I ended my most recent post with a reference to my toenail and I would like for you all to join me in grieving the loss of the beloved 2nd toe toenail on my left foot.
For those who care and those who will continue reading despite their indifference, this is how it happened: It was the day after Thanksgiving around 5am. The pooch needed to go outside and, like a dutiful doggie mommy, I got up to let her out. My sister and her dog were spending the night in the other upstairs bedroom so I didn't turn on the stairwell light for fear of waking her and the dog. I made it down the stairs without incident. I then shuffled slowly through the living room, dodging the Christmas tree, a coffee table and two recliners. Whew! We made it to the back door! Out goes the pooch. And I flipped the switch on the porch light. That was mistake #1. While she was doing her business, I decided to take care of some business of my own. What? I just woke up!
Mistake # 2, (don't worry, I'll come back to mistake #1) I turned on the light in the restroom. Bad idea. I realized my mistake immediately upon exiting the brilliantly lit restroom. Dang, now I can't see a thing in the dark house. Ok, don't panic. I have time to let my eyes adjust before running the gauntlet again, the dog is still sniffing around the back yard. Unfortunately, I had already made mistake #1. I stood with my nose practically pressed to the glass in the door with the porch light glaring above. The dog concluded her business and I let her in and turned off the light. We were plunged into darkness the likes of which mankind has never experienced. Dang! I can't see anything...again! I am too tired for this! I just want to go back to bed!!!!! Forget letting my eyes adjust, we can handle this. I just walked through there not five minutes ago, how bad could it be?
I inched along past the recliner bottle neck, the dog toy strewn rug, coffee table, Chirstmas tree. We're almost home! Thwack. Stifled screeching, searing pain, something feels very wrong. Doubled over in pain made it a short reach to touch the toes. Still pitch dark. Hmmm, they feel wet...could be blood...nah can't be. Hobble up the stairs. Decide to check the toes because seriously something feels really wrong. TOENAIL NOT ATTACHED!!!
Now, weeks later, the toenail long gone, I lament it's loss. I miss you, toenail. Your fellow fussily painted toenails miss you too. Painting the skin just isn't the same. :(
Monday, December 17, 2012
Saturday, November 24, 2012
A Very Buzzard Thanksgiving.
So, it has been a long time since my last post, but things have not been terribly exciting for me . . . until now. Oh yes, the gathering of family. I have migrated to TX from CO, which is quite the culture shock. How was I to know that there is only 1 tub of vegan butter in this town and that it wasn't at the grocery store we went to?
So I ventured out on Thanksgiving Day, before the parade was over, on a quest for the mystical and elusive Earth Balance buttery spread. I located it in the nearest big box store and was anointed with the foul breath of the self check out attendant when I asked for help. For the record, I'm not stupid. I just don't shop in that store and I was not sure which payment selection to make when using a gift card. The attendant helped me and was actually very nice, but let me take this opportunity to say that oral hygiene is very important. Aaaaanyway, I made it out alive with the butter.
Well, cooking began around noon. Middle Sister and I were rocking around the kitchen making two versions of carrot souffle, turkey balls/tofurkey, and roasted veggies. And then it began. My sister was doing the responsible thing and washing the blender. This is not just any blender, oh no. I has three tiers of blades. Angry, vengeful blades of DEATH! She attempted to clean the blades of death and paid the price. And thus we had the first incident. Incident two, followed closely. My sister was preparing to make turkey balls. What are turkey balls? Well, I'll tell you. Basically they are stuffing, cranberries and ground turkey mixed together. She cut into the first package of ground turkey and heard pshhh. Not a good sign. "This doesn't smell right. Here, smell this." Now I haven't eaten meat since Thanksgiving 2 years ago so I had some doubts about my ability to judge whether or not it is spoiled, but I gave it a go. Gack! "It smells like eggs." Time to bring Dad in to consult. Dad says, "Open another one." Ok. Pshhhh. Sulfur smelling turkey tube numero dos. Well, I didn't think many would be satisfied with only tofurky at this little soiree so off she went to the above mentioned big box store to find more meat.
Meanwhile, Dad chucks the spoiled meat over the back fence. Yeah, we are country people and that's what we do. The cooking continued with new, non-egg-smelling turkey. And then . . . I saw them. THERE ARE BUZZARDS IN THE BACK YARD! That's right, birds of prey preying on rancid ground turkey. We've had some pretty interesting happenings during the holidays, but never buzzards. Leave it to my family.
Everything else went pretty smoothly...except the ripping off of a perfectly good toenail, but I'll leave that for another time.
