Tale of two tangents

I had a Tab and leftover Olive Garden for lunch today and this made me very happy.
The tab was very cold.
The leftovers were the remainder of the previous night's endless pasta bowl. I chose the angle hair pasta and I got a mix of the asiago garlic alfredo and marinara sauce.
And I added the sausage for an extra $1.95.
Before you get all excited and start making plans to go to Olive Garden, put on the brakes. The endless pasta bowl deal ended on Sunday.
Bummer.
However, Red Lobster has the Endless Shrimp deal going on and I plan on cashing in on that at some point.

Tangent 1- One of the current hip retro trends happening right now is the revival of Tab. I didn't start this one. I've started alot of cool retro trends but this isn't one of them- I'm in on the ground floor, mind you, but I didn't start it.
I brought a 12 pack of Tab to Chuck and Lori's surprise SCCA baby shower and only me and Debra and Olga were excited. Everyone else turned up their noses. God, shouldn't they be collecting Social Security by now. They're probably voting for McCain and Rossi too! Facists!


Tangent 2- Fucking act of fucking Congress to get Spanky to drive freaking 9 freaking miles to go to freaking Olive Garden! The only reason we didn't go to Red Lobster for the Endless Shrimp fiesta is cos that was 15 miles.
The bum.
I'm freaking going to Red Lobster this weekend with or without the Spankster!

Happy B-day Seestor!

I won't say which birthday it is.
She would be pissed and it would date me anyway.
We're both getting middle aged. (And by middle aged, I don't mean middle aged. People in our family don't live to be 82.... oops. So, realistically, she and I are about two thirds of the way through...if we're lucky and/or don't jump off the Golden Gate Bridge.)

Ask any of our friends, colleagues, or family members and I challenge you to find one that will call either of us "grown-ups"!

We're that rare breed that retains the enthusiasm and doe-eyed wonderment of youth.
(And the immaturity and carelessness with money and possessions of a five year old.)

Bitch got a new IPhone BTW!
I just sent her some shit to deal with liver spots and such, like she did for me last year.
She didn't even appriecate that. Ho didn't even call me to tell me she got her card.
Like it's her Birthday and she has this entitlement to be a complete asshole.

Anyhoo, Happy Birthday Michelle!

Day 9 & 10- Time to go home!

Travel days.

We stopped for lunch on the way out of town at a place I can't remember the name of.
Very unfortunate cos they had the best salsa verde ever! This is salsa verde you would steal money from your Granny to get!
Fuck. What did they put in that shit!

Got up the road a piece and ended up in Beaver, UT.
Home of the Beaver Beavers. Ha, ha. Seriously. They were the Beaver Beavers.
What else would they be!?

We stayed at the Comfort Inn.
DQ was just across the Highway so we went over and me and Spanky halved a swiss mushroom burger and a cookie dough blizzard. Bruce had a fancy banana split.

On to the airport the next day and turned in the Mighty Dusty Suzuki.

Had some drinks and wings at the airport and watched soccer.

Soccer!? How gay, right? Europeans and their wussy football.

I like the shoes but that's where it stops. I want to see blood or I'm just not interested.

Was looking so forward to nice, cool Seattle after a week in ninty plus heat.

Psych! 91 degrees at SeaTac.

Mutherfucker!

Day 7 & 8- Return to Zion

So we decided to cut ourselves a break and head towards the land of road signs and marked trailheads.
Zion National Park.
Downside: People, and lots of them.
Upside: Knowing where you are at all times without the assistance of orbiting satellites.

First day, we tried the bottom up side of the famous Zion Narrows. Us and about a thousand other people.


Fortunately, the farther you went, more of the herd fell behind. The only notables we couldn't shake were the Boy Scouts and a band of frat boys that really liked to whoop.
Can't recommend this hike enough. Crazy spectacular. And you could take a dip in the river anytime so you never got too hot.

Next day, we really lost the masses by trying a long high elevation hike. Observation Point takes you four miles in and 2500 feet above the Virgin river. Pretty spectacular. And it was fun to watch those less acclimated pant up the path. I love watching other people suffer. It's the only time I pipe up and annoyingly tell people to "Have a nice day!"
Bwahahaha!

