Forget Route 66: Get More on U.S. 54.

Okay, it's been several weeks months now since I spent 40 hours sitting on my ass driving two furry needy dogs from Phoenix to Kansas City AND back in my Honda Element, otherwise known as The Box of Death.  I can still feel the pain.  I mean, I love that car for hauling sh!t -- that's why I bought it, and it's great for that.  But it is basically a boxy BOX on a crap suspension with an underpowered 4-cylinder engine on four wheels.  So passing on the leetle highways is like pushing a piece of cardboard into a hurricane  (upside is the adrenaline from the near death experience keeps you awake after the first 10 hours or so), and the cabin noise just enhances the whole hurricane experience.  We'll get to the wind sweeping across the planes of Kansas and O-K-L-A-H-O-M-A  in a minute.

So on the way TO the big K.C., I noticed that all the gas station/Quick Stop/Food Mart retail extravaganzas along the way were LONG on junk/crap/sweet products and short on actual food.  No disrespect to Messirs Frito and Lay, but Baken-Ets and Cheetos Puffcorn don't really provide the same nutrition as an apple, or a banana, for example.  And I really shouldn't hate on Frito Lay's very fine products -- they actually use mostly potatoes, corn, oil, and salt, and don't add a bunch of bad weird things to their products.  I think the sweets are much worse than the savories, when it comes to junk food.  These gas station stores are really a Wonderland of Twinkies, Ding Dongs, Zingers, and questionable off-branded pastries wrapped up in super-crinkly clear cellophane packages.  (Man, I miss the days when I could have a Ho Ho or three.  And while I'm thinkin' about it, Hostess should really re-package them as "Ho Ho Ho's" for the holiday.  What great stocking stuffers:  "Look, Suzie!  Santa was here and he left you some Ho Ho Hos!"  And who wouldn't leave Santa some Ho Ho Hos instead of cookies? Really Hostess, if you don't do this and slap them into red and green wrappers you're missing out -- you're WAY behind the candy-coated holiday color-changing packaging curve.  [Okay, I just Googled "ho ho hos" and was shocked to get mostly "hos" dressed in sexy Santa outfits!  Ouch, I guess Hostess already knew that "hos" has a whole new meaning these days?!])  I decided to document the appalling display of bad nutritional choices brought to us by big agribusiness and the magic of unnatural colors, flavors and preservatives.  But I couldn't be bothered to stop and get my camera out on the way TO K.C., and I'd already missed some of the best stops, so I decided to try it on the way back to Phoenix.

The result was NOT totally what I was hoping for.  

First off, I couldn't find, or I somehow missed,

my favorite billboards that tell me, in four signs or less, that if I don't find JESUS NOW, I'm going to Hell.  What happened Kansas?  You disappoint.  I had to settle for a couple of MUCH less threatening signs without the warnings about the fiery eternity waiting for those who don't believe.

I'm almost embarrassed to post these boring exhortations to conform.  These guys are clearly just trying to help me.  Help me become more like them, so that they won't have to keep telling me what to believe or kill me.

Fortunately, I only stopped once or twice in KS. 

Speaking of which, I really enjoyed my first gas/snacky stop somewhere in KS.  Once I was able to exit the vehicle (seriously, this was not easy, because the wind was like a 20,000 on whatever that hurricane scale is), I found that I had stopped at "Mikey's," which is a gas station aka junk food retailer, AND a liquor store.  I like that they give you the option of going for junk food or liquor. What the heck, try both, right?

Just a small sampling of the "food"
conveniently available at Mikey's.

And, here I am showing you how windy
it is on the plains of Kansas.

Okay, I started this post sometime mid-December.  It is now 2012, and I give up!!!  I surrender -- the holidays have killed me and the year 2011, and I will never complete this blog.  But here's what I have left:

Nothin' but tumble weeds in Minneola.

And wind.  Lots of wind in Minneola too.

Tumble weeds waiting to break free, tumble across the highway in front of me, and smash into my grill.
Yes, they really do that.

Self explanatory, but I assure you, I only used the toilet, once the lady showed me how to open the door.

Also self-explanatory, but I totally had a cheeseburger and fries.

I gotta admit -- the whole photo editorial of junk food stops would have worked out better if I had been in a mood to actually stop and take photos.  But I wasn't -- I was in more of a "Let's just frickin' get there mood."  Which always seems to happen to me when I get in a car.  Sounds good at home.  Not so much on the road with two crazy dogs that need to poop on the frozen midwestern tundra.  So we stopped at my favorite LaQuinta in Albuquerque and...more of the same on day two.

Lola wigging out on dash of car, because...

As you can see, Connor was OUT of the car with Mommy.

But look how cute they are when we're all in the car.

 

From me (and most of my cousins) to you -- Happy Late, Late, Late Thanksgiving.

And that's it -- stick a fork in me, I'm finally done with this dang post.  Hope you had lots of turkey and no Baken-ets or Ho Ho Hos last Thanksgiving.  And that you didn't have to spend 44 hours in a Box of Death with two fur balls like I did.  But it's all good.

 Next up:  Christmas and New Year's in February.

 And then I have to find a way to end this blog and move on, since I've already lost the 10 lbs of squidge +.  Perhaps a blog where I rail against the lack of research into atopy.  That should be fun.  No?  Maybe we work on midlife muscles.  But I've said that before, haven't I?  But this time, I really MEAN it.  (Ho Ho Hos, I crack myself up.)

"Boy, you can really taste the kale!"

Yes, that's a quote from the Veggie Boy episode of Cheers.

Sounds stupid, but I really LIKE kale chips.  Some people are going, "Kale?"  Thick, leafy, green scariness from the produce isle.  It's kind of like spinach, but it holds up better in soups.  Kale is the most fun, and one of the only really healthy snacks I've found yet.  (But then, I haven't exactly been looking for leafy green snacks -- I hate lettuce.  And Popeye don't make no spinach chips.)   Cody gave me a recipe for a soup with cannellini beans, sausage and kale that is to DIE for even without the parmesan cheese rind that I can't put in it now that I know I'm allergic to dairy.  But kale chips are awesome.  And I'ma tell you how to make them.

The skinny:

Clean, de-spine and chop kale.

Grind 1-1.5 C cashews in blender or processor (all my measurements are "rough," at best)

Add to cashews:  2 T nutritional yeast, 1 t salt, juice of 1 lemon, and water or pureed red bell pepper as needed to make it like a thick dressing.

Dress kale and dry in dehydrator or oven at low temp until light and crispy.

Watching kale dry.

 The juicy and unnecessary details:

You are going to dress the kale (like a salad) with ground cashews (get a giant tub at Costco, because they can be pricey), lemon juice, nutritional yeast, and a bit of water or pureed red bell pepper and salt.  Sounds weird, but the result is a dairy-free, gluten-free, vegan kale chip that tastes like it is made with parmesan cheese. I could give you a more precise recipe, but I think you need to adjust the ingredients to your own taste, so this is just a rough guide to your own private Fun with Kale.

