Bat Country Living, Yee Haw!

Bought a farmhouse in the country! 

Get the bats out. Let the cleaning begin. Kilz the mold. Bring the bed in.

A party with a fire. A fire with friends.

It's all an adventure. With a hole in the ceiling as a jumping off--

Point.

The yard needs a mowing. The tractor has a flat. 

Again, have I mentioned the colony of bats?

Through rotted fascia, to a comfy batcave, getting lost in the walls, finding home in the crawlspace, under the kitchen, next to a musty dirt pantry. This is life, for Dan and me.

We built a wall. A spackling, I begin. Doors here. Doors there. New doors everywhere.

Paint it. Paint it all. Just keep plugging until we fall.

Its coming clear. Actually, its all coming near. 

We move in two days. New job starts Monday! 

So, ready or not, we are here.

DON'T FORGET THE TOILET PAPER BAG!

Grand Canyon Adventure

Day One - Travel

It’s morning. I mean, morning, morning; like 5 a.m. We are up and at 'em, movable-like, but only stumbling awake. 

The sounds of a Monty Python documentary play in the background as I search for whatever it is I fear I am forgetting. 

“Did I,” followed by dot, dot, dot, floats in my head. Normally it’s the usual suspects like toothbrush, passport, license, cash, etc. 

Instead I find myself wondering if I packed a plastic bag to hold wadded toilet paper for outdoor toilet time.

For the record I did forget a bag. I made do. 

PACKING ITEMS:

Water Bottles

Hiking Boots

Long Sleeved Shirts

Favorite Hiking Shorts

Sunscreen

Tweezers

Bandages (Just in Case!)

Water Shoes

Camera

"Over the Edge" Grand Canyon Death Toll Book

LOTS of Socks

Why do I feel like I'm forgetting something?

LATER

We forgot the informational packet with the Hualapai Lodge address as well as directions. Google maps is a saving grace. 

This time.

Who Gives the Stink Eye to Runners?

I'm running to Dunn Bros from our house to check on my collage exhibition. It's 1.5 miles away. More importantly, it's hot.

I'm really not feeling this running thing. But gosh darn it, I'm going to make it there and back! I sound much more adamant than you should believe. Why? Because I asked Dan to come looking for me if I wasn't back in an hour.

Puffing and heaving with no fluid motion in sight I make it to Dunn Bros. Finally air conditioning! The smell of coffee beans in the air. I peruse my art. Make some notes. Looks good. 

What else is there left to do? I can only fiddle around for so long. Fine. Gripe to self. Start running back.

I take off! The wind not touching my hair and sunshine beating down on my back. I'm one street crossing away from the path that leads me home. Sweet home. I look both ways. Clear as a whistle. I start wobbly running across the street when I feel an unexpected breeze. A truck has whipped around the corner and suddenly I'm almost body planted in his grill. Does the guy with wrap around sunglasses, polo shirt and red beard even see me?

Not until I screamed in fear! He looked in surprise. Then made a disgusted face and peeled off.

I mean, it's hard enough running, as I've expressed, but if I continually have to worry not just about getting squashed by inconsiderate drivers, but about receiving the stink eye because they didn't see me, I'm going to get a dang complex here.

Point of the story, it's difficult enough to run, but when you make a face at me, it hurts my feelings.

Start seeing runners and save my fragile ego. Or something like that.

And dude with the tude, you suck.

A Garden Metaphor Perhaps

Im starting to think a garden is, of course life, but more so all different ideas of what a life can and will be.

Like my garden, in its current existence, contains cut off milk cartons, plants leaning heavily to one side, strangling themselves because I planted too close, the roots are busted, vines growing on the lawn chair, peed on by our dog and for some reason covered in sap. Heck, Dan just sneezed right on the beans twice.

But they are growing like a child being fed non steroid food- a steady and healthy pace with no sudden allergies to wheat.

Gardens take all different shapes just as life and goodness can grow anywhere. Including the patio of a town home in Oakdale, Minnesota. 

MY KAYAK WENT BACKWARDS

I had rocks in my shoes.

I hit several trees.

Waded butt deep twice.

Floated backwards while paddling in forward motion.

Saw a baby otter swim across the river to his very vocal mother who thought us loons for swooning over them and getting stuck on trees.

Hit canyon walls.

Stuck on sand bars and rocks.

I said words I shouldn't have.

Accidentally sprayed sunscreen in my eye.

Kayaking is fun.

***We rented through River Guide Kayaks. They are a fledgling company with lots of heart and a soda in hand for us when we finished. They also were half the price of the other company in town and carried our kayaks to the river for us.

www.riverguidekayaks.com/

 

Kayak spelled backwards is kayak. I need to stop writing the word kayak.

 

KAYAK!  

BRING ME TO THE BATCAVE

I'm going to take a swim in Havasu Falls. All that magnesium that makes the water so blue has got to be helpful to my digestive tract, eh?

I imagine I will be kicking my little legs in a swimming fashion behind the falls, crawling up the slick rocks to find the rock shelter known to be hidden by the falling waters.

I hope there are no bats. Hate bats. But if there are, it will still be worth it.

You know how I know,  because in Idaho we trekked up a mountain in search of healing hot springs. As we struggled with lung pressure, heights and a quick acclimation to altitude, we continually heard, "15 more minutes!" from our momentarily disowned friend as we wondered out loud, "Why are we doing this?" 

We made it. We healed.

But behind those healing springs was it's water source; a dark, mossy cave of wonder. I pushed aside the concerns of what was swimming in those waters or hiding in that soft moss and crawled in.

The warm water dripped from the ceiling splashing our faces and hair. Laughs escaped our throats covered in sheer joy and exhilaration.

A memory of my mother falling into the cave with a huge smile plastered on her face will never be forgotten. Of course, I have a photograph to back that up.

Now we are starting our workout preparations for another trek, this time into a canyon which houses those magnesium falls and another potential cave of wonder...

Or Batman's home.  

GRAND CANYON it is!

Goodbye Okinawa...

Hello GRAND CANYON!

Don't worry readers, I haven't gone far. Just taking a break before diving back into the Compulsive World that I inhabit.

Know trips are in planning process, put on cards, and work is a constant movement to pay with a flurry all that is to happen this year.

It's an exciting time, people. You won't be left out.

Time to see the world!