Wednesday, March 25, 2009

More rough camping and bralessness with the Beeswaxes

Hmm. I do believe it has been so long, my blog muscle has atrophied. I am, for once, short of words. Is scary a little bit.

Went 'camping' in Payson again last weekend. When I enter the cabin I pretty much stop moving. I like to blame my slug-like behavior on altitude sickness. (At 4,921 feet, it is pretty much like base camp with the Sherpas. If the Sherpas were small curly-haired white children, and 4,921 feet was 17,000 feet) Whatever the reason, there is something about the place that makes me immediately remove my trousers, don yoga pants (inventor of yoga pants should win Nobel Prize), pop the top of some tangerine Diet Rite, heat up an entire case of Costco mini quiches, take a 2 hour tub with bubbles and jets (and quiches), slip under a down comforter, and stay up reading mystery novels until 3 am. 

There are of course some variations, which include BBC America marathons (How Clean is Your House? Cash in the Attic, and Jake's maybe new favorite show of all time, TopGear), or trips to the Payson Wal-Mart in previously mentioned yoga pants to check out what's in the Redbox (Secret Life of Bees, No Reservations), buy new ice cream drumsticks (ones in freezer had unacceptably stale cones), and check to see if there was any sort of vampire/panty party going on in the intimates section. I stopped there to check out some bras, since I forgotten to wear one. Alas, I was too early for the party.

I did venture out a little on Jane's birthday. We went and got some manipedis and some mexi-lunch over to the El Rancho (at the intersection of the Beeline Highway and Highway 260, across from McDonald's). Then we came back and decided to walk off our chimichangas with a brisk hike in the wild and dangerous forest (i.e. along the golf course). Management had put up some weird wire fencing around the green and other random and unattractive spots to keep elk from eating/digging up/pooing on the course. While we were looking for lost balls, Jane bumped up against the fence and screamed, well, like an 8-year-old girl will: super-duper loud and squeal-y. She couldn't speak, but kept pointing at the fence. I told her to pipe down and grabbed the fence myself to show her that she was being dopey. I was fine. Her hip tapped it again, and this time I heard a snap and a hiss (before the screaming began again in earnest). It was ELECTRIC fencing. Seriously. What is the point of rambles in nature if we only end up electrocuted? (Only, not me, as I am inexplicably immune to electric fencing.) Is not relaxing. 

I say, take the fences down. I prefer elk to golf, anyhow. But nobody asked me.

So then, after her harrowing adventure, Jane needed a relaxing soak and some quiches before cake and presents. Only, her quiches were pizza rolls. To quiche her own, eh?

In other news, I found another scorpion in  my entryway yesterdee mornin'. Have finally decided to call professional bug murderer fellows. I can deal with crickets and ants and even roaches and huge hairy wolf spiders, but I cannot deal with scorpions. I CANNOT DEAL, I TELL YOU! Am now willing to risk cancerous poisons so that I can sleep unmolested in my bed. 

I do not like the scorpions. I do not even like eating their relatives the lobsters (unless they are pureed in bisque, where they taste quite lovely and sinful), because they look like scorps on steroids.

Finally, am loving Charles Dickens on Masterpiece. Did anybody see David Copperfield? Starring tiny 'Arry Potter?

Lastly, here is a little clip from TopGear, wherein they race communist-made cars. (That link was in case the embedded clip doesn't work. It isn't on my computer.)  Jake said later in the show, they race the cars against a dog, and the dog wins.





I was in Freiberg, East Germany, in August 1990, just a few months after the wall came down. We went to Church (next door to the temple), where a girl told us all about the many lovely changes in her life all thanks to German Reunification. The biggest and most exciting? The family's shiny new BMV (is BMW in German. Go figure), which they'd just picked up in West Germany the day before. She had lots of terrible things to say about the Commy cars. She might have spat on the ground to emphasize her point. Or maybe she didn't. I can't recall. I was only 16, and more concerned about my bangs than about correctly quoting ex-communists.

10 comments:

JJ said...

I am so glad that you put quotes around camping. I was about to state sarcastically that what you described isn't camping but you had already added the sarcasm. However, that is my kind of camping. Bubble baths, books, and yoga pants....ahhhhhh!

Barbaloot said...

Hey-I've been to that Wal-Mart! What fun.
Yikes about the fence---but cool about your super-hero powers in avoiding it. Should you use those powers for good or for evil I wonder?

Heidi Ashworth said...

Even when you are short on words and feeling tongue tied, it's all just lovely. Harry Potter in Dickens, eh? Who knew?

Heather said...

We missed you Sunday! Glad you had a nice RELAXING trip! :) Love the altitude sickness, I get that when I go to Utah! :) Sorry Jane bumped into that dang fence! Why not shake things up a bit on the golf course with the wildlife hearding through??

corrie said...

That clip was so funny! I love that guy. AND I need a place in Payson to go wear yoga pants and watch BBC America. fuuuuun.

Lorie said...

Gotta love the Payson Wal-mart! I will have to try the Mexican restaurant the next time I am in that neck of the woods.

LisAway said...

Wow, you sure know how to rough it!

Neither Greg nor I care a hoot about cars but we both love Top Gear. That is one excellent show.

I'm so glad neither of you died of electrocution. Maybe it's part of the "spa" feeling of your "camping" experience. Some new kind of shock "therapy". How therapeutic.

heather said...

I wanna go camping with you! Forget that great out doors! Give me a giant bubble bath and a pair of yoga pants! And my favorite thing to do is spend all hours of the night reading a good book. Nice!

Jolene said...

We better be wearing yoga pants in heaven... otherwise it wont be heaven (sad).

nevadanista said...

I couldn't believe the end of this post. I have a great love of communist cars!!! Especially the Trabant. My mission was the Dresden Mission, and I arrived in Germany April '90 (was never in Freiberg though). Oh the memories of Eats Germans gathered around western cars, ogling. The members of a branch we were in bought us a Trabant the summer of '90, but our mission president wouldn't let us drive it :D The members chauffeured us around in it however, when we had to travel to different towns. Those were the days!