You need kale.  Get a bunch or two -- start with one if you're not used to it.  (It can be a lot of work and a HUGE pile of kale to do two bunches, but sometimes a "bunch" is small -- depends on what kind of produce you're dealing with.)  Rinse, shake dry, and de-spine (stem?) the leaves (they have a thick stem that you need to get rid of, or at least that's what everyone does).  Rip or cut leaves into pieces that are about two by two inches -- bigger or smaller won't kill anyone and you'll figure out what you like after you make them once or twice.

Grind up maybe a cup and a half of cashews in your blender BEFORE adding any liquid.  Otherwise, you will wind up with a Jiffy/Skippy nutty mess of large and small cashew bits that you cannot get out of your blender.  You can do the rest in or out of the blender -- your choice, but I like to just put it in a bowl and stir from this point, because until you get enough water in the mix, your blender won't do much but piss you off.  Add about 1-2 tablespoons of nutritional yeast flakes (check around, I bet even Safeway has this stuff, and if you need some, I have a lifetime supply, because I ordered a GIANT container that looked really small in the picture on Amazon) and throw in maybe a teaspoon of salt (I'm not really good with measurements -- I usually just throw in pinches until it tastes right).  Add the juice of a lemon to your dry stuff.  Then stir it all up with as much water or pureed red bell pepper (the bell pepper came from a recipe I have, but I don't find it to be necessary and it's kind of a pain and it makes the mix freaky Cheetos orangey) as you need to make this the consistency of thick salad dressing, so that it will stick to the leaves, but also spread.  I used maybe 1/8 cup of water tonight -- just add a little at a time.  Toss the kale in the dressing until you get it on all the kale pieces.

That's it.  Spread the coated kale pieces on the trays of a dehydrator (or a cookie sheet or two, if you're using your oven) and dry it at a low temperature over night.  Don't cook it.  Dry it.  If you get the temperature too high, it will taste funky/burned.  It needs to be done at the lowest temperature you can manage (170F or less) until the leaves are completely dry and crisp.  Not heavy and droopy and almost dry.  Completely dry.  They should be light and airy and crunchy.  CRUNCHY.

Enjoy your crispy delicious kale chips.  I usually eat the whole batch in a day or two solo.  And if you want to be the talk of your next party?   Yes, I said kale chips.  Only problem I have is sharing -- they don't usually make it to any party.

Hail the kale.  Nutty green goodness.

Now, you can BUY these at lots of places.  My farmer's market sells them for 8 BUCKS for a little tiny brown bag (which is where I met my first kale chips), and Fresh & Easy has an even tinier bag for $5something.  So if you're made of cash, just buy some.  If not....  I gotta admit, that the cashews are pricey, so your own chips ain't cheap, but YOUR kale chips won't be all broken, and they come with a big ol' bunch of satisfaction.  Your call.  But these are pretty cool.

P.S.  I'm loving my Amazon ads on the blog -- they think I'm a survivalist or hunter!  Yeah, that's so me.

Put down the Pom Not-So-Wonderful and step away from the sugar.

Today we go to Sugar School and offend family.  Yes, the front steps are still unstripped and my muscles are still unmuscled, but the discovery of 2/3ds of a bottle of Pom "Wonderful" in my fridge has prompted this post in an attempt to SAVE my sister's sugar-lovin' soul!  My sister and nephew were just here for 4 days.  Apparently unable to make it through as much as 2 days without a sugary drink (Huh?  There's only cold filtered WATER?  WTH!  We'll probably die!  [No, they were way too nice to actually say this, but....]), my sis bought a bottle of Lemonade and some of that Wonderful Pom after only two days.  And at this point, I hear Kathy going, "Well, I don't drink it straight.  I just add a little bit to some sparkling water."  Plus, it's 100% juice, how can it be bad?  Oh, fear not, I will tell you why this is bad.

And, lest I forget, the sugary drinks were not the only purchase -- there were watermelon candies and other sweet stuff that had to be purchased and eaten to sate the sugar addiction.  (And I'm not even gonna count the cotton candy on Saturday night, or the gummi bears and chocolate snacks, because that was my badness, but it was in the mix.)  Four days.  Not able to make it without the sugar.  4.  Not good.

So what up with the "Wonderful" pure and natural Pom?  Here's what up: 62 grams of sugar in one small plastic bottle.  Not kidding.  I thought it was a mistake.  72 carbs, only 1 gram of protein, and 62 grams of sugar.  So if you drink that 16 oz. bottle, which many people undoubtedly do, you would send your blood sugar sky rocketing.  Even half a bottle is 31 grams of sugar.  One fourth of the bottle is 16.5 grams.  And a couple of swigs would give you at least 8 grams.  Indeed, fruit juice has as much, or more sugar, than is found in sodas.  http://www.hookedonjuice.com  (Just one quick link explaining the loads of sugar in fruit juice.)  And if you don't like that site, Google it your own self.  

So what?  Big deal?

Well, 4.2 grams of sugar is the equivalent of eating an entire teaspoon of sugar.  So if you take only a couple of swigs of Pom Wonderful (and no one stops at a couple of swigs), you are eating TWO TEASPOONS of sugar.  That's right, just shovel that sugar right into your mouth.  And how much can the body handle at one time?  Only about two teaspoons or 8 grams.  (Per Suicide by Sugar [a book I sent my sister that she will never read -- written by a 70 yo reformed sugar addict with a PhD in nutrition] and the sources cited therein.)  Now here's where I attempt to summarize and oversimplify and lose my sister, because this stuff cannot be explained in a few sentences, and I don't have the PhD in nutrition.  But basically, sugar injects you with a buttload of glucose and fructose, which temporarily increases your serotonin, dopamine and norepinephrine (making you feel all nice -- one reason it's addicting), but also forces your body to draw minerals from the blood stream and secrete insulin in an attempt to bring the body back to homeostasis.  This knocks the blood chemistry all out of whack, causes hypo or hyper glycemia, depletes minerals (and or absorption of minerals you need) like chromium, copper, and magnesium, damages your endocrine system, inhibits your immune system, and causes things like premature aging, cancer, arthritis, leaky gut, inflammation, allergic reaction, asthma, obesity, diabetes, dementia, etc.  (that doesn't begin to cover all the stuff the author says is caused by sugar, but I'm being conservative here).  That's a very short version of a whole book about sugar and nutrition and body function.  There is a reason that cancer patients are told to avoid sugar.  Sugar feeds cancer cells.  That's not really debatable.  So even if you're skeptical about everything else, that alone ought to be enough to make EVERYONE avoid sugar and sweeteners.  And yet....