Day 5 & 6- I hope pain is something you enjoy.

The warm up is over. Time for the real backpacking!

After MUCH discussion, we finally decided on Hackberry Canyon as our backcountry experience.

You'd think I'd have been put on notice when, once again, we needed GPS just to find the trailhead.
Ever optimistic (ask anyone, I'm prone to optimism) I followed the boys blindly into the canyon.
The absence of water where there was supposed to be water was a slight concern. But we soon met a stoned ranger who assured us that there were some seeps a little ways, I mean quite a ways, actually, but not too far up the canyon.
Ok.

After the ranger came the horseflies. Soon we all looked like Pigpen with our very own swarm that followed us everywhere we walked. About four miles in, we found a spot the flies didn't seem to like and stopped immediately.

We made a fire to deter the knats. Didn't work.
Then we made dinner. Freeze dried meals. Steve liked his. Bruce and I had to bury ours.
And then suddenly and unexpectedly, the stream just dried up.
100 degrees and no water. Surely it would come back tomorrow. Right.
Mercifully, it did. We did a hike further up in the canyon so we could say we'd seen something and then got the hell out of there!

Day 4- You thought your ass was lost before!?

It's going to sound like I'm bitching but I'm not bitching.

Holy hell!

Escalante is not exactly tourist friendly. You've got to be at least moderately hardcore and prepared for disappointment by the spoonfull. It is the definition of "out in the middle of fucking nowhere!"
We decided to go to the most popular slot canyon hikes (Peek-a-Boo) out on the most popular road (Hole in the Rock) on Tuesday. About twenty miles in, we encountered about twenty-five yards of loose, rutted chalk in the road. The mighty Suzuki balked.
We could go no further.

Backup plan.
Devils Garden.

Pretty cool... and well marked!

Next we decided to try to find Zebra and Tunnel. Two more slightly obscure slot canyons. Not marked. Navigation skills required.

Four hours and one slot canyon later, we make it back to the mighty Suzuki panting, "water, water, water..."

This is a thirst only Tequila could quench.

Sadly, some swine had stolen our limes we left on the table while we were gone!
I suspected an inside job but could illicit no confession.
We pressed on... as all soldiers must.
We tried a blind taste test between Patron and Don Julio.
Out of three tries, Spanky got three out of three right and me and Bruce got three out of three wrong. So there is a difference, and one out of three people can tell what it is!

Day 3- Lower Calf Creek Falls

This trail is ridiculously well marked so no worries.

It's three miles but flat, flat, and more flat.

Steve acted as tour guide for the hike. He picked up one the self guided tour pamphlets and read the provided passages at the appropriate times.
Ha, ha! How gay!
Actually it was pretty fucking interesting.
You could see ancient pictographs and graineries from the trail.
The Fremont people made these little rooms high up in the canyons to store seeds.
And I mean way the fuck up in the canyon.

Picture this shit 1000 feet from the canyon floor with no obvious way to get to it.
WTF?!

We were industrious this time and carried a cooler with beer and wine. Had the falls to ourselves for the most part.


Again, water was freaking cold. So not much swimming as dipping.

Interlude

I wish I could have a career in blogging.

I started with a winter beet salad with wild field greens, toasted hazelnuts, and blue cheese served with a voigner and have since moved on to chocolate lovers cake and a nice claret.

Keep on your toes for grammatical errors.

Day 2- The Search for Upper Calf Creek

It's gonna sound like I'm bitching but I'm not bitching.
I don't read maps, I have no sense of direction, and I can't figure out GPS stuff.
Well, I could but I'm too fucking lazy.
So I just follow.
And on this day, I did a bunch of following.... mostly the wrong way.
We walked all over everywhere for five hours looking for Upper Calf Creek falls in 100 degree heat so's we could go swimming. This was supposed to be an easy day cos we had been traveling and drinking the previous day. One and a half miles. Easy.
If, and only if, you leave from the appropriate trail head. We did not. We stopped at the trail head to nowhere. And nowhere is where we ended up....for five hours.
After finally admitting defeat and moving on... a mile down the road, we finally found the marked trail head.

