Tuesday, June 9, 2009

Get me some gold lame' and call me Cha Cha

I had it all planned out, this was an opportunity for hearty belly laughs. I lingered at the left mouse button, sweat upon my upper lip, agonizing "should I or shouldn't I?" The imp in me hit the mouse button to confirm my purchase. Immediately, the pains of buyer's remorse hit me like a Mack truck. OMG WHAT HAVE I DONE! THE HORROR, THE HORROR, SOYLENT GREEN IS PEOPLE! (that was three movies all rolled into one quote)

The deed was done, I was committed to a night of laughter. Robin Williams would be in Vegas and I treated the ole ball and chain to a night of comedy. I was pretty stoked after the initial purchase trauma wore off. I said to the Husband; pack thy bag ole naive, we are hitting the trail for funsville. Like he needed any prodding. There you have it, one big father's day shindig for my loving gorilla. I had hit the peak. Then, the storm came in.

A mere two weeks since the infamous clicking of the left mouse button, the news came. “Weapons of Mass Destruction Tour to be cancelled due to heart surgery; all East coast shows to be rescheduled”. Ok, I thought well, Vegas is a little farther west and hell maybe he will get better by then. Nope. Now don't get me wrong, I wish the man well, and I am happy his heart is healthy again and he is going to continue to tour. WHEN ARE YOU COMING BACK TO VEGAS?! Apparently, not in the too distant future, or even in this calendar year. Yeah, all I am seeing on his website is the East coast. WTF! See the obsessive compulsive side just went to the site again just in case.

Ok, so now we are committed, got plane tickets, hotel, car rental, there is no stopping the trip. So we leave. Got on that jet plane, knew when we would come back again, and tried to figure out what are we going to do. Well what the hell else are you going to do, you go to the desert.


Let's take a look shall we?




One of the places we didn't see on our last trip was a place called Valley of Fire National Park. Anyone we ran into while there in Nevada the last trip said "You have to see it! The colors is spectacular". Well, they were right. The rocks were amazing, only in nature can these colors come to life.










Almost every rock surface had holes, burrows, or some kind of cave like dwelling. Brian loves holes so this was really fascinating and compelling for him to climb into one. I know, you counseling types, you can analyze him later. I have my own theories.



I was excited to take pictures again, I seemed to have lost my mojo as of late and cannot seem to get my camera to do what I want it to do. It is a constant argument with myself and the camera. So far, the camera is winning. Winning big.



The road into the park is small, winding, and HOT! Yeah, I tried to lay down on the asphalt to get the "arty" shot but I burned my biscuits. My biscuits are too old to be burned in that manner.



My homage to the burning bush. I felt a little like Moses for like a second. I was hot, bothered and looking for some water. Funny thing about the desert, even when it is overcast, still FREAKIN' HOT!





One of the attractions besides the amazing colors of the landscape was the 3,000 year old petroglyphics of the indigenous Basket people who lived in this area. The preservation is outstanding and apart from the visiting chuckle heads that think they are being funny carving into the rock and defacing a state park, it is truly amazing to see how people who lived thousands of years before you communicated. I am awestruck in the pictorial detail and care that went into the drawings.



I am still wondering how the hell did these people survive here? Man, there is no visible water sources, I am told there are two kinds of food pods growing wild in the area but to find something that small would be a miracle at best. This is tough living folks.



I told Brian to jump, for once he did what I asked him to do. ::smiling:: And as you can see below, MY man found himself a hole to climb in. Can you tell he is squealing like a little girl on the inside?



One of the local residents. Luckily this guy was hanging out in the visitor's station in the middle of the park. I like them but getting this close is allowed when they are behind glass.


The local color, bright and beautiful.


Proof that I have a husband. He often claims I don't have enough pictures of him. The Pigeon, looking cool as always.


Another local resident ran up to my feet while I was taking pictures of the flora. These guys are fast.






This was in a place called Mouse's Cave. This was on the 1 mile round trip trail to an area where a renegade would escape and be able to find water. At the end of the trail, there is a natural collection bowl in the rocks where he would be able to stay in the area for months. When we arrived all we found was a insect infested pool of dirty water. Geez, I guess if I was thirsty enough it would do.










Brian also likes to climb rocks. He is one with the rock. You can never take the boy out of the man. I sat at the bottom and took pictures.




On the hike back to the car, these guys showed up. I was not afraid to get close and they were not afraid of me. Actually I think they enjoyed the posing. I even got a little head bob from the big one.






This guy looked a little worse for wear. He was molting and there was a little evidence of a fight in the recent days. Tough little bugger.

















The road out of here was barely a road. At some points it was just gravel and no way to contact anyone. I think we may have even wandered into Arizona, but I can't be sure.




I treated Pigeon to a pedicure the next day. He was in man heaven. Someone was willing to massage his feet. I think I created a monster.

Wednesday, May 13, 2009

Open House

This my girl. My girl who still lisps her letters "v" and "b". My girl who lights up a room with her smile. No, she is not Mary Tyler Moore, she is my Em. This is her first year in elementary school. It has been an adventure for both of us. Starting over is hard, probably the hardest lesson we ever learn. New school, new kids, new rules, and HOMEWORK. I have to say she has done really well, and most of the time it is her parents who have to stay late and clean the chalkboards. This picture makes my heart ache, because these steps are not the only ones I will see from this angle. This was the end of the year open house for her classroom.




Em is explaining the life cycle of frogs and butterflies. I am seeing a budding scientist. This might help her with the missing caterpillar in the van from a year ago.


I take reading for granted, but to watch her eyes as she is sounding out her words is magical. I can almost see the neurons firing.


The class has a speaking stick so that they can go to the board to read their sight words.




I don't remember studying photosynthesis at this age but I am older than dirt so things must have changed.


My Girl, MY GIRL!

Who is this masked dynamo? Steel eyed, focused, ready for action. I suddenly heard a voice say "Uh, maam, uh, unless your a coach you really should not be on the field." Yikes, have I really turned into that parent? Apparently I have, the one that makes a complete fool of themselves as they are completely wrapped up into a euphoric moment when your kid is participating in something you love. Dad, believe me I am making you very proud. I have embarrassed Em numerous time in her first season of baseball.






This is my lovely girl. She is having a blast and I could not be more proud of her tenacity. She runs like a cheetah, and pounces like a jaguar on any ball in her vicinity.


I don't get tired of looking at this face.


I love it because she asks to play different positions. Last week she learned how to back up the first baseman. In this game she got to play first base. Those beautiful ribbons you see in her hair, they were made by Lorie.





They all line up like little ducks, what is cool is that each one gets a chance to hit. The teams don't switch until everyone has had a chance to bat. This particular day was hot, and the game was during most of the kids' nap time.