So that was it.  A very short trip to sugar school, but my attempt to encourage a conscious and determined change in sugar consumption.  Not complete abstinence, but a safe level of sugar consumption of 5 grams or less in any one serving/sitting.  If it has more than that, it will be very tasty and will feel really good, but it is really bad for you.  And if you're trying to lose weight?  Forget about it -- if you can't cut back on the sugar, I don't think it's gonna happen.  Today, I'm passing along advice to eat whole foods and complex carbs like oatmeal (without added sugar), vegetables (ooh, ick!), and for sweetness, WHOLE fruits, not fruit drinks, not even 100% Pom Wonderful fruit juice, but whole frickin' fruit.  Without sugar on it.  (Yes, I've seen a certain sister put table sugar on bananas and strawberries.  WTH?)  Try it, you'll like it.  Okay, maybe you won't like it at first (or even ever, compared to the tasty wonders of modern prepared foods), but it will be SO much better for you.  That gurgling sound is the Pom "Wonderful" going down the sink.

Baby steps.  Really.

Caution: stripper at work.

RRRRR.  Round three.  Or is it four?  I know I'm on my fourth container of paint stripper.  First I scraped.  Then I tried regular stripper.  Then I hit it with "heavy duty" stripper.  But I succeeded in peeling off more of my own skin than the paint on my front steps.  I don't know what someone used on them 80 or so years ago, but it's on there good.  So last night I decided to stop playin' with it and get serious.  (Yes, I have just revealed how exciting my Saturday nights usually are.)  After lots of Googling and two more trips to the hardware store (so far, it's a 4-trip, 2-day job, and it's early yet), I have settled on soy.  Yes, they have done something really unnatural with the soy bean and turned it into a non-toxic stripper.  It supposedly works well, but you have to wait.  Wait?  I suck at waiting.  I'm the definition of haste and impatience.  I can barely wait the 15 minutes for the heavy duty stripper.  So this waiting for HOURS is gonna be tough.

Stripper break.

Okay, I just did a little scrape test and the soy appears to be working.  But, like all good strippers, it only takes off one little layer at a time.  (Look, I just made a stripper joke!!!)  So I have redistributed the soy goo (it's a gel, so think really thick clear snot), and I'm going to sit down with a movie.  Maybe a movie outside with some champagne.  Because life is short. 

Give me patience.

Update:

Well, it's been about 30 minutes since I posted, and, of course, I could not just go sit with a movie.  I immediately went out and scrubbed the soy stripper with a brass brush.  And I think it's working!!!!  And working better than the toxic heavy duty stuff.  Or maybe it's just the wire brush and my greasy elbows.  Either way, I'm thinking I may get this job done in a week or so.  (I love that my original naive estimation was that this could be done in one weekend!  Snort!) 

Plus I didn't have any champagne in the fridge.

Tentaholics is waiting for me.

Okay, I have purchased another tent.  Yes, my apologies, but I have.  You may start the tentervention and report me to tentaholics anonymous.  In my quest for the perfect tent, I have located one that I can set up SOLO in under 2 minutes (staking not included) with minimal effort and it is large (an "8-person," i.e., me and the doggies) and tall enough to walk around in, supposedly water tight (it is either very watertight, or leaks like a sieve, depending on who you believe), but with large mesh windows in the front room, etc.,  so that I can use it as a screen room, and I can put it up quickly enough that I should not need the separate doggie shelter, which is good -- one shelter, not three.

The Coleman Instant 8.

The only downside to this, was the lack of a veranda/vestibule/rain fly -- tent supposedly does not need a rain fly, so it doesn't have one.  But necessary or not, I would prefer to have a fly over the tent door, if not the whole tent  (in case those Instant-8 haters are right).  Plus I want a veranda for sitting, cooking, yoga, whatev.

 

So last night, about 11-2 am, I'm laying there pondering the solution (because that stupid Texidor I was drinking must have sulfites or something in it, because it makes me itchy, and the two cans of pork and beans I ate were working their magic) and it came to me:  I will make my own rain fly.  Yes, I will.  And it will solve all my problems.

Now, I could just use a plain old tarp for this rain fly.  That would be adequate.  Or I could use the 4-pole Coleman rain fly that I already own.  (And I will use the poles from that, anyway.)  But I'm thinkin' -- what a great opportunity for some stripes!  So, I have given it a lot of thought (because I had nothing else going on from 11 p.m. to 4 a.m.) and I am going to make something magical for my new tent.  Something worthy of "Diva camping."  I envision something grand.  (It will probably be more like, WTF?)  And this should be the last of my tents and screen rooms.  I could even send a couple of those things back.  Maybe.  If this works out, I promise to CONSIDER returning the enormous Swiss Gear 8 -man tent and the large Wenzel screen room with a floor and 8 fiberglass poles, both of which I like quite a lot.  (BTW, check out the Sierra Designs Wu Hu  tents -- sweet.)

So that's what I have been doing instead of working out or blogging.  I will keep you posted.

Now that I'm not fat...

...I've got nothin. Nothin at all to say.  The literary well has run bone dry.

Maybe (well, maybe not "maybe," how about definitely?) need to focus on getting some muscle back.  And in the spirit of that, I actually burned some calories last weekend.  I haven't figured out the exact time spent aboat, but I took the doggies kayaking at Fool Hollow Lake last weekend.  Three days of lovely weather and relaxation without the need to launder any laundry or clean up anything that came out of either end of either dog (well, except for one very explosive digestive deal with the Connor dog, but most of that was left to the elements).  I think I spent maybe 5-6 hours on the lake (which is GORGEOUS Fool Hollow photos, by the way).  So, even though I spent a lot of time floating around like I was on a Pirates of the Caribbean ride, I did get in a little exercise. 

And if I could go back every weekend, I'd do it.  It was really lovely to do nothing but eat, sleep, drink, walk the doggies, drink (being honest), and yoga when possible.  Ah, if only.

But reality always intrudes.  Connor passed out again while at the lake and then yet again when we got home, I've got to earn the money to pay the mortgage, and I found out on the way up to the lake that Dad has been diagnosed with colon cancer.  Reality does, indeed, bite.

But here's my resolution (Can I resolve in late September?  Well, I'm a trendsetter.):  I will work out more.  I'm already not eating anything tasty and not going anywhere exciting.  If I have a day where I have to put on mascara, it's a big deal.  I really ought to be able to work out a little bit.  So I'ma make the effort.  Tomorrow.  Or maybe the day after that, or something.

OR, I'll just wear more makeup.

Let me eat "cake."

I still have nothing to say.  So here's more nothing.

It's my b-day month.  And in honor of my birth (and I guess my continued existence), I baked myself a gluten-free, dairy-free, egg-free, chocolate free (mostly) German Chocolate cake!  Kind of reediculous.  Kind of dense.  And kind of...I don't know, but it aged well -- the icing soaked into the cake, so after a few days it was all one dense mass of sweet sticky coconut and sugar with pecans.  Not bad, for a "cake" missing wheat, butter, and eggs!  And, really, the whole point was to create a vehicle for carrying the icing to the mouth.  So MISSION ACCOMPLISHED!