So I ventured out on Thanksgiving Day, before the parade was over, on a quest for the mystical and elusive Earth Balance buttery spread. I located it in the nearest big box store and was anointed with the foul breath of the self check out attendant when I asked for help. For the record, I'm not stupid. I just don't shop in that store and I was not sure which payment selection to make when using a gift card. The attendant helped me and was actually very nice, but let me take this opportunity to say that oral hygiene is very important. Aaaaanyway, I made it out alive with the butter.
Well, cooking began around noon. Middle Sister and I were rocking around the kitchen making two versions of carrot souffle, turkey balls/tofurkey, and roasted veggies. And then it began. My sister was doing the responsible thing and washing the blender. This is not just any blender, oh no. I has three tiers of blades. Angry, vengeful blades of DEATH! She attempted to clean the blades of death and paid the price. And thus we had the first incident. Incident two, followed closely. My sister was preparing to make turkey balls. What are turkey balls? Well, I'll tell you. Basically they are stuffing, cranberries and ground turkey mixed together. She cut into the first package of ground turkey and heard pshhh. Not a good sign. "This doesn't smell right. Here, smell this." Now I haven't eaten meat since Thanksgiving 2 years ago so I had some doubts about my ability to judge whether or not it is spoiled, but I gave it a go. Gack! "It smells like eggs." Time to bring Dad in to consult. Dad says, "Open another one." Ok. Pshhhh. Sulfur smelling turkey tube numero dos. Well, I didn't think many would be satisfied with only tofurky at this little soiree so off she went to the above mentioned big box store to find more meat.
Meanwhile, Dad chucks the spoiled meat over the back fence. Yeah, we are country people and that's what we do. The cooking continued with new, non-egg-smelling turkey. And then . . . I saw them. THERE ARE BUZZARDS IN THE BACK YARD! That's right, birds of prey preying on rancid ground turkey. We've had some pretty interesting happenings during the holidays, but never buzzards. Leave it to my family.
Everything else went pretty smoothly...except the ripping off of a perfectly good toenail, but I'll leave that for another time.
Happy Thanksgiving, y'all!
Thursday, September 20, 2012
I'm typing this with my left hand...
...Because I just burned the poo out of the 2nd and 3rd favorite fingers on my right hand. Stop thinking about which is the 1st favorite! You may, however, think about how a person as sensible as yours truly could possibly burn the poo out of two perfectly good fingers. Well, I'll tell you.
It all started with my dear friend going off sugar and sugar subs. She lauded the merits of such deprivation and that got me thinking, "I bet I could do that." She feels wonderful, I want to feel wonderful. Yes! I'm doing it! It has now been 20 days since I gave up sugar and sweeteners. Impossible, you say? Nay! Well, I will confess to a few instances of, "Oh crap, this tastes awesome. It must have sugar in it." And two intentional cheats for a B-12 supplement.
What does this sugar business have to do with burning my hand? Here's the thing. I am planning to jump off the band wagon in a BIG way. I will be hiking to the bottom of the Grand Canyon, back out again, and I ain't worryin' about sugar. Part of the jump plan involves preparing treats to take along for the hike.
So, I saw this recipe on Pinterest. Yep, I do that. The recipe was a very appealing recipe for brittle that contains lots of nuts, seeds, and dried fruit. I diligently gathered up all the ingredients and got an honest to goodness candy thermometer. I think you see where this is going. To make brittle, one must heat a sugar and water mixture to 302 degrees F. That happens to be the temperature at which sugar morphs into lava. Now, being a geologist, I know a little about lava. The main thing is you don't want it on you, cause that stuff is hot. I don't really have a reference for the specific behavior of lava when it makes contact with skin, but I now know what sugar lava does. It sticks. Oh yes, neighbors. There is a horror lurking in candy recipes It's called sticky sugar lava that is heated to the temperature of the sun. Candy makers force sugar into this transformation all the time. They could take over the world with this stuff. I would do whatever they want as long as they don't start throwing sugar lava on me.
Anyway, as I hastily tried to get the brittle mixture out of the pan and onto my properly greased cookie sheet, some of the sugar lava slopped onto my hand. It wasn't my best moment. I said some things that I won't repeat here, and practically crawled inside the sink with the cold water running.
Some very interesting blisters are emerging on my pointer finger. You can see the sugar's travel trajectory across my thumb just below the nail and onto my pointer finger with a flourish.
At least the brittle looks good! Can't wait for the Grand Canyon to try it :)
It all started with my dear friend going off sugar and sugar subs. She lauded the merits of such deprivation and that got me thinking, "I bet I could do that." She feels wonderful, I want to feel wonderful. Yes! I'm doing it! It has now been 20 days since I gave up sugar and sweeteners. Impossible, you say? Nay! Well, I will confess to a few instances of, "Oh crap, this tastes awesome. It must have sugar in it." And two intentional cheats for a B-12 supplement.
