Is the Itsy Bitsy Spider good for kids?

I washed my hands and the little spider, with nothing to cling to, slipped down the drain.  I found myself singing about the Itsy Bitsy Spider ...went up the water spout... while I watched this happen I secretly smiled in delight that the poor spider was meeting with an unfortunate set of circumstances...down came the rain and washed the spider out...Mwahahaha!!  However, despite marveling at my own evilness, the song made me wonder what we are teaching our kids. Unrelenting persistence. Yes that's great. Get back up again after you fall down.  Fantastic. But are we not also inadvertently teaching children NOT to learn from their own mistakes when telling them the spider goes back up the exact same spout?  Every child knows that rain happens regularly and that that spider is highly likely to meet the same demise and consequence in the future...we teach them that with "Rain Rain Go Away, Come Again Another Day".  ...out came the sun and dried up all the rain...  An old Chinese Proverb tells us if we fall down 7 times to get up 8...It is also said that lessons will be repeated until learned... Is the spider simply facing the spout with sheer determination or  is it just a little slow on the uptake?   Was the spout placed there by some divine intervention to deliberately give it a challenge to overcome?  Maybe once it fully completes the uphill battle of the spout it will be a better spider because of it? Maybe.  For gits and shiggles, let's change the last line of the song so that the spider does in fact learn from its own mistakes, takes a different path but still continues its persistence with "goes up the wall instead".  Would that thereby be allowing it to take the easy way out or is it teaching children to try something different if the first way didn't work out?  Hmm...that's a tough one.  Maybe its ok if the new route of the wall comes with its own challenges...Not sure...what I am sure of is that each and every one of you will have that little song stuck in your head for the remainder of the day. Mwahahahaha!!

Rules for Proper Eating

I love food. I do. I LOVE to eat and I have the waistline to prove it. Some people though, say that I am a picky eater. I really don't know what they're talking about...nope, no clue. Not me. Well maybe a little. Ok, ok...there may be a few food issues. But not many...there are just a couple of rules that I adhere to. Smells, sights, tastes and texture all go into whether or not I will eat something. Some of the rules are strict, it’s true. Others are less strict. Some things can be eaten in one form and not others and some things not at all.


First on the list is mushrooms. Mushrooms are horrid things and should never be consumed. The only time they may be eaten is if they have been obliterated of any resemblance to their original form such as in mushroom broth or cream of mushroom soup. That’s it. People who pile mushrooms on food or eat a mushroom sandwich are crazy.


Second on the list is unmelted cheese. This should also never be eaten. Ever! It should never be eaten by itself, never on a cracker, and certainly never on a sandwich. The only time cheese should be consumed is if it has the opportunity to melt, such as in chili, a burrito, pizza or a grilled cheese sandwich…a taco as well but only if placed next to the beef or chicken and not on top of cold lettuce where it won’t melt. That’s it. Other cheeses that don’t make the Eat It List are feta, cottage, brie, blue, pimento and all the ones I don’t even know about. Cream cheese is tolerable if spread very thin. Cheese cake, no thanks. Acceptable cheeses are cheddar, mozzarella, parmesan, Swiss, American. That’s about it.


Mayonnaise is another one…If the sandwich is grilled, cheese can be applied and so no mayonnaise is necessary…mayo only on a cold sandwich and never on a burger. It’s ok in small quantities such as chicken salad or on a cold sandwich. Potato salad, macaroni salad or coleslaw is a big fat no. Tuna is ok to have a little mayonnaise but not too much to where it gets soupy. Tuna is best served with raisins mixed in it…nothing else, but it’s ok if it doesn’t. No apples, no nuts, no onions.


Eggs, that’s another biggie. Scrambled only. No sunny-side up. No over easy. No hard or soft boiled. No deviled eggs. No chunks either…no onions or peppers or ham…just scrambled eggs…adding cheese is ok since it will melt. Of course eggs are fine to put in a cake or something.


Then there are the tomatoes. Tomatoes have strict rules. Ketchup is ok, spaghetti sauce is ok, chopped small and stewed for chili is ok. Salsa is NOT ok. Raw is not ok. Yuck. Tomato soup is a maybe and only as a last resort IF there are crackers or a grilled cheese sandwich accompaniment.


Most salad dressing is out…creamy Caesar or ranch are about the only acceptable dressings. Salad should be eaten naked otherwise. No oil, no vinegar, no balsamic. Yuck.


Onions should always be sautéed and should never be eaten raw. Period.


Sour cream is ok if it’s used in cooking or in chili that’s too hot. Sour cream should never be topped onto a burrito for no reason.


Ham is ok if it is cooked…cold cut ham is a big fat no.


I probably missed some things but most everything else that I won’t eat is simply on the No List…few or no rules required, just a straight up no. Oysters and mussels, no. Tapioca, corned beef, artichokes, no. Carrot cake, rice pudding, bread pudding, asparagus, brussel sprouts, no, no, no! Pizza with too much stuff on it is debatable…plain cheese is best but I can sometimes tolerate chicken and broccoli, anchovies and sardines are out. Cilantro, sauerkraut, green chilies, olives, liver, turnips, radishes, definitely not. Licorice (red licorice is not licorice at all, but strawberry or cherry), black eyed peas, buttermilk unless it’s in pancakes or other cooking, lima beans, creamed corn, cooked spinach, dill pickles, pickle relish, no, no, no, NO! Of course this is not an exhausted list. Most foreign foods, chilled food, things that are slimy or have weird textures, things that smell weird, anything hot and spicy, anything that looks yucky, things I have never heard of before, and anything I can’t identify like at a potluck are all out. Other than that, I will eat just about anything! The other thing is that I am much better than I used to be. Things I wouldn’t eat before that I will eat now even if on a limited basis: avocados, hummus, black beans, refried beans, ranch dressing, cream cheese, alfredo sauce, pesto sauce, sushi…lot’s of things. See, I am much better!!


And you may think all this is weird…but you haven’t met my sister. Now she is a freak! She won’t let her food touch!