Twenty minutes later we are splashing around in the pool beneath Upper Calf Creek.

Oh well, adversity makes the reward all the more satisfying.
Right?

Utah Vacation- Day 1

I had a reasonable 8:30 direct flight from Seattle to Salt Lake. The boys left at 5:15, which means we all had to get up at 3 and head to the airport. Thank you Jesus, the airport Starbucks is open 24/7.

Even though they left so goddamn early, we all got there the same time and picked up the mighty Suzuki and headed out.
I managed to talk them into lunch at Cracker Barrel. I freaking love Cracker Barrel! It's exactly the food my Mom makes. You'd think I'd be tired of it cos it's really nothing but fried meat and gravy but I still love it.
It was the first time Spanky had ever had turnip greens. He said he liked them. I guess I shouldn't be surprised. It is flavored with bacon. What's not to like?

The drive to Escalante took about 5 hours and it was really stunning once we got close.
Got to the campground. It was a resevoir with petrified wood and fish. Lots of families there to camp and fish. We just drank. I had a bottle of Patron, Steve had Tres Generations, and Bruce brought Don Julio. We sampled each.

Sigh.

Sigh.

Why do I do this to myself? It reminds me of all those times I waited until the night before to start an English paper.... a ten page English paper.
Where to start?

Feliz cumpleaños Joshua

We (as a group) have not been so good about birthdays lately.

Why it's so hard to herd a group of adults together to eat cake and drink tequila I have no idea.

Lives to lead and so forth.
People too busy furthering their careers, saving the world, and overtraining to celebrate.
Sad.

But we did manage to wish a belated birthday to Josh on Friday at Tutta Bella's.
Pizza, wine, beer, espresso and Trophy cupcakes.
(Had to take a break from my new cholesterol free diet.)

I tried to make it more festive by bringing a giant sombrero made of colored tape.
It worked. Everyone was dying to try it on. Strangers were gawking with jealosy in their eyes.

I told you!

My annual check-up was Tuesday.
I already had my bit worked up for my doctor.
"I don't need you to tell me I'm healthy, I just ran a fecking marathon, for chrissakes!" Bwahahahaha!
(And then, of course, I would launch into my laundry list of maladies and shortcomings, which she would dismiss and tell me to eat better.)

Reality:
Dr- You have dangerously high cholesterol.
Me- I just ran a fecking marathon!
Dr- That's interesting. You have dangerously high cholesterol. You should eat better.



It's not like it's a big surprise, I guess. I had chest pains during the training for the first marathon and suspected a blockage but dangerously high?!

So no more cake and ice cream (unless it's someone's b-day, naturally! Or a holiday. Or someone makes me a huckleberry pie, for instance. It would be rude not to partake.)

I just don't dig on swine, that's all.

... unless it's on a maple bar, of course.

Spanky found this treasure for me at a doughnut shop in Sequim called Cock-a-doodle-Doughnut.

This was my prize for stumbling across the finish.
Sweet.

I'm the MIP!

Most Improved Player!

I finished the marathon at the ridiculously slow time of 4:45. A vast improvement over my glacially slow time of 5:15, making me the MIP!
I credit Team dlm! (Steve, Mai-Britt and Bertil.)
Those Swedes really know how to support their atheletes!

Chuck was still the MVP, turning in his second sub 4 hour time.
Gina wasted precious water, electrolytes, and energy crying the last five miles and lost a minute or two.


Before:

After:


I was just glad to finish, honestly. Since I hadn't been able to complete a run over 15 miles in training, the finish line was not a forgone conclusion.
I still walked a bit but overall kept myself going.
Decided the night before on a risky stategy- no gel or energy drink, just water.
Besides a small side stitch between miles 13 and 18, I felt ok.
The last five were a struggle, I was just trying to stay ahead of the grandma right behind me. I had such a bright shirt on that I was forced to run the entire last mile cos I knew everyone could see me from the finish line.
So happy it was over I almost started crying myself!