What does this sugar business have to do with burning my hand? Here's the thing. I am planning to jump off the band wagon in a BIG way. I will be hiking to the bottom of the Grand Canyon, back out again, and I ain't worryin' about sugar. Part of the jump plan involves preparing treats to take along for the hike.
So, I saw this recipe on Pinterest. Yep, I do that. The recipe was a very appealing recipe for brittle that contains lots of nuts, seeds, and dried fruit. I diligently gathered up all the ingredients and got an honest to goodness candy thermometer. I think you see where this is going. To make brittle, one must heat a sugar and water mixture to 302 degrees F. That happens to be the temperature at which sugar morphs into lava. Now, being a geologist, I know a little about lava. The main thing is you don't want it on you, cause that stuff is hot. I don't really have a reference for the specific behavior of lava when it makes contact with skin, but I now know what sugar lava does. It sticks. Oh yes, neighbors. There is a horror lurking in candy recipes It's called sticky sugar lava that is heated to the temperature of the sun. Candy makers force sugar into this transformation all the time. They could take over the world with this stuff. I would do whatever they want as long as they don't start throwing sugar lava on me.
Anyway, as I hastily tried to get the brittle mixture out of the pan and onto my properly greased cookie sheet, some of the sugar lava slopped onto my hand. It wasn't my best moment. I said some things that I won't repeat here, and practically crawled inside the sink with the cold water running.
Some very interesting blisters are emerging on my pointer finger. You can see the sugar's travel trajectory across my thumb just below the nail and onto my pointer finger with a flourish.
At least the brittle looks good! Can't wait for the Grand Canyon to try it :)
Sunday, September 2, 2012
When animals make me squeal like a 5 year old in front of strangers...
Yesterday, I took my dog, PS, for a hike. As usual, she was off leash in blatant disregard for the rules, but I digress. PS enjoys running ahead of me, turning around and laying on the "you're too slow" guilt or attempting to catch a squirrel unawares. She never catches anything, with the exception of cactus needles which I then painstakingly remove over the next few days to her great annoyance.
As I watched PS in her primal wilderness mode, the thought of rattlesnakes crossed my mind. I have never seen one on this particular trail, but they must be here. The thought came and went, as thoughts often do and we went about the business of communing with nature. Once we reached the predetermined turn around spot, we...well...turned around and headed back to the trail head.
We hadn't gone a half mile before I saw and heard people ahead. I hooked the leash on PS's collar and surveyed the situation. There was a man and woman on the trail ahead of us. The woman was yelling at their little dog to STAY! She began to creep around off the trail and, with a huge sigh of relief, leashed her dog. Assuming the little dog was some kind of killing machine, I cautiously moved forward with PS in tow. I kept waiting for the woman to confirm that her little dog did in fact kill and possibly eat hikers, but she looked up at us and said, "There's a rattlesnake on the trail."
Oh. A rattlesnake. Well why all the fuss. By this time I can hear the little darling hissing and rattling, as rattlesnakes are known to do. The snake is now between the man and woman. She states that they are from Chicago and have NEVER seen a rattlesnake in their lives. The man is attempting to go off trail and avoid the snake while asking how far they can strike. Don't look at me dude, I don't intend to provoke an attack. He safely makes it past the snake and we let the dogs meet. There was no killing done by either dog and so the meeting can be called a success.
Now being the very cool Western US resident that I am, PS and I proceed toward the snake. There is no more hissing or rattling at this point so everything is cool. The woman asked if I would like them to watch the snake while I go off trail around it. I assured her that I was cool like the other side of the pillow and would not need their assistance. Snakes are no big deal after all. Everything will be just fine.
And it was...until we were directly in front of the very grumpy snake. At the very moment that he began to hiss and rattle, I let out a SQUEAL and pranced away. Yes, squeal and prance. And that my friends is how to deal with a rattler on the trail.
Bless that couple for not laughing at me, but thank goodness I can laugh at myself. :)
As I watched PS in her primal wilderness mode, the thought of rattlesnakes crossed my mind. I have never seen one on this particular trail, but they must be here. The thought came and went, as thoughts often do and we went about the business of communing with nature. Once we reached the predetermined turn around spot, we...well...turned around and headed back to the trail head.
We hadn't gone a half mile before I saw and heard people ahead. I hooked the leash on PS's collar and surveyed the situation. There was a man and woman on the trail ahead of us. The woman was yelling at their little dog to STAY! She began to creep around off the trail and, with a huge sigh of relief, leashed her dog. Assuming the little dog was some kind of killing machine, I cautiously moved forward with PS in tow. I kept waiting for the woman to confirm that her little dog did in fact kill and possibly eat hikers, but she looked up at us and said, "There's a rattlesnake on the trail."