The Anatomy of a Morning

Beep beep beep beep…there is a noise coming from the cockpit of the plane.  Beep beep beep beep.  As the pilot, it’s my job to find the source and fix the problem.  Beep beep beep beep.  It must be engine trouble.  The sound gets louder, we’re rapidly descending…  I frantically fidget with buttons and dials and levers and switches, to no avail.  “MAY DAY! MAY DAY! WE’RE GOING DOWN!!!”, I scream! 

The adrenaline pumping hard!  Beep beep BEEP BEEP, louder still the noise gets.  I can see the ripples in the water and the shells on the beach as the ground approaches.  I try with all my might to pull up……pull up! Pull Up!  PULL UP!!  DAMMIT…why won’t you pull up?!!   BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP!!

I come to.  The plane doesn’t crash but instead I roll over and clumsily bat my hand against my phone finally having realized what that awful noise was…It finally stops, if only momentarily.  My brain takes in the reality of the situation.  It is 7:00 and I have to be somewhere at 9.  There are several things that need to happen in the next 2 hours…I need to get up and shower, brush my teeth, feed the dogs, potty the dogs, feed myself, go down to the basement and get clean clothes out of the dryer.  I also like to journal for 20 minutes in the morning before I do anything else.  There is also a 30 minute drive to contend with.

I snooze the alarm and roll back over.  Five minutes later I am startled again…beep beep beep beep.  , Damn noise.  Do I really have to get up?  What do I have to do again?  Taking stock…Journal, shower, teeth, laundry, feed dogs, feed myself, bathroom for myself and the dogs, drive.  Beep beep beep beep.  Another five minutes lost.  Grrroooaaaaannnnn.  I am far too old to stay up so late.

Before I know it 20 minutes are gone, then 30 then 45.  At this point I start to prioritize my morning list of crap to do.  Ok, what can I lose?  Journaling…absolutely.  Who needs that?  Not me.  Not today.  That’s the first thing to go.  What else? Breakfast…I certainly can get by until lunch.  Beep beep beep beep!  Crap!  I must’ve fallen back to sleep.  It’s now almost 8am.  Reevaluating…ok how dirty am I?  Do I really need that shower?  Let’s see here… I had one 2 days ago…I am not that dirty…and it’s not a take-off-my-clothes doctors appointment…so it’s all good.  I just saved myself at least 20 minutes and bought myself another 5 since, I am not showering, I no longer need clean clothes from the dryer.  Score!  8:10…still in bed.  Let’s see what else can go?  Brushing teeth can happen in the car.  Easy.  This is exactly why a toothbrush and paste is kept there.  My good friend Justin Case suggested that to me years ago and I am firmly convinced in the practice…everyone should do it.  That Justin, he is such a handy guy to have around!  He’s always so well prepared…  Ok, so all that’s left is going to the bathroom for myself and the dogs…yeah it’s kind of hard to skip that.  Luckily it doesn’t take long.  8:25am, roll out of bed.  Find the cleanest-dirty articles of clothing from the floor, clean undies from the drawer and race to the bathroom.  Fifteen-second baby wipe bath for the important anatomy places before getting dressed.  8:28am… totally on schedule.  Crap!  I forgot to feed the dogs.  But that’s ok, because I have food for both of them in the car!  Whew!  Grab keys, leash dogs, lock house, to the car as fast as my healing-but-still-somewhat-injured ankle will go, let the dogs pee.  

My trail run up to the car.

8:30, start van, drive away.  Right on time!!!  Drive half a mile down the road only to discover that I left my phone…CRAP!  I can’t function without it.  Turn around…drive the half mile back to the house.  Park, hobble down the trail, unlock the door…now where did I leave it?  

My trail run back to the cabin to get my phone

In the bathroom!  Of course!  8:36am, relock the door and run myself back up the trail to the van…the dogs are so confused and I am getting more exercise than I have had in a year!  8:38 and I am once again on my way, 8 minutes behind schedule.  That’s ok, they are never on time at the surgeon’s office anyway and the 30 minute drive time is generous to start with.  I brush my teeth while driving, it’s a talent and a skill!  I roll into Dr. Allen’s office at 9:03…Not bad!  My ever-so-punctual friend Justin Time would be so proud.

Are you an Asheville Tourist? Let Me Help You Out

For those of you who do not live in Asheville but are thinking about visiting, what we have is truly a wonderfully amazing place to visit.  There is a ton of stuff to do here and it’s a wild and eclectic mecca for artists, foodies, beer lovers, musicians and outdoor adventurists.  But, before you travel, know that it can be a tiny bit confusing to the unsuspecting tourist.  Let me help you out.  There’s the Biltmore Estate and chances are high that you will want to go there.  It’s an 8,000 acre estate with a 250-room house, the largest privately owned home in the country.

Black and White Biltmore House
 by my favorite local photographer, Deborah Scannell

It’s very popular, very expensive and very worth it.  If you choose to partake in this classic Ashevillian tourist attraction, be sure not to confuse the estate with Biltmore Village, Biltmore Square, Biltmore Park, Biltmore Forest or Biltmore Avenue.  You will do this…I know.  Every day I see bewildered tourists with screwy expressions on their faces coming in to Starbucks at Biltmore Village, adjacent to the estate entrance, to ask for directions.  They are lost and have spent an hour driving around misunderstanding or simply missing obvious road signs.  To clarify, Biltmore Village is the several blocks of cute and adorable historical shops right outside the estate entrance.  Biltmore Square is on the west side of the estate and houses the crappy mall that no one goes to.  Biltmore Park is on the south side of the estate and is one of those newfangled intentionally planned multi-use developments. There you will find the YMCA, REI, the stadium seat movie theater and some million-dollar homes.  Biltmore Forest is on the east side of the estate where all the multi-million dollar homes are and where I expect the Obama’s will purchase their retirement home.  And finally, Biltmore Avenue runs between the estate and downtown Asheville. Be careful here...although it never makes any turns, it changes names three times, one end being called Merrimon Avenue and the other end Hendersonville Road.  In reality it is nowhere near Hendersonville...but you could get there if you took it 15 miles out of town. But…maybe you are not looking for the estate at all.  Maybe you are just looking for Starbucks.  Well there is the one here at Biltmore Village and the one down Hendersonville Road very close to Biltmore Forest.  If you are meeting someone at one of these locations, make sure you have the correct Biltmore prefix so that you or they don’t become needlessly lost or frustrated and then need someone like me to help sort you out.  Then there are the Groves…the Grove Park Inn, The Grove Arcade and Grove Street.  The Grove Arcade is downtown but it’s not an arcade and it’s not on Grove Street.  The Grove Park Inn is just north of downtown and is also not on Grove Street.  It is just down the road from the 3^rd Starbucks in town, in case you are in need of yet more coffee.  However, if you want really great coffee and not just directions, you will not go to Starbucks.  You will go to the High Five Coffee Bar on Broadway which isn’t really broad at all.  And if you are here as an Asheville Tourist, please don’t confuse yourself with a member of our local baseball team.  It’s really not hard.  I hope that clears things up. :)

