble for school time, for both the students and instructors in this abode. It's hard to tell who's more excited.

And look forward to fall break so we can ADVENTURATE!!!

Hike-it-y-doo-da

Why let a little heat dissuade you from summer fun?  Because 110 degrees is too freakin' hot to move, that's why! We have spent the summer as mounds of ice cream-devouring slugs in front of the AC. It's been pathetic. Ugly and pathetic.

When I was in Arkansas this week, giving myself heart failure on a zipline, it was 83 degrees. I have one thing to say about that-
nah-nah-nah-nah-boo-boo.

Sorry, my inner brat wriggles out sometimes.

I squoze (yes, squoze is a word. I saw it in the Blogger Dictionary) in a little hiking before and after the canopy adventure. It was hotter than 83 when I was treading the trails. I chose to ignore that fact, and the fact that my hair was dripping onto my glasses, blurring my vision. That's also my excuse for the blurry pictures.

The Lost Valley area, at Ponca, Arkansas, has some wonderful trails. The area used to be open for camping, but has been downgraded to day-use only, due to extensive damage from ice storms, flash floods, and inconsiderate campers.

The trails wind around cool rock formations, over streams (now called gravel pits), to some caves and several waterfalls. Except these were more like...um,, airfalls. They ain't got no water.

The trail crew, which, by the way, does a fantastic job of maintaining the trails, told me they had dehydrated the water and were keeping it in a drawer back at the office. Park Service humor is, uh, different.

Still, hot and dry as it was, it was beautiful. And full of beautiful things. And way better than being a sorry slug sitting in the city.

Econundrum

I ran away.  My summer has been adventure inadequate. Derring-do deficient. Insufficiently impromptu.  It was time to fix all that. 

I went to Arkansas. Perhaps not a cooler choice temperature wise, but a cool place, nonetheless. I like to go to Arkansas because I like to drive really fast around the curves in the mountains, hearing the tires squeal, making my passengers hang on to the 'omigosh' handles in the car, and say between gritted teeth, "do you really have to do that?"

Oh yes, I do. I really do.

The fact that this was a solo trip did not deter me from my Jeff Gordon imitation.

I'm guessing that due to the ultra-warm summer, camping is not a favorite activity for many people right now. I was the only human in the entire campground. The other loner kept wandering by to see if there was anything good to eat. There was not.

The singular nature of my venture influenced my food choices. When it's just me, I see no reason to light a fire, start up the campstove, or haul a lot of food that requires preparation, aka work.

So it's fruit, cereal, protein bars, and milk.  Lots of milk. Milk does my body good. But herein lies the problem. With just me to feed, it only requires about a half gallon a milk a day. With the family there, it requires more like three quarts. One of us is ba-moo-ga.

So do I do the environmentally and more economically wise thing and take  quart boxes, hoping that I can find ice and it won't spoil if I don't drink it all?  Or do I commit a cardinal sin of environmentalism and buy milk in tiny- serving size boxes- a bunch of them?

I did the bad deed. I bought a couple dozen of 4-packs of these little shelf-stable milk boxes. No ice required. I am not opposed to drinking room temperature milk. And they have plain, chocolatized, and strawberry-tized versions.  If it makes the purists out there feel any better, the boxes can be recycled. It made me feel only a tiny bit less guilty, as I sucked down six of these babies a day.

And lest you think that the whole trip was spent lolling around camp eating, here's a couple of hints of what else I did:

Hiking. More to come about that. I think my name was mentioned in conjunction with mental deficiency, by the trail crew who asked if I was lost. When I said no, they asked if I knew it 104 degrees. "Yep, I know," I said, and kept walking.

And the highlight. The daunting, daring, antidote to summer inertia. More about that later, too. I didn't scream, if that's what you're wondering.

Outside, outside

While the exterminator was trying to get rid of the gnome infestation and other mirages in my house, I thought I would get out of the house for a couple of days and go someplace cooler. Unfortunately, I must have made a wrong turn somewhere, because I ended up in Arkansas, which was not really much cooler than the furnace known as Oklahoma.

I headed to the Buffalo River. I've been pining for the Buffalo since February. I'm ready to spend two weeks with Rudy the Red-nosed kayak, getting to know every bend of the Buffalo.

Right now, that area is known as the Buffalo Boulder Field. There ain't no water. 

It's kind of like going to museums- you never visit the ones in your own hometown, you must drive far away for the museums to be interesting. So instead of treading the claybeds that pass for creeks and rivers in the Sooner state, I opted for the gravel pits in their most Natural state.

And yes, hot as it was, I camped. As one person said, when I admitted to being the lone ranger in the campground, "Are you freakin insane?!"

On the upside, the bathrooms were not crowded, the place was quiet and I got a lot of work done, and I didn't have to jockey for parking in the shade. On the downside, I took three sink baths between 10 p.m. and 3 a.m. and didn't sleep a lot. I figured this way I would have a greater appreciation for air conditioning.

I walked, I photographed, I perspired, I contemplated, I immersed myself in what is the Buffalo in Summer.  And thought about air conditioning. And ice cream.

It's getting weird around here

I think I may be having heat-induced hallucinations.  Things are getting weird around here. Weirder than usual, I mean.

There's cats sleeping in the sink.

Allegedly, Helga tried to commit hippo hara-kiri from the bathroom window. I found the screen on the ground outside. Helga was poised on the window sill. This was after a great deal of giggling by The Whee and one of her friends. There was the sound of a crash as well. They blamed it on Helga. I shudder to think what tortures they might have created that made a hippo want to jump.

And now, to top it off, gnomes. My kitchen is infested with gnomes.

I need to call an exterminator. Or maybe just have some ice water and lie down for a bit...

More fun stuff

That's it. I give up. If you can't beat 'em, join 'em.  (Usually this refers to my children, whom I beat every chance I get. Just kidding!) 

I've decided that by golly, if I'm going to be hot and sweaty in spite of the AC churning its little heart out, taking seven showers a day, and buying out the inventory of the Braum's next door, I'm going to have fun doing it.

I'll be headed out to brave the heat for some outdoor activity, which has been sadly missing this summer. So is Daughter #1, (heading out for activity, not missing) but she's headed to a place with temperate temperatures, clear water, and funner fish than we find in Oklahoma: Curacao. Until this week, I though she was going to Mexico. I got that "Mother, you're a dumbass" look when I asked her where Curacao was. It's down by Venezuela, by the way, in case you want to look smarter than the average blogger.

Which, interestingly, is not all that far from the place where my blogger colleague is cooking this week, over at What's cooking in your world

In the meantime, as you hold your breath waiting for the stories of adventures and mishaps, check out my friend Gretchen Steele's cyber place:
Medicine Mama 's Outdoor Daily News. Maybe you'll get some ideas for braving the overcooked outdoors. Or maybe you'll just decide to go someplace that's not Oklahoma.