(with a BIG nod to “Pee Wee’s Big Adventure”) “Of course you realize that the Alamo doesn’t have a basement,” said Walldough-the-Magnificent. Well, he didn’t exactly SAY that, but I could tell. Radiant as he often is, veritably emanating transcendence … Continue reading
PLEASE CLOSE the GATE. (Another boring high-desert ramble Wif Da Dorgz)
I don’t know what they’re keeping out, or in. Perhaps they just want to make all the motor-idiots slow down, even stop, while going from one side to the other. This gate nor fence wouldn’t deter the bighorns, below …
The Nine-Mile Hill bighorn sheep herd, part of which is pictured above, hadn’t been very visible these past few months. Today, they’re out grazing, in their full glory for all the nearby highway traffic to view.
Meanwhile, back at “the gate” Rocksea, Sleven, and Dually engage in a pre-hike sniffaroony.
We stop on a ridgetop just south of what I call East Pass to Cactus Park. View is to northwest — with snow-covered Pinyon Mesa on the horizon, and the red desert sandstone cliffs along Unaweep Canyon beyond the relatively flat Cactus Park. What would be impressively visible just a couple miles further west — unseen from this vantage point — are the massive pre-cambrian granite cliffs which displace and replace the reddish sandstone.
Turning 120-degrees to the east, we look to the shaley steep slopes of theBookcliffs. What you can’t see is that my house, along with a few thousand others, is on the valley floor before the Bookcliffs.
Gibbler Mountain, the primary west-edge landmark of Cactus Park. A pleasant breezy cloudily-scattered-cloudy day.
Dool pauses alongside an inuk-thingy in the trees.
Rocksea peers down …
The truck is just off the “road” towards the left.
We get home. The kitten is prostrate at the foot of the Lithograph of the Cat-Saint Bearing Fish.
… we’re in trouble.
Los Extra-Térrestres: otra vez hay uno de sus platillos voladores, disfraza como un nublado.
Mi esposa y yo estàbamos zombi’s en una carrera el sabado pasado. Felizmente, no tuvimos una càmara — estuvimos tan ocupado cazar y perseguir corredors quien estan en “El ùltimo carrera de su vida.”
Corredors tuvieron correr por entre un ciento “zombies.” Fue muy divertido.
Betty lleva una peluca (la mujere agente del gobierno de “Los Juegos del Hambre.”) Yo llevo una hacha-de-carne a travès de mi cabeza, y una camiseta que tiene un zombi caza un tractor con un granjero (campesino).
“Eat locals.”
Domingo fuimos a recoger nuezes de piñon con mi hermano y su novia. Tuve una bolsa para recoger — sentì como un niño a Pascuas. Los arboles fueron lleno de nuezes.
Fuimos àpice o tope de “9 Mile Hill” — que es cerca del “Olivivas Wilderness” y “Cactus Park” — lugares que estuve y visitar de vez en cuando.
Entre nosotros todos, tenemos muchos perros (siete, pienso …) Arriba, Ricardo Cabeza y algun de sus perros.
Y, otoño, tiempo por oro en los arboles …
Si … justo (derecho).
Full Chestal Contact Pick-up and Spin
& other recent artifices
Satyrday (Joon 9) — the local run-club trail run — the annual “Water Tower” 5-mile.
Many of the usual suspects, some new faces, and collectively we exhibit what could be a worrisome trend. Among the 20+ entrants, the youngest was 43! “All the young people are at the tri-athlon” someone suggested — which is true. THAT would be more in keeping with what the younger crowd is into — a big-deal schwagg-bag not-too-pricey entry fee (put on by a local Parks & Rec) event; unlike our low-key “$1 suggested donation” trot through the dusty desert north of town.
I ran slightly better than I expected. After all, I’ve been ‘ramping up’ recently a little, with the frequency and intensity of work-outs increasing somewhat. I was even at the heels of a pack of faster runners — able to not lose ground on the uphills (I think I narrowed the gap a little) but they’d run away from me on the downhills.
Afterwards, those who’d finished waited for the slower ones. There was plenty of fruit, cookies (!?), water and gatorade. I had brought Betty’s dog, RockSea, and when the race started she stayed at the start/finish. Maybe she’s smarter than we think.
The fastest runner was Larry, who is a surprising 49-years-young. He looked back at the three-quarter-mile mark, and I think he was hoping that he’d have some company. Nobody at that point was within 200 yards. And then there’s Sallee.
At 52-or-so-years young, she is THE SWEETHEART of the running club. For those of you guys (okay, gals too) who don’t even look at anyone over, say, 30, I say: look again.
I KNOW I would have found her attractive, nay, appealing, when I was a younger 20-something.
She’s compact, blond, radiant, not diminutive in the chestal aspect, effervescent, fast.
I was closer to her than usual in this run — I had her in my sights most the way. Never-the-less, she is a (running) force to be reckoned with, rating wa-a-a-ay up there, NATIONALLY, in the age-group rankings. Seriously, I’d say she contends for top ten in the country.
As the post-run schmoozing and socializing was breaking up, good-byes were being said, after a few hand-shakes she said “I’d rather get a hug.”
Dutiful and gallant as I am, (and her husband was just standing there) I stepped over and embraced her. And … picked her up. Full chestal contact pick-up and spin. Spun her around. Maybe twice.
Should I not have done that? Heck, glad I did.