Jeez!

May 2nd! WTF?! I didn't realize it had been that long.
Here's the deal- as I've mentioned before, once I get behind I procrastinate. The farther behind I get, the more I avoid the situation. Ask Olga and Debra if you don't believe.

But now I'm getting fucking tired of all you goddamn whiners harassing me. So here's your new goddamn blog post!

I got behind in the first place cos I was struck with (gasp!) illness. I can't remember the last time I was legitimately sick before this. But this was the real deal. Started off as a benign head cold then morphed into pneumonia then ended with a brief battle with cholera. I assign blame as follows:
50% to Olga and her stinking kid! He was the source.
50% to Spanky. He's primarily to blame for somehow weakening my immune system.

Not that much has really happened in the last month. Just training for a fucking marathon! Getting caught up on Lost. And eating alot of cake (only upside to training for a marathon.)

Staying on Message

If the GOP and the Bush administration in particular have taught me anything (aside from the obvious that, yes, true evil does exist) it's the value and effectiveness of staying on point.

So....in that vein.... I fucking hate people. They are the worst.

There are reminders literally everywhere. Everywhere.

At work- Yes, by all means, fatass, take the elevator down one floor. Obviously, the rest of us don't have a fucking life to lead. And even if we did, it wouldn't matter to you would it, bitch! Nothing is as important as your comfort and convenience. (I know I've railed about this before but it bears bitching about again I think.)

At the gym- Bitch, if you think that water bottle and pink towel saves this treadmill for a half an hour so you can go change, you are tragically mistaken. And please say something or give me a dirty look when you come to retrieve your shit off my machine cos I desperately want to discuss the matter. It's not like you are going to run anyway. You're probably gonna just walk 2mph and watch some fucking cooking show or read a magazine anyway. If you wanna stroll, there's miles of fucking sidewalk right outside.

At home- Oh you did not just take the last english muffin and not take another package out of the freezer! Oh yes, you did. You fucker. Now I have to eat a chocolate chip cookie with cream cheese frosting for breakfast. When I can't fit into my hotpants- it's on you mutherfucker.

I LOVE ROLLER DERBY!

Sue convinced me to go see a Rat City Roller Girls derby on Saturday.
I didn't know much about it and didn't know the rules or anything but what hell.
It was the coolest thing ever!
Chics wearing hot pants and skates trying to knock each other down for two hours.
Elevated genius. Technically there's more too it than that but the details aren't really important.

Upshot= I WANT TO BE A ROLLERGIRL! I actually like hotpants cos I have decent legs from the mid thigh down. Everything above that is suspect but the quads and calves are solid. Still looking for those gold lame hotpants and this would be the perfect opportunity to wear them. Additionally, I love knocking people down! Ever since I could remember I have loved bodychecking people. I always thought I was on an island in this regard, but turns out there's a whole gaggle of chics that feel the same way.
The skating I don't love, but I'll have to adapt.

So. I went to Fast Girl Skates in Wallingford and bought me some rollerskates and pads and (coolest of all) a mouthgaurd! Anything that involves/requires a mouthgaurd is promising.

I've been to two practices so far and there are some badass chics on the practice squad. And they skate fast. I haven't gone all out and participated in full contact cos I don't want to injure myself for my fucking marathon. But after that dumbass idea is finally behind me, I'm in for a dime, in for a dollar.

Another Beautiful Fucking Day

After a much needed eyebrow wax and some ice coffee, us chicas headed to the beach. The water was too cold to swim (too cold for us native Southerners, that is) so we just looked for shells. Michelle found the best one. Bitch.

You know, that was really all we could handle. We had to go home and rest up for supper. Michelle figured out how to turn our leftovers into alfredo. Leave it to her to maximize calories. It was good, though.

Have to leave tomorrow. Leave home to go home.

"I never felt like I left, though. If you've lived in a place and loved it, you never feel like you left it."