How to Talk to Little Kids

I came to Starbucks today to write about my morning.  Instead I was presented with two adorable sets of young children to observe at the table opposite mine and so I am writing about them instead. 

The first set was two little girls…maybe about 5 and 7.  They had the reddest of hair and were wearing cute little sundresses under long raincoats and bows in their hair.  They sat with their mother and uncle and had American Girl books in hand.  It seemed the uncle hadn’t seen the girls in a while and proceeded in to interact with them on their level.  It was absolutely enchanting to watch.  He said things like “Do you remember me?  My name is ‘Uncle Victoria’ or ‘Uncle Pickle Pie’ or ‘Aunt Robert’.  The girls howled with laughter and it fueled his passion and their interaction.  He asked them open ended questions like “where is the train going” upon hearing the familiar toot of the “choo-choo”, as he called it.  His eyes were bright and he leaned forward to hear their answer of “maybe to China!”  Clearly he was genuinely interested in what they had to say.  He responded to their answers with glee, inviting them to talk and share and be themselves.   It appeared that Mom wanted them to be quiet so she could read her book and couldn’t care less about this uncle-niece conversation.  They weren’t noisy but they were anything but quiet…as well they should be when reuniting with an uncle. 

The other set of children came right on the heels of the girls vacating their table.  They were two little boys who appeared to be twins with a set of dads in tow.  I was secretly hoping for gay dads with adopted kids but it turns out the dads were brothers and boys nearly identical cousins.  A police car pulled in…a regular at Starbucks.  The boys were THRILLED to see the car and stood up on their chairs to get a better look.  When the officer came out with cup in hand he asked the boys if they would like to see the lights.  The look of pure excitement on their little faces was absolutely priceless as they watched the spinning blue lights come on and the car pull out of the lot.  Both dads and I turned our heads between watching the car and watching the boys watching the car.  We made eye contact as we shared in the unspoken knowledge that we had just witnessed a childhood moment not lost.  One boy came over and with a little prompting from dad, asked if he could pet the dogs.  I said he could as long as he was gentle and he told me he would be.  He then surprised me when he smartly informed me that you have to let a dog smell you first.  I guess he is a seasoned dog-petter.

Thus began a delightful conversation with this tiny young man.  I asked him his name and I guessed correctly that he was 4.  I also guessed that his cousin, who never did come over despite the older one’s efforts, was only 3.  He literally bounced up and down at my magically correct guesses and nodded his head in excitement.  He then proceeded to tell me that after his cousin is done being 3, he will be 3 and a half!  He then told me that he is almost 4 and a half and that he would then turn 5, and then 5 and a half and then 6 and then 7 and 8 and 9 and 10 and 11.  He stopped at eleven and said that he would then be really big!  I wondered if he just didn’t know what came after eleven.   I asked him how big he would be and he put his little arm up as high as he could reach.  “THIS BIG” he said with a huge smile and wide eyes.  We talked and he continued to pet the dogs and bounce intermittently.  I asked him questions and reflected his answers so he knew I was listening.  We wound up talking so long that his dad realized I may be bothered and called him back.  I wanted to tell him that I was gathering material but I kept that to myself.  Funny how incessant talking from a random adult can bug me to no end but the same behavior from a little kid, is welcomed.  Back at his table, the two boys took up a game of running in tight circles and yelling as loud as they could…eventually inciting both dads to pull the plug on their inventiveness.  I just smiled and reveled in the whole interaction.  Just before they left, the boy came back for one last pet. He thanked me for letting me pet the dog and I thanked him for the inspiration.  :)

How to talk to little kids?  Show excitement. Let your eyes sparkle. Ask open ended questions. Get on their level and ask them about their interests. Delight in their answers. Talk about ridiculous and impossible things.  Make up stories together.  Laugh.  Smile.  Be silly.  Whoever said that children should be seen and not heard?  Phooey on them...get 'em talkin'!  

He's Old, Not Dead

I met a 20-something guy at the dog park today for the first time.  He was outgoing and talkative and walked up with an exuberant mission to introduce himself and his puppy.  I was in my reclusive mode and wasn’t particularly in the mood to talk to this guy but he sat in the shade right beside me and didn’t take the “nose in the phone” cue.  Talk, talk, talk, talk, Talk, Talk, TALK, TALK.  Seventeen weeks old he said his pup was. He’s a lab bloodhound mix…gonna be big, he said.  His paws are huge, got a lot of extra skin, he said.  The vet said at least 100 pounds!  He still has his balls, he said…don’t have the heart to have them removed.  My eyes rolled uncontrollably…do I have a sign on my forehead that says “come talk my ear off when I am trying to relax in the shade?”

His pup rolled around with the other dogs that were willing to play with him and pestered the ones who weren’t.   He tried to play with Jake and Scout who are far too refined to play with bouncy and rambunctious puppies.  This made the guy talk to Jake who of course wouldn’t pay him any attention.  “Is he old?”  Yes, he’s almost 13 and he’s deaf.  His next statement was just the beginning of my wanting to put my foot through this guy’s arse.  “Oh that’s so sad.  It’s sad when they get old and lose their functions.  He probably has a lot of trouble eating”.  Nooooo…he eats just fine.  He rubbed him down and commented that he didn’t seem to mind being petted, something he said that most elderly dogs don’t like.  “Do you come here so he gets exercise?  He doesn’t seem to like it much.”  Noooo…he likes it just fine.  He walks all over the park before coming back to rest.