The only downside to my sweet hypo-allergenic "cake," was that my vanishing act was slowed a bit by all the sugar.  I got a touch of "icing butt," or maybe "icing gut."  I even rocketed back up to 105 lbs for a day or two there.  But the giant, gooey, two-layered hockey puck is gone now, and I'm back in light and flabby form. 

Did I mention my light and flabby form required new bras?  Yes, I've lost so much fat, I mean weight, that I had to go look for new bras.  As any woman knows, this SUCKS ROCKS.  But after an hour or so in the Nordstrom's dressing room with the nicest-possible fluorescent lights, three-way mirrors, and continual interruptions from the sales lady ("How's that one working?"  I don't know, because I haven't had a chance to try on the last three frickin' bras you brought me.  Is it just me?  Am I slow?  Or is the sales lady expecting a bra-changing speed that no mortal woman who can't reach those adjusters on the back straps can deliver?), I found two bras.  One even got to come home with me (the other had to be ordered from their Cal. store, but hey, if it fits....).  These bra manufacturers seem to think we're all sporting a couple of cupcakes right in the center of our chests like sports car headlamps.  Or Madonna in the 90s (I think it was the 90s).  Personally, I've got some squidge that suishes out the sides in a way that even I don't want to see.  But Nordstrom Sales Lady and I worked it out and my squidge is now controlled by a lovely Natori contraption.  With an On Gossamer back up on its way.  And, of course, I let myself be talked into a couple pair of unjustifiably-expensive panties.  (I'm wearing them now, so that I can wring every penny's worth out of them.)

Muscles?  No thanks, I'm fine.  But I'm working on them.  Kathy/Sis/Doc and I Skyped yoga last night.  And I even did some strength training a couple of times this week.  (Watch out D.R. Ena -- I might be in shape by the time you get back from Spudsville, Idaho!   Oops, now I want a tater tot.)  Am still only drinking on Sunday nights.  Or birthday nights.  Or special nights, like Tuesdays.  Okay, just kidding.  Still pretty much only on Sunday, and that's because I found myself stressed and cranky from prepping for potluck, so that everyone, and I mean everyone, benefits from my alcohol-based attitude adjustment on Sunday nights. 

Hmmm.  Guess I had more nothing to say than I thought. 

Dear Diary:

I am boring myself.  Yes, all this infection, infestation, and cleaning B.S. is even boring to ME, and I'm living/writing it!  Not exactly la vida loca.  Since I've lost the 10 pounds of mid-life squidge, I have nothing amusing to write about!  I picked 10 pounds as my goal, because I thought it was reasonable/achievable.  I also didn't realize how much I really weighed -- a teeny bit of intentional ignorance going on.  But I've lost almost twice that now.  The New Digital put me at 103.2 this morning, so that's 19 pounds down from my original 122!  No more brown smoothies, no more walks with birds pooping on my head.  Just healthy (boring) eating and cleaning up dog disasters.  I'm hardly even drinking any more.  I can only post about the wonders of Vegan + meat and how I lost those 19 pounds, so many times.  And then even I'm sick of my own preaching.

So what now?  I'm thinking a new blog (which I can't start until 2012, so I can print out the 2011 blogs in one book): "So Far So Flabby: adding two pounds of mid-life muscle."  (Two WHOLE pounds -- I know, it's crazy.)  Now that I'm not carrying the extra squidge, I need to change my flaccid Old Lady arms and legs into something more acceptable.  Oh!  How about: "No longer placid about the flaccid!"  Yes?  No?  I see a blog about facial exercises.   I wonder what I did with those CDs?

Dream big.

The Sleeper Has Awakened.

O. M. G.  Now I'm quoting from Lord of the Rings.  But I don't know what else to say.  No, I'm not working out and getting fit.  Although that may happen eventually.  I imagine that at some point, I'll get down to a layer of house shit that is acceptable and feels like an improvement, so that I can, once again, focus on LIVING my life in my house.  Meanwhile, however, I am prowling the house one room, no, one cabinet/bookcase/closet at a time, cleaning out year and YEARS of "stuff" that I have been keeping.  And for some reason, I can look at this stuff now, and just think, "WTH?  Why was I keeping this?"  Now that I'm not sick and tired all the time, I seem to have more time and energy to just get this stuff done.  And I'm much more motivated than I have been for years.  The piles of "stuff" were just getting to me to the point where I was starting to feel like a hoarder, and I am determined to get it all cleaned up and put away and have room to spare for more junk.  That's the plan anyway.  Plus then everything will be easier to clean, so I'll have less dust, thus making my life and health betterer.  Bonus.

Last weekend I cleaned out half the kitchen and dining room cabinets.  This week, I am improving my office with new, grown-up storage (a secretary and a nice wooden lateral file cabinet).  After that, I'm going to refinish the vintage oak office furniture in a nice ebony finish, and, voila, new and improved office.  It's about frickin' time.  And did I mention I just bought new office and home phones?  That was long overdue as well.

Lest anyone get the impression that I'm going to be really clean and organized in short order, I'm looking at a serious pile of camping crappola taking up half my guest room.  And there's more in the car.  So that will need to be sorted and stored.  (I was hoping to camp again, but after Connor passed out on my last trip, the vet says he has pulmonary arterial hypertension, and shouldn't go to altitude.  So camping is out for the immediate future.  Dang it.  I had a birthday yoga retreat and literary fest planned for next week.  Canceled.   But maybe I can do something on a smaller scale at home.)  And don't get me started on the backyard -- I'd clean that all up, but first I have to sort through the shed and the art studio out back.  Both of them are a total mess, but I can't touch them until the weather cools off again, so we're looking at October, probably.  So I won't be done soon.

BUT, when I AM done, there will be scads of room to breathe and yoga, and strength train, and....

Well, Hell, now I'm wondering if I'm just cleaning/organizing to avoid working out.

The exorcism.

Technically, this exorcism took place before my last post.  As I closed my front door to go camping at WCL, I held my breath to avoid inhaling the fog of neurotoxins I had left for my Leetle Friends, the dozens of flies swarming in my living room and kitchen windows.  Leetle ba$tards.  I'm not sure when this started, but over the preceding 2-3 weeks I had noticed an increasing number of flies in my kitchen.  Didn't bother me much at first -- I leave my kitchen door open a lot so that the dogs can go in and out, and with potluck on Sunday nights and everyone going in and out, I get flies.  They seem to know when you are going to open the door and manage to zip in during the nanosecond that you part the curtain to go in or out.  They have ODR - Open Door Radar.  Again -- LBs.

But eventually I noticed an unusual build up of flies.  One night I had to light a citronella tea light while sitting in bed reading a book!  Okay, THAT's not cool.  And it's not normal.  So I started shutting the door more, and being pyscho-diligent about picking up the fresh dog poop out back.  But it didn't seem to help.  I even started cleaning up my normal messes -- no crumbs left behind on the counter, the floor, whatever, wherever.  Nothing was working.

