Friday, June 21, 2013

A Three-Hour Tour

I won't go into a whole play by play of our yesterday, but that doesn't mean this post will be succinct.

We did go on a hike and we did see some wildlife:

We saw bison...two herds actually.

OK, it was probably just one but with some space between the groups.

And a Bull Elk...just a few feet off the trail (maybe 100 feet away...but that could be totally wrong because my distance estimations are horrid...just ask Mr. Always Random).

Photo provided by our trip's Senior Photographer
And a couple marmots.

And L.O.T.S. of pikas.

And some tree swallows.

And an flew right over us.

And we saw some loons in the lake.

Please withhold all jokes...I know it may be difficult, but try to control yourself. You probably won't come up with anything I haven't already thought of.

And God only knows what other animals we missed, or who were simply hiding from us, along our hike.

As Mr. Always Random observed, "How close are we to death?"

Kind of frames it for you, doesn't it?

Speaking of our hike, I'm certain you want to know how far we traversed on our Day 2. Well, I will have you know that we went 8 miles.

Yes, you read that right. And even the 10 and 12yos hiked it.

I won't say it was without complaint...because that would be lying.

We knew it was going to be longer than a "three hour tour" but that didn't make it fact, it only took 4 hours and 40 minutes.

But feel free to hum the Gilligan's Island theme song...I know I was. In my head. Because if I did it out loud, that would make me like the 10yo. Who kept wanting to whistle.

Which makes it difficult to see skittish wildlife.

He wasn't horrible about it. But we did have to tell him to stop once or twice.

But I digress...

Mountain hiking (and must I remind a higher altitude, no less) is not the same as hiking in uber-flat Indiana.

Our baseline of "Easy" on the assessment of the hiking trail need to be re-calibrated (as my dad put it) of Indiana calibration and onto Wyoming calibration.

We're still the time we head for home, we'll have it all figured out, I'm sure.

I'm sure...

But after the hike, as we poured ourselves into the car, we were discussing our dinner plans.

Because if you've ever vacationed with us (or even traveled with us at all), we eat about every two hours...whether we need to or not.

And it had been a few hours since we'd eaten. The linings of our stomachs were beginning to devour themselves.

For reals. (BTW...did I spell that right, or does the hip saying have a hip spelling as well? Frankly, I don't really care...if you even understand what I mean, we're doing ok.)

So we planned to pick up dinner, but only some of us were able to walk so some stayed at the car and some went forging.

I asked Mr. Always Random (before we got too far into the process and ordered the food and all...I was in no mood to wash dishes to pay for our meal) if he had his wallet.


"Well, where is it?"

(Pointed to his back pocket)

"Did you take it on the hike?"

"Yup." (In case you can't tell, Mr. Always Random is a man of few words.)

"Why would you do that?"

"So they could identify the body."

(Laughing from me)

"No, I'm serious...if they found the body and had to ask the question 'Who is this man in perfect health?', I want them to be able to identify the body."

Now, my adoring fans, switch gears with me; I must explain this last statement...because it harkens back to an issue which has honestly been bugging me for a good week.

As part of our foster care license application, we each had to have a doctor sign off that we were in perfect health...or at least health good enough to take care of a ward of the State.

I had been stressing about this for days. I knew my doctor and I go see her every year, and yet I was concerned.

I'm a worry-er...don't judge.

Mr. Always Random, on the other hand, made an appointment with a doctor (the nurse practitioner, if we're aiming to total honesty here...and of course I do) who was selected simply because he was in the approved list of GPs in our insurance, and because his office was close to our house.

I can't remember when the last time was that Mr. Always Random went to the doctor for anything...but I believe it was in 2001 when we were pregnant with our oldest son and I wanted to ensure that my husband wasn't going to keel over and leave me to raise the kiddo on my own.

Yes, I'm sensitive like that. "I really am concerned about your health, Honey...this doctor appointment is not ONLY about my fear of raising this child alone."

Ironically, I did NOT have him go to the doctor when we were pregnant with our second child...little did I know that I would need him more once I had that second one that I did with the first. Not simply because there were two kiddos 20 months apart...but also because (as you may recall from his birthday post) Mr. Always Random the Youngest was/is a bit of a handful.

So...he went to see this nurse practitioner...who, at one point, flat out asked him why he was there. Because he was "in perfect health."

Are you kidding me?!?!

Really?!? PERFECT health?  He drinks soda (I only do one a VERY rare occasion), creamer in his coffee (I drink mine black), coldcuts for lunch every day (I usually eat greek yogurt, fruits, veggies, maybe some cheese or a handful of almonds), hardly any fruit or veggies (I try to have them in almost every meal, usually more than one...and sometimes as a snack), and doesn't exercise (I work out 5-6 times/week).

I could go on, but I'm certain you get the point.

Yes, I should be happy about this and underneath it all, I truly am. But the jealousy may tend to overshadow it a bit.

There's something to be said for genes. I don't know what that something is but it kind of makes me mad.

And finally...I will leave you with this. As you may (or may not) know, my dad is a photographer for the IMS (Indianapolis Motor Speedway). Which means he's really good.

And he's attempting to foster this desire/interest/talent in the PBA as well.  Vacations are great opportunities for this gene, which often lies latent, to come out in the boys.

Now, one thing to tell you: my dad takes his photography work very seriously. The PBA...not so much. Well, at least one of them is not so serious. For instance, the 10yo's goal for yesterday was to take the most pictures of the three of them.

Not QUALITY, but about QUANTITY.

So yesterday, when we were visiting Mormon Row (where I took the picture for my Wordless Wednesday on Thursday)...soon after we arrived, my dad was "chastising" me because my shadow was in his shot.

OK, not a problem...I side-stepped a couple feet and moved on.

I may have rolled my eyes. Old habits from the teenage years die hard sometimes.

A little while later, my 10yo came running up to me with his camera, eager to show me his photos of the day.  Then he scampered off to take some more. I heard him yelling from behind me...something to do with "Mom" and "picture".

Well, I must admit that I am not usually one to want her picture taken, but when your 10yo wants to take your picture, you oblige. Happily.

So I gave a little best I could, since I don't like to be in pictures and have had little experience in that department.

He said it again...louder this time, but still all I could hear was "Mom" and "picture."

So I yelled back, "I know, Buddy, I'm waiting for you to take it!"

Arms waving wildly, "No, Mom!!! You're IN my picture!"

Well, I'm so sorry to have ruined your picture by my mere presence. Allow me to move.

I know for certain that I rolled my eyes that time. But I obliged. Again.

In fact...the only person who WANTED to take my picture was Mr. Always Random...but that's only because he was making fun of my outfit (which wasn't great...I'll freely admit...hey, I'm on vacation!). And he wanted to  post it on FB.

I don't think he would really do that, but just in case you ever see that he's posted a horrid picture of me, be my friend and report him please. To Facebook. And me.

The 12yo is currently my favorite. And my mom too. She doesn't even have a camera.

Have a fabulous day!

1 comment:

  1. Throughly enjoying your vacation stories! Keep 'em coming!!!
    And i promise I will rescue you from embarrassment if I see you tagged in a tacky picture, so you can untag yourself because I am THAT kind of friend.