  Sometimes he even runs around.  “Oh you poor thing…poor Jake”.  He then pointed out all of Jake’s little bumps and growths and warts and little scabs, even his goopy eyes.  “Is that a tick on his head?”  No it’s a wart.  “Oh…It’s so sad when they get those…it happens to older dogs…I just hate to see a dog get old”.   Then he commented on how calm Jake is and how most dogs are really agitated when they get up there in age.   I tried to be friendly despite my growing annoyance and anti-social mood.  I said that Jake has had his share of issues…he leaks and often paces at night.  I added that he wears diapers for the leaking issue but that the pacing has gotten better recently with a wet food diet and even more recently with the use of a borrowed memory foam dog bed.  “Aches and pains?” he wanted to know.  Sometimes…yeah I guess.  “Poor thing…Poooooor Jake…sooooooo very sad.   Have you ever thought about having him euthanized?”  Ok, dude…seriously, can I smack you now?  I wanted to say “why, just because he’s old?...because he's not a cute, bouncy little puppy anymore?!”  Instead I said, matter of factly, “No…not until he can no longer eat, poop or walk.”  At this point he went on with his ramblings and I tuned him out, more than irritated.  He turned his attention to the other dogs in the park and preyed on the other unsuspecting owners with his over talkativeness.  I sat and reflected on the conversation… do people abandon their old dogs at shelters or put them down just because they get old and they can’t deal with the challenges? I understand difficult decisions must be made when the time is right but it seemed to me he thought I should end Jake's life just because there have been a few declines and that he's not what he once was.  I really hope this guy figures out how to handle an elderly dog before his pup loses one or more of his functions.  I am guessing he’s got at least 7-10 years before that happens.   I certainly won’t deny that Jake can be a royal pain in the rear sometimes and that he has presented with his fair share of major challenges but that doesn’t mean he should lose his life over it.  He still enjoys his life and can keep it as long as he does. 

20 Lessons from a Solo Backpacking Trip

1. Tent stakes work best if you remember to bring them along and don't leave them on the kitchen table. 

2. It's not the end of world if you forgot the tent stakes. Stringing up ones tarp to trees, tying to roots and sticks as makeshift stakes works ok too.  See lesson 1.

3. Beetles are very crunchy and have a squashy center.

4. Inspect EVERY bite of your dinner before consuming. You just never know if something landed there.  See lesson 3.

5. FiveFingers make fantastic camp shoes but they're almost impossible to put on over soggy feet.  Bring a bandana. 

6. Confirmed from last backpacking trip...Fresh marshmallows do indeed melt better than old ones. 

7. Despite it's close resemblance to dryer lint, piles of dog hair does not make good fire starter. It works very well if you add fuel.  See lesson 8. 

8. Don't use fuel to start a fire unless you don't mind singeing all the hair on your hand, arm, leg and eyebrows. 

8. I don't like spiders...nothing new. I REALLY don't like spiders the size of my palm with eyes that glow in the dark when your flashlight shines on them at just the right angle. Yeah I don't like that. 

9. Inspect the rock you intend to place your clothing on while you swim naked for large quantities of enormous palm-sized scary glowing bug-eyed spiders.  See lesson 8.

10. When chanting and dancing naked around the fire make sure you're far enough away so that when it pops embers, one doesn't land directly on your leg. 

11. If you plan to dance naked and close to your fire, make sure your first aid kit contains a packet of Glacier Gel...a burn patch. Or two. See lesson 10.

12. The single-most important piece of gear on a SOLO backpacking trip: the back scratcher. Hands down. If you forgot a backscratcher, rubbing against a tree works well too.

13. Gore-tex boots only work if you manage to not allow water to spill over the top. 

14. When crossing creeks with wet slippery rocks while wearing dry boots, don't slip.  See lesson 13.

15. Dark Chocolate M&M's are better than Special Dark Hershey's Pieces. They come in much prettier colors too. Hershey's Pieces are muchas yuckas. That's Spanish for "not yummy at all". 

16. Beware the holly leaves.  Using dry leaves and dirt for a cleaning agent is normally my preferred method of doing dirty dishes. That is until I camped under a grove of holly trees. Ouch!

17. You go to bed so much earlier without a campfire. No doubt this translates to the phone/tv/Internet at home.

18. When your exhausted dog asks politely to spoon with you under your tarp...let him. It makes for a very sweet night. 

19. After waking up in the middle of the night and staring directly into the eyes of a big, scary spider mere inches from my face, I've determined it's time to buy a bug net. See lesson 8.

20. Mom likes backpacking too and picks the best campsites. See previous post Lost for the story.  Mental note: be sure and invite her along for the next trip.  :D

Lost

Two years and two months ago, I lost my mom. One month later I lost my job.  Momless and jobless, I was feeling rather lost.  I took myself on a 4-day solo backpacking trip to collect my thoughts and regroup. Being lost is certainly not the best thing to be when going backpacking alone but being a wiz with a map and compass and the route-finding not that difficult, I wasn't worried that I would ever be physically lost.  It was mid-July and extremely hot. For frame of reference, Hunger Games movie fans will note that it was the same summer the movie was filmed. In the special features on the DVD, the kids talk about how beastly hot it was here in Western North Carolina during their shoot.  It was the sort of hot that makes your clothes and everything else stick to you. Bugs, dirt, a leaf or pine needles that you brushed against...everything. Water beads up on your forehead the instant you wipe it off and despite the presence of eyebrows it still drips down and stings your eyes.  No amount of wiping your face does any good.  My backpack pressing against my back and hips did not help matters. At. All.  Even rock-hopping 13 times over the ice cold creek in one day and stopping periodically to dunk my head, I was still dragging ass due to the high temps.  I could not consume nearly enough water and I refilled my 3-liter Camelbak bag several times to keep up with sweat loss.  Even an I-V would not have been fast enough!  My second day on the trail and I had been hiking on and off for only about 5 hours but exhaustion from the heat was really taking its toll.  Had we not taken so many "its so hot I cant breathe rest breaks" the distance we covered in five hours could probably have been done in 90 minutes. My dog was whooped and flopped down to rest in the shade every chance he got. 