When I came back from the Fool's Hollow trip and found a maggot on the floor of my kitchen, I decided to get serious.  In the course of vacuuming and bleaching my kitchen and bathroom floors, I found their evil breeding ground:  the very edge of my wool rug jammed up next to the kitchen cabinets and a tiny crack between the base of the cabinets and the floor.  I thought flies needed water to breed, but this was apparently some mutant breed of LBs that needed only dog fur, cooking crumbs, and wool rug.  So I spent hours vacuuming up  maggots, larvae and whatever that last cocoon stage is before they hatch, and then hitting the kitchen floor with ammonia, diatomaceous earth, and  bleach (not all at once, you understand).  

After this maggoty adventure, I was grossed out, but feeling a bit better about my chances with the demon swarm.  I had destroyed the nursery (Sigourney Weaver, Aliens).  Unfortunately, the adults were still here.  They were crafty LBs, managing to elude capture with my Eureka AirExtreme (although I DID get pretty good with it in the kitchen windows).  I foolishly thought that they would die quickly, because I've always heard that flies only live for like a day or two.  Wrong.  I looked it up and they can live for weeks.  Ouch.  And females can lay like 500 eggs in a single day.  Double frickin' ouch.  So after days of vacuuming up maybe 5-6 flies at a time about 10 times a day, I decided I was losing the battle of the flies.  And since I was about to leave town for two days and I didn't want them breeding with impunity in my absence, I needed to get rid of them fast.

This required a more efficient killing machine than the AirExtreme.  So a trip to WalMart was in order.   (I tried Target, but apparently Target shoppers don't GET fly infestations.)  WalMart, however, was a gold mine of fly-killing power.  Fly paper -- 4 rolls for $.99.  Check.  (I got three boxes.)  And I couldn't resist the clear peel-and-stick window trappers.  (The LBs LOVE windows, yes they do.)  I was about to walk away, thinking I was good, when I saw the spray.  A beautiful blue can of Raid for killing LBs.  Hmmm.  Did I really need it?  Why take chances.

So I zoom home with my new weapons and start my offensive on the Northern Front (the living room windows).  This required unrolling/untwisting four rolls of VERY sticky stuff.  And then promptly sticking my hair into one of them.  Ew.  Let me just say, that I'm glad I'm not a fly.  That is some sticky sh!t.  I was trying to work that day, so I thought I could just spot treat the hair with some shampoo and water.  Nope.  Two attempts failed.  I ultimately had to resort to Goo Gone on my hair.  Sigh.

When the fly paper in the front window (very attractive) wasn't producing immediate results, I turned to the spray.  And Raid did not let me down.  I don't know what evil kind of neurotoxins they put in that stuff, but it WORKS.  Indeed, you don't even have to spray the flies directly -- the residual stuff in the air will kill them for hours.  And if you spray the windows, I've found that the residual on the window will kill them for days.  Yes, that's some toxic stuff.

I thought I had gotten lots of them before I left, but to be sure, before I closed the door to leave for WCL, I sprayed all the rooms with a mist of the magical Raid LB killer.  Man, you would not believe how many LB carcasses I found when I returned on Sunday -- about 40 on the fly paper strips and another 60 victims in the kitchen and other areas.  At least 100 of the LBs.  FINALLY.  

I found only one survivor on Sunday, so I gave the windows another spritz to be sure, and have only seen one or two random LBs since then.  Whew.  Disgusting, I know, but yet another valuable life lesson.  I wish life would quit teaching me sh!t I don't want to know.

What else do I know?  I'm still shrinking.  I've been successful with treating my health issues by avoiding the dairy, egg and wheat and using CeraVe for my atopic dermatitis.  I'm sleeping better, I'm breathing better, my allergic rhinitis is virtually gone, and I'm dropping even more weight than I had ever planned.  I'm down to 104-105.  Wow.  Remember when I was thrilled to be at 110?!  I've worked through most of the cravings for dairy, etc.  And I finally got to the point where I've been able to skip the alcohol as well -- food allergist Dr. Braly recommends avoiding alcohol to let the intestines heal (alcohol makes the intestines more permeable, thus permitting larger food particles to pass into the blood stream, contributing to the allergic reaction).  And since I'm trying to shake some bacterial overgrowth (aka an infection) in the genital tract (gardnerella and strep B) and I continue to have sinus infections deep up inside my nasal passages, I figure it's a good idea to avoid the alcohol for a while and let my temple get all healthy.  Anyone who knows me knows how improbable this is -- I like my alcohol about as much as LBs like windows.  So I thought this was going to be really tough.  But, other than the first few days, I haven't been missing it that much.  I've been avoiding party atmospheres a bit, but I don't think even that is going to be a problem.  We'll see.  And speaking of C, Dr. Braly, my new hero, says that vitamin C helps with withdrawal and cravings for allergens and alcohol -- so how can I go wrong drinking Emergen C instead of champagne?  It seems to work well.  Not quite as much fun, but this is for my long term health and I am determined.  Once again, research and perseverance and a healthy skepticism of the accepted view that all doctors know everything has served me well -- literally!

So I continue to get healthier and accidentally skinnier, and now I can focus on the real excitement in my life, like exorcising LBs from my place of residence.  OUT damned spots!

I'm keeping the Raid handy for future infestations -- just in case.  Watch out LB's I'm armed.

P.S.  Hard to keep the house maggot-free when the backyard cat is killing birds and leaving parts and the two dogs, independently on different days, find the nasty leftover bird bits and decided to bring them into the house for a snack, maggots and all.  Again -- sigh.  I had to bury the remaining maggoty bird leg and some feathers in the 108F afternoon heat.  I need a condo on the 75th floor somewhere.  One that excludes pets.

Kayaks be me. And Lola. And Julie and Molly.

As planned, I took the doggies camping AGAIN.  This time we tried Woods Canyon Lake, which is an hour closer to Phoenix than Fool's Hollow, and a little higher, so it was actually cooler (got to wear long pants in July - yeah!) than our last trip.  And less windy.  Thank the Baby Jeezus for that!

So this trip was much easier -- two hour drive, I've already got the car half packed (because I left most of the stuff in the car from last time), and I'm all prepared with my new, front-yard-tested Alps Moutaineering tri-awning, which beat the Kelty medium Shadehouse structure all to Heck for ease of solo set up and functionality.  Met up with friend Julie and her dog Molly at the check-in hut around noon Friday and proceeded to set up. (Wound up setting up two separate and, it turned out, unnecessary, camp sites, because we thought another friend was joining us for Saturday night.  [They have a two car maximum per site.]  So I had this lovely HUGE camp site all to myself.  Well, me and the doggies, anyway.)