Sentimental Education- Revisited

Us chicas had a real girls day yesterday.
Went to The Wharf for lunch.
We had raw oysters and the Captain's Platter (code for too much fried seafood) and Bloody Mary's. We were supposed to be fasting for dinner at Louisiana Lagniappe (Mom's delayed Bday dinner.) But that lasted as long as it took to get menus.
"Oh well, a long day of shopping will work up an appetite", we reasoned.

Then off to the outlets. Slim pickings. I got some more hot pants and a polo shirt.
Mom got a skirt. Michelle just tried on a bunch of stuff and complained about being fat (it runs in the family.)
We all complained about being fat and stuffed and how we hope we're hungry for dinner and then decided to get some gelato.
While we were eating gelato we started laughing hysterically over a private joke that I will reveal later. (Potty humor.)
The owner of the gelato store came over and gave us some more napkins cos we were crying (Olga style.) Mom apologized for us being so loud. The owner said that was ok. It just made her miss her friends.
That shut us up. What happened to her friends? Maybe she meant they just weren't there right now. We didn't ask. We're lucky to have each other and be so close. Enjoy it while it last!
Sigh.


Then we got dressed and went to dinner with the boys. Me and Michelle halfed a bottle of wine and Grouper Pontchartrain, a grouper filet with a whole soft shell crab topped with honey almond bure-blanc.
Then home for more cake and ice cream.

BTW- Haagen Daz Reserve Fleur de Sel caramel ice cream. Don't buy it! Don't try it!
Unless you are trying to gain five pounds.

Happy 60th Birthday Mom!

Except for the black lips (from the black icing on her cake procured by her ungrateful, mean daughters) Carolyn looks pretty good for a senior citizen.

Steaks, shrimp, and scallops. And cake, of course, which I had to hand in to Michelle through the bathroom window so Mom wouldn't see it.




Now we are all stuffed and in need of some serious exercise. Good thing I have a nine mile run to do tomorrow.

Turn Me Loose!

I was born to run,
I was born to dream,
The craziest girl you ever seen,
I gotta do it my way,
Or no way at all.

Me and Mom and Michelle were gonna go out on the boat today.
No where in particular, just trying to get some sun (and since Skip busted his ass to get it ready before we got here, we kinda felt obligated.)
So we got some boiled peanuts and Smirnoff Ice and headed to the Island.

Sadly, upon arrival we observed the vessel had a pronounced list. Apparently, she was taking on water. We called the Captain and he stopped by and confirmed. Our poor boat was sinking. So we stayed in harbour and ate our nuts. It was actually easier. I could have mentioned it in an earlier post, but boating is a pain in the ass.
Much easier to hang at the docks and pretend.


It was a nice afternoon and a nice way to start out Mom's 60th birthday!

Back with my People

Took the red-eye to FL Monday night. It went fairly smoothly, but it was tiring.

I always know when I'm on the last leg home cos the percentage of tan, gold chain wearing, bright clothes sporting, plump people goes way up.
Strangers start to talk to you.
Men like to wear knives and cell phones on their belts.
Women are using a disproportionate amount of hairspray per capita.

These are my people. Although I would never willingly live here again, it's nice to be temporarily back in the fold.

Here, it's go big or go fucking home. Temperance and good taste are not encouraged.
It's nice to take a break from the oppressive good sense, political correctness, and prudeness of the Great Northwest.

Example: Mom asked me to put together some cocktails while she was frying up some porkchops. So I grab five cocktail glasses and head for the ice machine. "Why don't you use the big glasses?!" she asks. Why indeed?! If some is good, then a shitload is better. So change out the glasses and get down the Sam's Club size liquor bottles and mix it up.

My people.

It's all about the meat.

Chillin' in the islands. Sounds good.
Sailing in the San Juans. Sounds great.
Prime Rib. Tipping point.

Josh and Shelly invited Spanky and me up to Josh's Mom's place this past weekend.
I was wary (new places, new people) but it sounded nice.

Reality:

1- Cool house. Hot tub (unused sadly). Sweeping views. Large TV.

2-World's worst tap water- worse than Florida.