 We both needed a dip in the creek and we needed it soon.  At about 5pm we crossed the creek for what felt like the millionth time and found an adequate but less than ideal campsite just on the other side. It was fairly slanted, rather rooty and rocky and had no existing fire pit...although with the heat I didn't so much want a fire but it would help with the inevitable onslaught of mosquitos.  I could not take another pack-laden step so I figured I'd deal with it...I've slept in far worse places before.  "This is it, Jake", I told my dog. We were both hungry and I had no idea how close another campsite would be. This one would just have to do. My pack came off and it accidentally fell to the ground with a loud thud.  I probably just dented my stove and my cook set...oh well. Despite years of being taught never to sit on my pack, had I sat directly on the ground to change my shoes I'm not sure I would have gotten back up...the pack became my temporary couch.  I unlaced my shoes but pulling them off my feet practically required a crowbar to get them to loosen their sweaty glue grip. Once off, I began the procedure of peeling off my soggy summer-weight SmartWool hiking socks.  Peeling an apple with only your fingernails would have been easier.  A bandana became an essential piece of equipment just then as I used it to dry my feet so that I could jimmy into my Vibram FiveFingers. Lots of toe-wiggling and tugging and pulling and wiggling and they were finally on. More sweat poured off my face from the shoe-change work-out.  At this point I was beyond eager for a dip in the cold creek to cool down before cooking over a hot open flame.  As I made my way across the campsite to head to the water, a large angry horsefly interrupted my path. The darn thing zeroed in on both Jake and me with a vengeance and we had to bolt to the creek to get away. Splash!  Into the water clothes and all...ahhhh, relief.  It was relief from the nasty horsefly but also from the searing brain-cooking heat.  I put my feet up and floated blissfully on my back soaking tired muscles and bones in the ice-cold waters of Harper Creek.  I floated and soaked for what seemed like forever and afterward hopelessly, soaplessly scrubbed dirt and sweat and grime from my very dirty body. Jake enjoyed it as well as the water was deep enough for him to swim and not just wade.  With the removal of his dog pack, he ran around splashing like a little puppy instead of the 10 year old senior dog he was. Eventually hunger overtook temperature and feeling mostly refreshed we went back to our crappy campsite. The horsefly hadn't forgotten about us and set about pestering Jake the moment we returned.  Hopeful it would go away, I began to pull out my stove and food. Jake jumped around like a rodeo bull snapping at the fly which was hell-bent on a painful sting to the butt. When it tired of contending with snapping jaws and flailing tail it came to torment me. I tried every trick I knew to kill that enormous and angry gray fly but to no avail.

It became very apparent that we would have to move but where would we go?  My aching feet didn't have another mile in them.  The fly's intensity increased, threatening our sanity.  Neither of us could take it any more and I said "Jake, we can't stay here". At that exact moment, the strangest occurrence of my life happened, for on those words, the fly left us alone. Sitting fly-free on my pack for a few minutes I thought we might be able to stay there after all. I told Jake, "I think it's gone, lets go ahead and eat."  At that moment, the second strangest occurrence of my life happened for on those words that damn persistent horsefly came back. Jake jumped and snapped and barked like I'd never seen him do before. The fly dive bombed me like I had threatened its young or something and was seeking revenge. If you've ever been stung by one of these things then you know its one of the most horrendously painful stings...worse than any bee or wasp.  In a fury I grabbed my open pack, stuffed my stove and food back in, barely buckled it closed and slung it one handed over one shoulder. With the other hand I reached down and grabbed my boots, Jake's pack and my trekking poles and in my flimsy FiveFingers I took off running down the trail.

The third strangest occurrence of my life happened less than 5 minutes after the first two.  A short distance of running lopsided and clumsy down the trail and we stepped into the most beautiful campsite I could have ever found. It was wide. It was flat. It wasn't rooty at all. It had delicious shade and best of all it had a fire pit with logs for seats. I slowly walked in to the campsite and gently set my pack and and the rest of my things down. The realization of what had just occurred slowly settled in to my brain and the only explanation I could think of was that my mom had come along on her very first backcountry backpacking trip.  She must have scoped out the potential campsites beforehand and when I had picked the wrong one and she "flew" in to intervene.  Why else would a fly like that pester us so badly and leave us alone when I said we were leaving?  I laughed out loud and verbally thanked her.  The instant my mouth was open to talk to her the tears came with it.  I bawled my eyes out for a little while at the very thought of her joining me for my hike.  The rest of the evening was perfect. It cooled off nicely once the sun went down and I cooked a yummy dinner. We had a nice fire and I roasted marshmallows and made s'mores. In the morning I took my sweet time and made a leisurely breakfast.  At about 11:30 I was finally packed up to hike for the day.  Even though she never made herself known again on that trip, I found comfort in knowing that I had a third party present, and I felt a little less lost. That site will always be My Mom's Campsite and is forever memorialized in permanent marker on my map. 

A Nutella Story

I LOVE Nutella.  I blame my friend Allison's husband Scott for turning me onto Nutella on the Saltine...even better than straight off the spoon. It's the perfect mix of sweet and salty. I was hooked right from the first crunch.  For a while I kept a jar in my car along with a Lexan butter knife.  The empties were beginning to pile up. One time I had gotten the big jar on sale...you know the one, its twice the size of the little one and twice as naughty.  