My first visitor?  A big ol' elegant elk.  She was beautiful.  And tall.  You can't really appreciate it in these photos, but she was a pretty tall girl.

So, once I got over the whole "Wow, there's an elk in my camp." thing, I set up all the shit.  The tri-awning is smaller in square footage than the Embark square shade, but the ability to set it up solo more that makes up for any size limitation.  In fact, it's so cool, that I ordered a second one (being shipped to me as I type) to set up next to it, and make a veritable domed wonderland!  WHO's got the most shade in camp?  That would be me.

Here's the WCL camp:

So that's the excitement for the first day/night.  Julie came over and we hung out and roasted marshmallows, which gave Lola (previously in my lap, but still tied to my chair) a chance to attack.  Under cover of darkness, Lola attempted to murder, or at least seriously intimidate, poor Molly, who had done nothing to deserve such treatment.  Fortunately, between Julie and the leash and the chair, we were able to wrangle the insane toy poodle into submission without any damage to Molly.  But Lola still gave Molly the evil eye and the occasional rabid-poodle-charge for the rest of the trip.  (I'd really love to know what kind of life Lola had for the 10 years before I got her.  She got issues.)

Saturday was yoga and go-to-the-lake day.  Gorgeous day, with fluffy clouds in the blue sky.  I hit the lake and tried my new solo sit-on-top inflatable kayak, which is not as fast as a regular kayak and more susceptible to wind, but oodles easier to transport and store.  And it was fun!

And Lola was a trooper again.  She's not a big water dog, but her fear of my permanent departure is so curiously strong (Altoid, anyone?), that she will risk death, or at least a little sun and water, to be with me.

Land-loving Lola on a break.

So it was a beautiful morning at the lake.  I saw a crawfish eat a small frog.  (I'd show you the photo, but all I got was a picture of a stick under water -- it was sunny and I couldn't see the screen, what can I say.)  And then a gorgeous blue heron came by to fish.  He was there again on Sunday too and was too cool soaring above the lake.

I got about two hours of exercise in (Did I mention it was NOT as windy as Fool's Hollow?  And I think the new kayak would be less susceptible to the wind than the inflatable row boat.) before heading back to join Julie and Molly for lunch.  

And then our friend Mary J. came by for a glass of wine and a long walk BACK to the lake (it's right around the corner by car, but is a decent hike on foot), so we got some exercise in before it began to rain.  The afternoon was just a light rain (with excellent lightning and thunder) and we were all dry under the tri-awning.  Mary headed back to Phoenix, Julie went back to her camp, and the doggies and I ate, and walked and read, etc. until marshmallow roasting time (there was a break in the rain just at the right time, so we burned the rest of our firewood).  And then the wind ushered in the serious rain, and it was time to head to the tents.  My new tent and awning got their first test by rain and passed with flying colors.  I couldn't even hear my ipod with all the rain noise!  Very nice.

Connor trying to get me up for his breakfast.

Lola and I trying NOT to get up.

I meant to yoga with the Ye again on Sunday morning, but stayed up too late reading The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo (still didn't finish the frickin' thing), so I was tired when the Connor dog went off at 5 am and demanded a walk (which he got, but then I went back to bed and TRIED to sleep).  I finally gave up at 6:30 am and dragged Connor into bed with us in an attempt to shut off his continuous autobark feature. 

I didn't think we'd get any more kayaking in, but Julie was actually up for it on Sunday and she took Molly out and then I took Lola out for a spin on the lake before we packed it in and packed it up.

Here's Julie kayaking with Molly:

Molly seems to be more of a sea dog than Lola!

So that was it.  Or so I thought.  The last bit of excitement happened at literally the moment of my departure.  I was walking Connor to the car and couldn't figure out why he was walking kind of diagonally.  Until he collapsed, had a few seizures, and passed out.  HOLY SHEE-ITE!  I thought my beloved Connor Dog was dead.  Really and truly dead.  He was completely limp, he was not breathing, nothing.  I grabbed Connor and put him into the back of the car (had to throw Crazy Butt back into her front seat to get her out of the way, but she knew I wasn't messing around) and didn't know what to do other than give him mouth-to-muzzle.  And I don't know if the M-T-M worked, or if he would have come around anyway, but after what seemed like a long time (and was really probably 30-60 seconds), Connor came around, put his head up, and had a few more seizures, but at least wasn't dead!  Thank GOD.  The seizures stopped after maybe another minute.  I gave Connor's head a wet down to make sure he was cool, gave him a big bowl of water, which he did start drinking, and he was fine.  Connor was back home and trying to eat his own poop within a couple of hours.  Tragedy averted.  Man, that would have been a bad camping result.  I thought maybe he had a stroke, but my sister said it was probably low blood pressure combined with the altitude.  Makes sense -- I also have low blood pressure and was dizzy myself while de-camping with all the bending over and then standing up.

Anyhoo, that's it from kind-of-damp camp. 

And what up with the squidge, you ask?  Well, the squidge is disappearing at an alarming and highly-pleasing rate.  Since I stopped eating dairy, eggs and wheat (the V + M diet) and eating almost nothing but fruit, vegetables, and some meat, all the fat has just melted away and I'm down to 105.6.  Yep.  My fighting weight from the late 20s before I got all squidgy.  Wow.  How cool is that?  Only downside so far is I have to get new bras!  (As my GP told me years ago when I asked why my boobs were getting bigger: "Well, they're all fat, you know."  Thanks.  Beeotch.)  But, since I got rid of my eczema, rhinitis, weird skin issues and other food-allergen reactions, I started focusing on other things, and it turns out I have a chronic strep and gardnerella infection and maybe that accounts for my chronic fatigue.  Anyway, I decided that in light of those continuing issues, I would cave in and do what Dr. Braly (the food allergist who wrote the book that saved my life:  Hidden Food Allergies) recommends, which is to STOP drinking all alcohol for three months and use probiotics to heal my gut.  So instead of taking a bottle of champagne (I specifically bought a cooler tall enough to house a bottle or two), I drank my green tea and Emergen-C over the weekend.  In fact, I kicked off Alcohol Abstinence on July 5 (the 4th was out of the question).  I've already gone one week with no alcohol -- only three days short of my personal best  So I'm hoping that my immune system will come back to life and kick some bad bacteria ass.  Wish me luck.  Cuz I don't think it's going to be easy.  I mean really, my last and only vice?  Dang it.

Summer 2011: In Which I Give Mother Nature a Second and a Third Chance.

When last I blogged, I was fresh off of getting my (now skinny) ass kicked by Mother F'n Nature at Dead Horse Ranch State Park.  (I know how the horse died.)  Whilst getting said ass kicking, an RVer suggested I try Fool's Hollow Lake State Park (it's actually called Fool Hollow Lake, but that's idiotic and I cannot bring myself even to type it) in Show Low, AZ.  Nuff said.  I booked within two days of my brutal Dead Horse experience.  I didn't realize when I booked, that the largest wildfire in AZ history had started just two days earlier.  By the time of my Fool's Hollow reservation, the fire had consumed over 500,000 acres.  But since it was 60 miles to the East and the wind was blowing East....  Plus I was assured by Park staff that all was well at Fool's Hollow.  And they did not lie.