3-World's slowest sailboat race. (Offsetted by most genius solution to missing mainsail pin.)

Interlude: "Why, why, why would the fucking Raiders take McFadden? They didn't exactly have a problem running the ball last year." I mused, while stuffing peanut butter bread down my maw.



4-Unbelievable Prime Rib. Homemade coffee cake. And Ice Cream at every meal.

Island life is nice. Don't know if I could take it, but theoretically, it's nice.
You seem to know everyone and vice versa. I think this would make me more prone to violent outbursts. At least, it would be much easier to find hiding places for bodies.
"I don't know where s/he is. Maybe they fell in the water?"

The Three Stages of Drinking Games

Despite a promise to myself to relax this weekend and not put myself on a timetable, I made a drunken proposal at the Chapel about a potluck. Then the old "I make the best fried chicken ever" claim I've been making for years got called. Rats.

So Saturday, we're gonna have a potluck and I'm making fried chicken. Fuck.
A few burner fires and several hours later, it's finally done. Everyone is so hungry, they gobble it down and swear it is the best ever.

Whatever, it's done. Then we move onto games and tequila. Sue has the idea that the loser drinks. Somehow, the buzzer always ends up in her hands. For someone who doesn't like tequila....

People Never Change

I knew this already.
But like most people, I live for validation.

Me and Steve and Shelly and Josh and Casey went to Happy Hour at the Chapel on Friday to see Sue and her college roomate Leta.
I always like to make an effort to meet out of town folks and friends- but there was extra incentive this time.

Here was someone who knew Sue much longer than me.
Not only can she confirm the pathology that is Sue (which she did) but also fills out the timeline.
This was no head injury. Sue is a genuine product of nature and nurture.
It could happen again, God help us.

Well anyway, it was another excuse to drink. And drink we did. Our bitchy gay waiter brought lots when he felt like it. Whiskey, mint gimlets, lavender martinis, and beer.

Casey had to leave three drinks in to go break up with a guy she wasn't dating on his birthday.
Nice.










Oh well, not every ends up in a happy pairing like this one.


For example:



(Actually, I'm just screaming at paparazzi.)

Adventure in the Burbs

Steve and I went up to the Tulalip Outlet to look for him some new clothes. Found a few things. I got some stuff from L'Occitane but that shop sucks now compared to when they first opened. We didn't have much time but it was nice to shop without all the hordes of people usually there on the weekends.
Incidentally, I hate people.

Then... (drumroll).... the whole reason I really went up there... we went to RED LOBSTER! My Uncle Bob and Aunt Ernestine gave me a gift card for Christmas and I was anxious to use it.
We went to the Wood (Lynnwood, that is) and found the Red Lobster right beside Olive Garden, of course.
We shared the Admiral's Feast and a cookie and ice cream dessert. (I don't give a fuck if you are tired of sharesies, Shelly! I like to share. I'm a sharer. Fuck off!) I took the cheese biscuits home in a napkin in my pocket but we forgot to eat them.


Olga knew we were going and she suggested we also try McCafe. She swears it's good. You can get a big latte for $1.69! And they use nice machines. But alas, we didn't have time. Spanky says he wouldn't go anyway. We'll see.

And the Curse is broken.

Stop me if you've heard this one.
So Shelly turned 13 on Friday the 13th.
During that year, 13 people that she knew personally went to meet their maker.
Needless to say, many of us were somewhat concerned when she turned 30 on Friday the 13th.
Seems like we all made it in one piece and the year is mercifully over.




And there was much rejoicing.

The whole gang went up Sunday to close Steven's Pass down and bid a year of bad juju good bye.
Spring conditions! Snow was slow but so what! The sun was out!
Steven's knows how to shut down. There was a band that was too loud, the usual Dummy Downhill, and a Pond Skimming contest that we all threatened to enter. We managed to come up with excuses (I don't want to get my boots wet) and wild promises about next year (Steve is going to enter wearing a sports bra and a grass skirt!)
Sat on our asses and drank Gin & Tonics and ate cake instead.

Next year.....