Naughty?  Yeah it's full of sugar but disguised and marketed as healthy.  Well, since they say its healthy it's ok to eat a ton of it, right?  Sssuuuuurrrrreeee...you tell yourself that you naughty person you. Good one. Anyway, one day I had failed to adequately clean my butter knife and it fell on the floor of my van.  Still being all Nutella-ey and sticky, it acquired all sorts of who knows what on it when it hit the floor...dirt, dog hair, spilled coffee, bits of Cool Ranch Dorito residue... what have you.  So, with my knife dirty and me the one who hates doing dishes, it never got washed and the half-eaten jar of Nutella got forgotten. So did the knife.  They both got buried underneath empty envelopes and discarded mail, more dog hair and more Cool Ranch Dorito residue.  It lived there for months and since it should not be refrigerated I was OK with that.  One of these days I'd dig it up for a snack if I ever had a clean knife. 

In my ages-long struggle to help my dog sleep at night and keep him from pacing and panting, I've tried lots of things.  I am pretty broke financially most of the time so going to the vet is kind of out of the question.  My back-up plan?  Facebook.  Lots of folks suggested that panting might mean he was in pain.  Some swear by aspirin for pain, others say NO aspirin NO WAY and suggest Rimadyl.  I can't afford Rimadyl because that will inevitably bring with it a bunch of tests and x-rays and an enormous vet bill. What to do?  My sleep was seriously becoming affected as Jake would pant and pace for hours usually between 2 and 6am. He'd flop himself down on the floor and three seconds later he'd be up to find a new spot. Sometimes it would be right next to my head and he'd pant loudly in my ear. All. Night. Long. I was beginning to go crazy and I was willing to try anything.  A good friend had had a cookout for her birthday and invited another friend whom I had never met before. He and I got to talking about ourselves and our lives and with it being at the forefront of my mind at the time, I brought up my pacing dog.  I told him how I suspected he may be in some arthritic pain or something.  He mentioned that he had recently helped an elderly dog of his with cancer sleep soundly at night with the use of liquid cannabis extract.  My ears perked up and they turned to listen.  The more he talked the more my eyes lit up with hope and I leaned in, "Do you think it would work for Jake?"   He said one tiny drop and the dog would sleep all night long.  Sold!  He said he still had some left and would be happy to sell it to me in hopes of helping my 12 1/2 year old Jake. I was eager to try it and followed him to his house after the gathering to make the purchase.  Just before bed, I got the dropper ready and squirted one...maybe two little drops into his mouth. Turning his head away, he didn't seem especially thrilled with the taste...here, have a biscuit to wash it down.  Wouldn't you know...that dog of mine slept ALL. NIGHT. LONG. and I was ecstatic!  Not one pant.  Not one flop. Not one tiny little pace!  In the morning we got up all refreshed and bouncy and headed first to the dog park and then to my residential life at Starbucks.  Being a chilly day, I left Jake in the van where he is most comfortable and I went inside to read and use the Internet, instead of grabbing our usual dog-friendly spot on the patio.  A couple of hours later I went out to check on him and he was passed out cold with a big goofy grin on his face.  His head barely twitched when I opened the sliding door. There on his bed tucked between his arms like a snuggly Teddy Bear was that damn jar of Nutella!  He had unearthed it from the depths of its months-long home on the Third Level, a term used to describe the state of my bedroom as a teenager.  The lid was broken off in two pieces and the sides of the jar licked crystal clear. The only part that wasn't licked clean was a thin layer at the very bottom just out of tongue's reach.  Coincidence?  I think not...damn dog had the munchies!!  Well...I guess I couldn't really blame him...I mean...who doesn't love Nutella?  I can just imagine him jonesing for a snack and finally finding something at the bottom of the pile, popping the lid off with one snap of the jaw.  Later I discovered he had also eaten an entire sleeve of saltines that he found on the front seat...I guess he likes sweet and salty too.   With it being dirty though, I don't think he used the butter knife.  Damn dog. Well...he's my damn dog and I can't help but love him, munchies and all.  I seem to have accidentally deleted the pics taken from that day but here's a similar one. 

We tried several more times with the drops but they never worked again like they did that first night. And then it occurred to me...they hadn't worked then either.  That had been the first night he was back with me after a week spent at At Play With Sparky...our favorite kennel/daycare (and the Best in Asheville) while I spent a week in Florida. He was simply worn out and slept like he always does after being At Play With Sparky.  All the drops did was give him a raging case of The Munchies and deplete my Nutella supply. :)

An Evening Well Spent

The dogs needed a walk and I suppose I did too.  I had been up til 4am with insomnia the night before and so I had been lounging around the house all day and had just let them out for quick potty breaks...but still they were asking to go for a walk.  “Okay, okay, okay… fine.  Let’s go.”  Since having overcome the inertia to get up and take the walk, I figured we might as well stay up and go somewhere.   After the dogs finished their business we headed down the mountain to the playground at Montreat…my new favorite place.  I go there to build cairns, my latest Inner Child-driven activity, but also to soak in the cold mountain water my still swollen injured-but-slowly-healing ankle.  I also find that it is a very meditative and therapeutic thing to do.  I found a good spot away from most of the people that were still lingering in the park after 6pm and hitched the dogs to a tree.  No time was wasted in climbing down the bank and into the creek.  Within minutes I had one, two, three cairns built.  The fourth one I struggled with a bit as the flat rock I was working with didn’t want to cooperate.  Finally, I managed to just barely balance said flat rock onto the point of a pyramid shaped rock, when a smallish stone jumped from my grip and flung itself directly onto the flat balanced one…bumping it off?.  Nope, the darn thing stuck like a magnet!  It didn’t wiggle and it never fell.  I couldn’t believe it!  My eyes practically popped out of my head and I let out a “WHOOP!” and immediately took a picture in case it didn’t last.  I swear sometimes these rocks really do have a mind of their own.  Or maybe some sort of Rock Faerie was hanging out lending assistance?  I bet that’s it.  

The Rock Faerie-Assisted Cairn with the stone that
jumped out of my hand and landed right on top

Whatever it was, willful rocks or rock faeries, I wanted more challenge, and so I thought I would give them a run for their money.  A large, triangle shaped rock presented itself to me and I stood it up on its point rather than its heavier, and easier, flat base.  Even after managing to get it to stay put, it took several tries to add more on top…but finally, Sweet Success!  Two more balanced on top and it’s done.

