Planes, Trains, and Automobiles: June 2010

(See Part 2 here.)

Oh Beautiful, America

I was at the dealership, getting an oil and filter change on my ride. Dealerships are getting very accommodating nowadays. There was a cozy lounge with huge leather couches, and a few chairs. Coffee too. Donuts would be nice, but I can see where it could become a big mess on its own. Because some people are just grumpy, and unappreciative. "What, no sprinkles?! This place is terrible, they have no sprinkled donuts!" They forget they're at a car dealership, and not at Krispy Kreme. (And by the way, I've never been there either. To Krispy Kreme, that is.)

A lady came in. Well, I guess she really wasn't a lady. I didn't have to see her to know. She plopped down on a chair next to me and my couch, grumbling about how she could be elsewhere, doing something more productive. She pulled out her laptop, and started typing. All the while the grumbling continued, interspersed with very colorful words that start with F and end with K, for instance. I don't know if she was there for the same reason I was, or if her vehicle broke down, ergo the unladylike behavior.

Everyone is entitled to a bad day. And I am entitled to my opinion. In which, I would have this advice for all you grumpy people out there:

Take a vacay!

Relax.

Pet your dog. Pet a dog.

Play fetch with said dogs.

Put your arms around your significant other, and see the

beauty of this world. Of our country.

Eat. Eat well. Eat good food.

Smile. For you are surrounded by such beauty. You just have to look past the fact that you are sitting in a dealership customer lounge while your car is being looked at, or fixed.

See, our country is beautiful. We have mountains, hills, prairies,

land as far as the eye can see, and it's all good, clean, and alive.

Take a walk into the land. Feel the life brush by your shins

in wonderful colors of yellow, purple, blue, white, pink, red...

If you have a bum knee, sit down and catch your breath.

See the land from a heavenly perch.

And then take a moment to count your blessings.

You have a home, a family, friends, A CAR.

Go for a walk with your dog. A dog. And see how they see the world. With loving, appreciative eyes.

That's what we did on our Memorial Day Weekend Roadtrip.

O beautiful for spacious skies, for amber waves of grain.

For purple mountain majesties above the fruited plain. America.

America.

Road trip!

Palomino, Alfonsina and I left the soggy, dreary city early to beat the weekend traffic rush.

To make traffic worse, the Interstate was under construction.

E-Burg.

A rush of nostalgia came over me. I was 7 years old on my first camping trip. It was on Fonokuk, an island so small I could walk across it in 3 minutes. The only inhabitants there were coconut crabs, hermit crabs, sand fleas, and flies. (Flies? Don't ask me.) E-Burg is not that different: we had a river running along the camp, we had insects, and wild animals. But unlike Fonokuk, and any other camping trip I've gone on after my first, this one was special. I got to sleep on a real bed in the warmth and comfort of a trailer. (I have The Boxster and Kelo to thank for that. Thanks guys!)

We got there early. Only the Boss Man and the Boss Lady were there. They had already set up most of the communal area, with only a thing or two left to do, like moving benches and feeding the fire.

Then, all we had to do was wait, and watch the rest of the campers stroll in as night fell.

Ah, my saviors: The Boxster & Kelo.

Once cars were parked and tents were set, the campers lounged around the camp fire, telling stories with contents ranging from humor to practical information.

This is Miss Glory. She makes a coleslaw, and tells a story that puts glory into your soul.

I'll tell you why the glorious laughter. Miss Glory told a story about how a man with a vulgar name that sounds like a body part was introduced to a woman with an anatomical name that sounds like the same body part. Needless to say, Body Part C and Body Part V left the party quietly and never came back.

Har har har! You'd laugh this hard if you knew the names. But they're [censored]. Sorry. You just had to be there.

This is how I got the trailer all to myself: The Boxster plays bass in Rachel Mae Band, who was playing a gig two towns away. The band was staying at a hotel next to the venue, so The Boxster's trailer was vacant that night.

They came...

They ate...

They Left.

And the night went on...

This is K2. She makes clam dip so sinful, it makes you go to confession like a broken record.

Bless me Father, for I have sinned. I committed gluttony twenty... I mean fifty... well, really, 75 times.

And if you confessed with a practical priest, he'll tell you, for penance run around the track field 8 times for every 25 offenses. Amen.

Boss Lady. Ah, if it weren't for her wisdom and practicality, we'd run out of firewood, the tableclothes would fly away with the wind, and we'd freeze our spoiled little tushes off and go to bed hungry.

Bless me Father, for I have sinned. I ate the rest of K2's clam dip, and couldn't get out of bed the next morning because it was too cold out.

My son, for penance - this is if you get that practical priest again - you will catch your dinner from the river.

But Father, the river is running too fast and too furious.

My son, God will give you a fisherman to show you how.

Amen.

No, Yours Truly is not a rockstar who wears her sunglasses at night. I had the worst case of allergies. It felt like there were boulders in my eyes! Ugh! Thank goodness I slept on a bed in a trailer, instead of in a tent on the ground. (Ahem! The Boxster & Kelo, kinisou chapur! That's how we, islanders, say 'thank you very much'.)

Morning came. Yours Truly was awakened by the stomping of running horses!

Oh my, Sonya, we're not in The City anymore...

Come n' gettit!

Lo. and behold. There was a master fisherman in our midst!

... and an angel with sharp eyes to tie the fly.

... and an archangel who actually does the fishing for you.

THE fishing hole is around the bend, through the thicket, and over the beaver dam.

Beavers in the Pacific NW are true to form: they can't function without Starbucks.

Only cool guys wear cool fishing gear.

Dear God, please give me a fish. I swear, I won't eat anymore clam dip [because it's all gone], and run 16 track fields before the weekend is through... Amen.

So God sent an archangel to help him out.

And only Miss H knows how many or how big the catch really was.

One of the practical informations I learned on this trip was, pack a cut-off piece of garden hose when you go riding in eastern WA. Horses are so inquisitive and naive that most of their rattlesnake bites occur on the nose. Shove the hose up the horse's nostril to keep his air passage open until you get him immediately to the doctor.