Oh. A rattlesnake. Well why all the fuss. By this time I can hear the little darling hissing and rattling, as rattlesnakes are known to do. The snake is now between the man and woman. She states that they are from Chicago and have NEVER seen a rattlesnake in their lives. The man is attempting to go off trail and avoid the snake while asking how far they can strike. Don't look at me dude, I don't intend to provoke an attack. He safely makes it past the snake and we let the dogs meet. There was no killing done by either dog and so the meeting can be called a success.
Now being the very cool Western US resident that I am, PS and I proceed toward the snake. There is no more hissing or rattling at this point so everything is cool. The woman asked if I would like them to watch the snake while I go off trail around it. I assured her that I was cool like the other side of the pillow and would not need their assistance. Snakes are no big deal after all. Everything will be just fine.
And it was...until we were directly in front of the very grumpy snake. At the very moment that he began to hiss and rattle, I let out a SQUEAL and pranced away. Yes, squeal and prance. And that my friends is how to deal with a rattler on the trail.
Bless that couple for not laughing at me, but thank goodness I can laugh at myself. :)
 |
| Rattler! |
 |
| First strike target :( |
Thursday, August 30, 2012
Hiking
I consider myself an experienced trail hiker. If it has a trail up, down, around, through, behind, or beside, I can hike it.
I LOVE hiking. If I could keep the dog in kibbles just by hiking, that would be flipping amazing. That's right...FLIPPING AMAZING! Unfortunately, I have not been able to convince anyone to pay me to hike...yet.
Now I have a confession to make. I hike alone. Now before anyone jumps down my throat, let me explain. Since moving to Colorado, I have not found a group of people who hike as much as I want to or who are very reliable. I have been in more dangerous situations with groups than I have on my own, so I conclude that I do much better on my own. That being said, hiking is dangerous and even experienced hikers are injured or worse in the backcountry. Hiking alone is not recommended. I still do it. This is one of those "do as I say, not as I do" moments.
I was thinking about what I wanted to tell people about hiking alone and why I am willing to take the chance. As I slowly made progress up the side of a mountain the answer came to me. A few weeks ago, a man shot 12 people to death in a movie theater not far from here in Aurora, CO. I saw an interview with one victim's father. He said that his son and his girlfriend were really into the Batman movies, and had been looking forward to the midnight premier. I realized, as I ambled through the pine forest, that this was my Batman movie premier. I'm really into it. I love hiking in the forest, the desert, the tundra. I want to be in the wilderness. And so I go.
I have learned a few things over the last few years of hiking bliss and blisslessness:
1. Use poles. I didn't use poles for a long time, but once I did, the heavens opened up and angels sang, "Where have you been all my life!"
2. Carry a flashlight, lighter, and a map. I was lost once. I was scared. These items would not have made me less scared, but they would have made me more prepared.
3. It isn't a race. And even if it is...I just don't care. I may always be the slowest hiker on the face of Planet Earth, but I just don't care. No one ever found a more magnificent view or gobbled up some extra bit of glory by beating me there, and if they did, I hope glory makes them fat in their old age. So there.
4. Talk to strangers. Say hello to everyone you meet. Hikers are a community. If you don't say hello to me or at least smile, I will make a face behind your back. Not really, but I will wonder who put saran wrap on your toilet seat.
Howdy!
I've been debating what I would like to say for my very first post...How about an intro?
I'm a vegan, geologist with an irrational fear of spiders, bopping around the Western US with no particular direction. In fact, I have a negative sense of direction. My normal state of existence is ... lost.
I love hiking! I love it soooooooo much! Nothing renews my soul like moving under my own power in the wilderness. I may not be the fastest person on the trail, but I'm there and that's what matters.
I also love my dog. She is sweet, beautiful, spunky, and a little crazy (like me). I will probably be sharing a lot about her here because she is my only child. Just like those of you with human children, I can't stop talking about my baby.
On this blog, most posts will be related to my adventures in the backcountry, vegan snacks and backpacking food, products I like and whatever trouble I can manage to get into.
I'm a vegan, geologist with an irrational fear of spiders, bopping around the Western US with no particular direction. In fact, I have a negative sense of direction. My normal state of existence is ... lost.
I love hiking! I love it soooooooo much! Nothing renews my soul like moving under my own power in the wilderness. I may not be the fastest person on the trail, but I'm there and that's what matters.
I also love my dog. She is sweet, beautiful, spunky, and a little crazy (like me). I will probably be sharing a lot about her here because she is my only child. Just like those of you with human children, I can't stop talking about my baby.
On this blog, most posts will be related to my adventures in the backcountry, vegan snacks and backpacking food, products I like and whatever trouble I can manage to get into.
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