Precariously stacked

I was definitely proud of both of those two and very invested in their shelf life so I was a little apprehensive when right then two boys came over and struck up a conversation. 

Boys: “Did you make those?”

Me: “I did.”

Boys: “Whoa, that’s cool!  How did you do that?”

Me: “Well, have you ever played with blocks?”

Boys: “Yeah, but…”

Me: “Well its just like that only instead of playing with blocks, you play with rocks…and you just stack ‘em up.”

Boys: “Whoa…that looks hard.”

Me: “It is sometimes, but that’s why it’s fun. Try it!”

And they did, only I didn’t mean right here, right next to me…On the same set of base rocks I am using…I meant…ya know…OVER THERE! It’s a big creek ya know!!  I held my breath and bit my tongue and managed to keep my thoughts to myself...instead putting on the encouraging teacher face.

One boy wasn't at all interested and busied himself splashing about but the other boy took up residence inches from the cairn I built with the Rock Faerie’s help.  He bent over his work and his hair and his breath brushed my work.  My heart skipped.  I was certain he would clumsily knock it over and my vision of a whole field of cairns would be ruined. 

Boy: “Do you work here?”  He meant the Montreat Conference Center.

Me: “Nope.  I just play here, just like you.”  A big smile slowly took over his face while he comprehended that a grown-up was playing just to play.  The potential for him wreaking havoc had me a little bugged, but he finished his cairn, stood up proudly and romped off with the other boy.  Whew!  

The first child-built cairn inches from my Rock Faerie-assisted cairn

I was relieved that they came and went and left no destruction in their wake…I was pleasantly surprised and I knew my attitude needed an adjustment. I reminded myself that it’s just a pile of rocks and you already got the photos and it’s really no big deal.  Let it go…getting kids involved is a good thing...that’s what you want!  It is what I want, but sometimes my Overgrown 10 Year Old tendencies get the better of me and get in the way of rational thinking.  I continued working and more and more cairns came to be.   The more I worked, the more children came to be as well… It started with 3, and then 4 including the original two, back for more. 

Kids: “I like your castles.  How do you do that?  Why do you do that?  I wanna try that.  Can I try that?  How do you do it?  I wanna try that.  Is it hard?  It looks hard.  I can’t do that.  Can you show me how to do that?  Are they castles?  Can I help?  I wanna try.  Can I do it too?”  I heard from four kids all at once.

Again I said, “It’s just like stacking up blocks…Try it.  Just be careful…don’t knock the other ones down!”

I gave them no instruction, just lead by example.  In my own little world, I continued to focus on my work and take pictures…attitude fully adjusted. 

A little while later I stopped to take a minute to look around.  I was totally astounded!  A whole gaggle of children had come to play with me...no less than nine kids had gotten busy building.  If I had to guess, I would say they ranged in age from 6 to 14. Cairns were popping up all over the place and despite the huge presence of wiggly little bodies haphazardly walking between my precariously built cairns, not a single one was knocked over.  Not one. 

I was completely dumbfounded.  Not only had the number of kids shot up to epic cairn-building proportions but there were several parents looking on and one parent had actually joined in on the fun. She told me later that she had been watching me try to balance a rock on its edge and couldn’t fathom how I would get it to stay there and when I did, she knew she had to get in and try it too.  Yay!!  At this point my heart was exploding with delight as I stood back and watched the scene unfold.  Kids were building all over the place.  They were helping each other and encouraging each other and laughing together when their work would fall.  They helped each other rebuild.  Everyone was so focused and they were enjoying themselves so much that I couldn’t help but shake my head and smile in amazement.

 

The oldest girl of the bunch had built a tall cairn with large rocks.  I was so completely impressed with her determination to rebuild after her beautiful cairn repeatedly fell.  The countdown was on though…it was almost time for them to leave.  “I must finish it!” she belted out.  It fell again.  One last go at it and with the clock ticking…wouldn’t you know…the Force was strong in her just then because every rock held on tight.  Despite our suggestions not to push the envelope, push it she did with two small rocks to the top and she came out victorious.  The beaming look of pride and accomplishment on that girl’s face was enough to carry me through to next month!

It turns out the kids were from a local children’s home and the parent I had struck up a conversation with was their House Parent.  They were there celebrating the 8^th birthday of one of the kids with a late evening trip to the park.  Looking at how the whole interaction happened and how both of us had arrived late, I can’t help but think we were somehow guided to be there and that we will each leave a lasting mark on the other.  The House Parent commented to me that she won’t be able to get in a creek ever again without playing with the rocks.  That is the best thing I have heard all week!  Earlier, she had also said in a loud exclamation, that I had inspired the whole lot of them, but the truth is, they’re the ones that inspired me…and that field full of cairns is exactly what I got.  That and a warm fuzzy feeling. :)

Me and Johnny

Johnny and Me at age 6 or 7

When I was a kid, I loved to play with my many stuffed animals.  They all had names and jobs and homes complete with beds.  They went to school and came home with report cards.  There was Theodore, my most prized possession (that I still have),