 

So off we went.  Connor dog and car full of necessary camping crap:  check.




Lola dog in copilot seat:  check.  Let's go.

 





We're driving.  And we're driving.  And....three hours later.  Bingo.  Fool's Hollow Lake.

And I have to say, it is really lovely.  Check out the view from my campsite:

 















Not bad for summer in Arizona.  Pine trees.  Shade.  Water.  What more could any camper want?

I must admit, it was super windy and a bit warm in the afternoons.  But having been battered and baked (like some chicken from the 1970s) in the Easy Bake tent every afternoon at Dead Horse, I was READY.  I planned on being outside (ick, usually) and I brought a shade structure to make that possible.  And since I'm kind of reviewing camping equipment now, let me say that I took the Embark (cheapo) shade structure, available at Target and many other places -- I'm sure I Amazoned (I just added that term to my dictionary, thank you) mine.  And while it worked quite well once I had 8 guy lines firmly staking the corners,  there is no way in H E double toothpicks that I could have put this thing up alone.  I fought the BADly-designed EVIL plastic corner connectors (just like the ones that broke on my SUV tent screen room) for about 15 minutes trying to raise this thing in the wind. Easy to put together, yes.  But every time you let go of one leg to put up another, the first leg flops to the ground immediately, because without the guy lines staked, there is nothing to hold it in place.  And I could not get the leg pole pins into the grommets with my puny old muscles.  In the end, it took one guy from Mesa and his two kids to help me put this stupid thing up.  (I must look really sad and desperate when camping.  Not sure what's going on there, but I did appreciate the help.)  Once UP, however, this thing withstood 40 mph winds (more about those winds later) for two days with barely a shudder.  I had to laugh when, sitting under my Embark shade structure later that first evening, I watched the peeps on the other side of my camp trying to force a mangled Easy-Up shade structure into some sort of  pretzel shape small enough to fit into the camp dumpster.  Hah!  Deja vu all over again.  I wonder how many of those pieces of...end up in camp dumpsters?  I hope they recycle.

So my shade is up.  Oh, and while I'm reviewing shade products.  I was able to snag an instant beach shelter from my local Costco for only $26.  They are $60+ on the web site, so I figure I got a deal and who cares if it cracks up in the first breeze.  And it really does go up instantly.  Really.  Instantly.  And I would not have purchased this for my own sake, but I figured it would be good for stashing two annoyingly clingy doggies while trying to set up and take down camp.  It's about 3-4' high and a half dome deal, but it has a built-in floor that was critical to my attraction.  Awesome.  It worked perfectly (needs to be staked or held down with heavy rocks) and kept the doggies comfy and out of my hair while keeping weeds and bugs out of theirs.  

And while I'm praising new products....  The  Coghlans tent stake mallet and puller  I picked up at REI for $4 was worth every penny and then some.  I was an idiot to omit a mallet for the Dead Horse trip -- mallet = good; rocks = bad for putting in tent stakes.

Okay, so we've got doggie shade, people shade and a tent.  Did I forget the tent?  I put that up first, and really, next time, I think maybe I'll do the shade structure first.  But whatever.  The Alps Mountaineering four-man tent I ordered from Sierra Trading Post while the SUV tent was still smoking was really comfy.   Much smaller (I couldn't do yoga inside the tent), but comfy and adequate for myself, a twin cot and two doggies. More importantly, it was a breeze to set up.  No sliding poles through sleeves -- you just clip the tent to the frame.  Sturdy aluminum poles in a space alien configuration that doesn't look like it should work, but does, and a nice rain fly that creates vestibules front and back.   Came with nice aluminum stakes. Very sweet.  And it's an odd shape -- taller at front where you walk in, making it easy to walk in, and then lower in the back.  So you don't get to stand and walk around in there.  But, aside from getting dressed, you don't really need to. So that's good.  I felt secure.  Here's a view of my set up at Camp-Not-Nearly-So-Hot-and-I-Laugh-at-the-Wind:

And I have already learned many camping lessons.  Like bring a freakin' rug for the front of the tent, unless you like dirt, rocks, weeds, and other crud in your tent.  And stake everything securely.  And don't rely on the cheapo stakes they give you with whatever you're putting up.  I made a mistake in leaving behind my new 2 gal water jug with spigot -- I lost all the cool from my cooler by repeatedly opening it to get water.  Oops.  Next time -- take the jug.  I'm already freezing like a 1/2 gallon of water into a huge cube for the water jug.  So I anticipate having ice cold water that will make my teeth chatter after two days on my next trip.  And I thought I'd try a cot to save space instead of the usual full size air mattress.  Um...not bad.  But not great.  I was able to sleep okay on it, but I wouldn't rate it as really comfy.  There's no getting around the narrow frame.  And I'm not even wide.  And by the time you pack the Thermarest-type pad to make the cot work, you might as well just take the air bed -- its takes up the same space, or less, and about the same amount of time.  Forget the cot.  It's going to consignment.

So, enough gear reviews.  Are you bored yet?  (OH!  I forgot the butane stove and the Coghlans wind shield!  Both excellent.  Fire restrictions prohibited wood or charcoal, so it was a good thing I bought a butane burner and enough cans of gas for about ten of my lifetimes of camping trips.  The wind shield was very handy when trying to heat up dinner.  So all good.)  Well here's where we get to the exciting part.  I bought a boat.  Not a big boat.  Some might even say not a real boat.  But a boat nonetheless.  I bought the Intex Seahawk 2 inflatable row boat, because it came with the oars and a pump and everything for only $46.99.  Not kidding, $46.99 delivered.  So how can I go wrong?  I was all excited when I launched it in my swimming pool and took an unenthused Lola for a spin.  In her new pink polka dot life vest.  She's not a real water dog (which is kind of weird, because poodles were originally water hunting dogs from Germany or something), but she tolerated the trip, and she looks pretty cute in the life vest.  So I figured this would be a breeze.  I was swamped by a wave of nostalgia for those old row boats being pulled across the lake by a young man in a striped jacket with a lazy chick (with a parasol, of course) in the other end.  In my scenario, I guess I'm the guy in the striped jacket, and Lola...well, you get the idea.  I even brought an umbrella in case Lola got hot in the sun.  But it was too breezy (yes, here we go) and Lola was fine in one of my sun hats.