I’m a guy. The proverbial red-blooded heterosexual. I like full chestal contact. It’s the next best thing to … you know. As I drove home I could still … feel … the contact. I hope my wife doesn’t read this. I hope no-one in the running club does, either. Deep down inside I hope Sallee does, and, maybe, feels the same way.
Running races can be fun, you know?
& other things:
fighting? to unravel the tiresome demands of the quotidian
(Yeah, rite. Yeah — no doubt — succumbing).
I don’t know about you, but often it seems I can sense and feel currents peculiar to each of the seasons. They often intermingle. Couple Fridays ago, while pedaling my bike up a new, to me, road into the Flat Tops area, I felt a hint of fall. Or so I thought. But it figures. The Flat Tops beckon to me. There’s a primeval-ality about them, reminds me of sci-fi or fantasy stories about areas in the present-day world where either the pre-historic and/or nature-spirit/faerie realms have a pronounced presence.
Fall? It ain’t entirely absent. It’s always there, brooding, perhaps, and when it’s time, it’ll just out and flaunt. It.
Another weekend when I probably shouldn’t have left the couch.
During that Friday’s work-out I decided to explore a new road, heading up West Elk Creek into the Flat Tops. I think I’ve only actually been IN the Flat Tops many (many) years ago, when I was about 13. So, I flirt with the area. Tentative forays since then. I had been to the end of the pavement on the W. Elk Creek Road (Garfield County 245, I think) — riding there and back on my road bike. This time I parked the car at the transition, and pedaled the mountain-bike up the dirt road a few miles. Ah, the feeling of being “up in the mountains” — can’t beat it.
The following Saturday morning I had promised my brother I would help dig a hole next to his house. He intended to find where the sewer line exited the basement, and put in a new-something called a “drop-out.” After three hours of taking turns digging and hauling dirt, we hadn’t found it. I announced that I had had enough fun and left.
I called him later and he said that they had found their target.
actually, betty takes a break from yard-watering. Milli (whose brother, Vanilli, is probably assleap elsewear) uses his LASER EYES to burn holes into things)
Betty and I spent the rest of the day pouring water on the yard. The quotidian really is entrenched and the enslavement aspect is quite evident here.
And later we drove out to the Bean Ranch BLM to kidnap a few plants and flagstone-walkway rocks
and Sunday we ran/rode 9-Mile-Hill MicroWave Tower area
(The cactus, is, sort of, happy).
la casita de sherie ve la mar
Tengo un cuñado, Alex, quien tuvo una novia, Sherie. Ella tiene una casita en la playa cerca de Tampa. Tuvimos un dìa muy agradable allì, dos años pasado. En el imagen, arriba, los dos personas en el agua son A y S.
el entiende que yo ver (y foto) lo
Este pajaro fue en la playa ese dìa. Parece que el entiende lo que hago (tomar fotos). Hace mucho calor aquel dìa, recuerdo …
un pescado de ben, mientras dos perros vigilar
Mientras, en nuestro lago (estanque, actualmente) mi yerno y yo vamos pesquerìa. Sus perros acompañar. Fue un buen dìa por pesquerìa. “Atrapar y libertar.”
un puente sur de tampa — vamos a nuestro hado, o ruina
Sì, hay un puente sur y oeste de Tampa, muy grande. Fuimos a visitar mi Tìo, Jose, quien es el ùltimo tìo tengo. Fue un otro dìa agradable, y importante para mì, porque no visito unos de mis familia con frecuencia.
‘bruce’ — es el tortuga (no es tortuga del agua) de ‘betty’
Bruce tiene diez-y-siete años, mas-o-menos. Betty conseguir B en Florida y B fue pequeño (peso quinientos gramos). Ahora, B peso casi veinte kilogramos. Come mucho.
gato en un otro dimensiòn
Hugh es el gato de mi hija. Encontraba H hace algun años pasado, en un campo cerca de mì casa. H fue un gatito, muy pequeño. Mi hija quiso H inmediatamente, y tomaba el a su casa mas tarde el mismo dìa. H esta muy contento y vive un vida lleno de experiencias y muchas casas.
los espìritus en los arboles
B y yo fueron en “la Mesa Grande” el verano pasado — y los arboles fueron interesantes. ¿Espiritus en los arboles? ¿Porque no?
ricardo cabeza (izquierda) y su cuñada, betty betunada, buscar por “dios sabe que” en el desierto alto cerca de whitewater, colorawdough
si. fue un dìa fresca y nublosidad en el desierto alto. y todos su perros, y algo mas.
los betunadas tienen un encuentro con espìritus animales y tiempo extraño
ah. otro dìa en primavera y temprano en verano en “Cactus Park.” Fue un dìa con la familia (y alugunos perros, por supuesto). Un otro dìa casi en paraìso.
cosas hacerse mas extraño
Es aguardariente.
el gato ‘hugh’ todavia esta bien (por ahora …)
No esta despues los dimsiònes a este fecha.
¿quatro? o cinco? perros a lado de la forraje
Mire inmediato. ¿Mire el ‘perro’ a la izqueirda?
es tranquilo y lleno de paz en la cueva
Siempre, cosas son tranquilo en la cueva, especialmente en invierno.
betty y su caballo, mitch, trabajan en la arena
B tuve muchos años agradable con sus caballos. El tiempo con caballos por nos termina receiente. Lo siento …
ùltimo, pobrecito ‘Dopey’ hacerse perdido
¿ Supone algo mas ?
los mariachis digame que el es el mundo-pequeño
Mi ensayo pròximo (en español) es de mi nieto, el mundo-pequeño.
b e t u n a d a 