Teddy the Bear, Ogilbee the Monkey, Snuffy the Monchichi, and Panda the Panda, just to name the ones that I can remember.  My best friend, Johnny and I would play “School” or “House” with these animals for hours and when we got bored the conversation sounded like this: “what do you want to do?”,  “I don’t know, what do you want to do?”,  “I don’t know, what do you want to do?”.  We’d go back and forth like that until we actually got bored enough that we just found something else to do and it was almost always outside.  Sometimes it was playing in my “yard”…if you could call it a yard.  Mostly my yard was a wood pile of cut logs to operate our wood burning stove.  It covered a HUGE chunk of space…If I had to guess I would say it was 8 feet wide by 40 or 50 feet long and 4 feet high.  As kids, we didn’t so much care really, as it became something else to play on...we even had races on it!  My yard was cool because there was this hidden spot beside the garage and next to the enormous wood pile that became the place where we built forts and clubhouses. We “borrowed” tools and wood from my dad's shop and found scraps in dumpsters with which several rooms and forts got built.  Our imaginations ran wild and we had elaborate pretend games where we became any number of people and took up any number of roles.  Sometimes it was pirates, sometimes it was astronauts, sometimes it was aliens, sometimes it was just regular people with regular jobs.  We had a rope swing as well and would swing between the fort and the wood pile before moving on to something else...like bikes!  Johnny and I would spend hours riding bikes, but not just ride them, pretend while riding them.  At my house, we played “Bank”.  There was a tree on Second Street, right beside my house that became the Bank.  We would ride around until one of us needed some money and the other would jump off a moving bicycle to operate said Bank.  It involved the exchange of some leaves or rocks or sticks standing in for money and when we were done, we would jump back on our bikes and be on our merry way.  At Johnny’s house, 7 houses down from mine, the game was similar only there we played “Gas Station”.  At his house we had the added benefit of an older sister who would sometimes play with us, until she got too cool for us, that is...and a few years later a younger sister.  Playing as a trio was waaaay better because two kids could be riding bikes and one operating the Station…the front stoop of their house.  Occasionally other neighborhood children would play too giving the Station lots of business and the attendant would always respond enthusiastically to the “fill ‘er up regular” request, pouring water from a watering can onto the back tire of the bike.  When we tired of bikes, there was the fabulous “Diggin’ Spot” at Johnny’s house.  This was a bare patch of dirt underneath an overgrown bush that was big enough to be called “The Climbin’ Tree”.  There in the Diggin' Spot we would use a push broom and create roads all over the dirt to drive Johnny's big, metal, yellow Tonka Trucks.  In the Diggin’ Spot, there was some sort of weird universe where both Tonka Trucks and Matchbox Cars peacefully co-existed and were operated by invisible drivers.  We would build miniature houses out of sticks and rocks and whatever else we could find and no house was complete without a stone walkway from driveway to front door and a dugout swimming pool…a small hole in the dirt.  The cars and trucks would leave their homes each “day” and drive around the intricate web of push-broom roads until it was time to go home, usually just a few minutes time.  Sometimes the Diggin’ Spot was actually used for digging…to China typically.  We never got there...we always hit water first.  We lived close enough to the South Shore of Long Island that just a foot or two down and water would fill the hole.  That was just fine with us…something else to play in and something to strive for…diggin’ for water replaced diggin for China.  The Climbin’ Tree was another endless source of entertainment.  We would climb to the highest branches and practice our monkey skills and from the lower branches, our jumping down skills.  We could climb up and keep watch on the neighborhood, my personal favorite.  For whatever reason, Johnny had this irrational fear of these big, mystical creatures he called “Teenagers”.  They would peruse the neighborhood on foot, and apparently in Johnny’s mind search out the younger kids to “beat up” although they never did.  Whenever they made their way down Smith Avenue, he could intuitively sense it and we would quickly retreat to the heights of the Climbin’ Tree or the House, whichever was closer at the time.  We would wait for them to pass by and we’d come out unscathed but a little shaken.  On the other side of Johnny’s yard was another overgrown bush…a mulberry bush.  At some point in the year it would be bursting with red berries.  We would climb it and later come down with faces and fingers stained purple and our dinners ruined.  At another neighborhood house we played SPUD and Tag and made up games reminiscent of CalvinBall from Watterson's famed strip.  It was play like this that inevitably made Johnny’s mom and later the older sister say, “You smell like the ‘outdoors!’”.  Ahhh…exactly as we liked it.  From these games we learned to problem solve, we learned social skills, we learned how to resolve our own conflicts.  We learned about life.

In Disney World...I think we were 10

And then something happened.  One year for Christmas, Johnny got a Nintendo Game System and my family got a computer.  It was all the rage.  Increasingly our hours were spent in front of the TV or computer screen, mindlessly hunting King Koopa or skillfully placing Tetris blocks with no other movement than the flick of a couple of thumbs.  Somehow we knew we were robbing ourselves of important play but we and everyone else we knew justified it with statements like “we're developing ‘hand-eye coordination'”.  We still played outside but not as much as the allure of the video game was far too great. 

Fast-forward to 2013 where all too often I encounter young children of the Video Game Age who seemingly possess little to no imagination skills.  Their toys are largely unplayed with.  They don’t know what to do with a set of blocks.  They have little concept of art supplies.  They make up few or no pretend games.  They simply don’t know how to play.  “How can that be?...play comes naturally” I hear people say.  Well, to that I would say that is does come naturally to children who have been allowed to or forced to be bored, as Johnny and I were when we were little.  But for children who have been saved from boredom and lazily entertained, essentially being raised on bright and flashy electronic games, I would say these children have been stripped of essential social skills that can only come from honest, imagination-driven play with other kids.  “Well I only let my child play ‘educational’ games”.  Really?  So we have gone from “hand-eye coordination” to “but it’s educational” to justify the behavior.  And it’s not just kids…people are letting their infants play on their smart phones and tablets and laptops and child-oriented game systems.  Seriously?  Do you realize what you’re doing?  At least Johnny and I had a chance to learn to play before video games ruled the world.  Many, if not most kids today never seem to get that chance.  You know how the smart phone numbs you out…it does me.  I am guilty as charged...think about what it's really doing to your kids.  The education you’re inevitably giving your children is a numbing LACK of being a free-thinking, well-adjusted and creative individual...but they WILL know their letters and numbers!  And of course they'll know how to operate electronics!  There have been extensive studies on this but people still turn a blind eye.  Uninhibited play is SO important...Your child's very childhood depends on it...they must be given room to breathe, room to scrape their knees.  I know…it’s not safe anymore, right?  But was it ever really safe?  Make them put down the phone.  Get them to turn off the PlayStation.  Send them outside.  Give them trucks and rocks and a mud puddle. If they tell you they are bored and they want to come in, wait them out.  WAIT THEM OUT! Give them time to find something else to do and hopefully they will get their hands dirty and come in smelling of the outdoors. It's good for them...and you!  It works for adults too...go out and play!!

  

Johnny turns 5

Me and Johnny and his little sister, Lizzie...we were 9 or 10, I think she was probably 3