Saturday morning, I'm sitting in my shade (yes, lots of nice shade) and thinking that it's so nice at camp, I should stay and read all morning and go boating in the afternoon.  But then I notice that there's already a nice breeze and I remember my Dead Horse beating and the set up of the shade structure the previous afternoon, and I wisely decide to hit the lake first.  By 9 a.m., I'm at the boat ramp being ridiculed while inflating my boat with a hand pump.  And may I say, that while the jackhole that was making smart comments probably thought it was going to be a lot of hard work to inflate Lola's Folly, that pump and my sturdy Intex watercraft worked like a charm and I was ready to launch within 10 minutes.  I give the boat design and construction 5 stars for ease of use, comfort, (I could give them some style pointers), and convenience. Not to mention price. Again, what can possibly go wrong?  Lola's suited up and we launch.  

Lola, ready to launch.

Right away, I'm literally in the weeds, because I really have never rowed a row boat.  If I have, I certainly cannot recall it.  My grandparents had a pond where we used to swim, but I spent most of my time screaming and crying while my brother tried to drown me.  It's so nice to grow up.

It took me a while to get the hang of rowing.  And maybe it was just me, but the dang thing didn't seem to want to go straight -- no matter what I tried, I almost always had to alternate a double stroke with an extra stroke on my left side.  Go figure.  I couldn't.  And while I'm at it, I probably should have looked up the proper way to row a row boat, because you really need a lazy chick in the stern (see how nautical I am?) to tell you where you're going.  Yes, you're supposed to sit in the bow with your back to where you're going and stroke backwards.  You get lots more leverage, which I would need later on.  But I didn't figure that out right away.  I got that information much later in the trip from a nice couple in an inflatable canoe/kayak with their two dogs.  Again, my inexperience must have been highly visible.  But on this first part of the tour, I was going with the wind and the current of the lake and all I really had to do was keep the boat far enough from shore to avoid pissing off the anglers.  The hardest part was really making myself relax -- I mean, the plan was the journey in this case, not the destination, which is unusual in my normal travel experience.  I had to keep telling myself that I wanted to go slow.  Weird.

My plan was to make it around the lake to my camp, walk up and check on Connor (and apply lip gloss, since I had left mine in the car at the boat ramp) and then row back around to the boat ramp.  About an hour in a slow boat later, I located my shade structure, parked the boat (docked?  what do you call it when you pull it up on shore?  I guess, pulling it up on shore.) 

Here is Lola arriving at camp.  Doesn't she look like a happy camper/boater?  I love this shot.

So Lola and I said "Hey" to sleepy Connor dog, applied lip gloss (oops, did NOT apply lip gloss, because it was in my purse in the car at the boat dock), put on a rash guard shirt (full on sun and I knew the trip back would be more than one hour), and started back.  By this time, it had to be between 10:30 and 11 a.m. and the wind had picked up a bit.  Frankly, I was concerned that I would be able to make any headway at all trying to row against the wind and current.  Really.  Wasn't sure that would happen.  But it did at first.  I was making headway even before I got the tip that I was rowing the boat from the wrong end and going butt-first into the wind.  And once I got the leverage provided by rowing backwards from the bow, I felt pretty powerful.  But then I approached the corner.  The lake takes a 90-degree turn about 2/3rds of the way back to the boat ramp.  And the frickin' wind was blowing around that corner (the lake is basically a canyon of boulders) at a pretty good clip.  (Some people from Mesa who were making a RAPID exit early Sunday morning said that the wind was 40 mph on Saturday -- so it's not just wimpy me.)  So there I am.  Rowing.  And rowing.  And frickin' rowing.  And I make it to the corner where some kids are jumping off of large boulders kind of staring at me while I'm cussing and yelling at Lola to "MOVE" every time I try to stroke without smacking her pointy little poodle head.  And not only am I not gaining ground, but I'm spinning around every 5-6 strokes and cussing more while I try to correct my course while looking frickin' backwards and not hitting the poodle, and I'm being blown to the far side of the lake.  Shit.  The funny part though, is that Lola seems to really be enjoying this part of the ride in particular.  She's sitting there with the wind in her face and her poodle hair blowing in the wind (she's overdue for a cut) with the biggest doggie smile you've ever seen.

I conclude I am not going to make it.  And I'm not a quitter.  I like to think I can do anything.  But at this point, I've been rowing for something like 2-2.5 hours in the sun with no muscles and a poodle in my way.  I'm tired.  I'm beat.  And I'm heading for the boulders.  If I thought I could have made it around the corner closer to the shore line, I would have gone for it, but it wasn't working.  I wound up giving up a few yards  of progress just to get to the shore line, where I managed to stick the Titanic on some rocks.  Which, by the way were covered with slime.  So there I am trying to unstick and port the African Queen and poodle along the shore line of enormous boulders.  This requires walking over slimey boulders on which bare feet could find NO purchase.  I'm talkin' slime.  And when boulders weren't available, it required swimming with one arm while pulling the boat with poodle in the other hand against the wind.  I'd like to say I just clenched the tow rope in my teeth and swam the corner, but I didn't, because I had no tow rope.  Yes, it was ugly.  And another jackhole on one of the boulders kept asking me if I wanted some help.  And "Is the water cold?"  What exactly did he think he was going to do for me?  It's not like he could grab part of the rope and help me walk it around the shore line, since that was impossible -- I was swimming with it at that point and he's sitting on his boulder all dry watching me almost drown while towing a poodle in a row boat with one hand.  Since I was making headway at that point, and my only problem was being annoyed by chatty jackholes on boulders, I declined his offer of help.

In the end, I made it around the corner, where amazingly, the wind was no longer hurricane force, but maybe just a minor gale, and I was able to get back in the boat and continue my struggle to the boat ramp using my very lame-ass rowing "style."  Since it was only about 1p.m. when I made it past the crowds of jeering day-users fishing and swimming off the docks, I could certainly have dropped my handy little boat anchor (this former Girl Scout was prepared, thank you -- well, except for the wind thing) and just lounged and recovered for a while.  But I was done.  I de-flated the SS Minnow ("...a three hour tour....") and chatted with my counterpart (another middle-aged woman with the similar Sevylor inflatable row boat and a yappy dog in an orange life vest and doggie visor) and compared boats and wind stories.  But she brought a husband with a motorized pontoon boat and he drove her boat/dog/largish-ass in.  Cheater.

Naps all around!

I spent the afternoon lying in the shade (okay, I napped -- Naps for everyone!), reading my kindle, and drinking champagne.  The end.  

Not really, of course.  I spent an uneventful night watching a movie on my tent wall with a portable projector.  You can't have enough crap when comfort camping.  That's part of the drill.  I did yoga (again -- I did it Saturday am) Sunday morning, which made the whole trip worth it, since I never would have done yoga twice at home, and then spent an hour or two taking everything down.  I actually might have stayed longer to read (I made a lot of headway on The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo), but the fools at the Hollow kick your butt out at noon.

So that's it.  So long from camp.

I have already ordered an inflatable sit-on-top kayak for my next trip.  July 8-10:  Canyon Woods Lake.  Or is it Woods Canyon Lake?  I can never remember.  Three geographical features in one name.  What could go wrong.