Road trip, Runza, Raccoon and Remembering

Tap-tap-tap...is this thing on?

I can't explain it folks, but I have lost momentum in my blogging since my return from way down South. 
And East. 
(and North, but it wouldn't fit)


It has been a vacation-a-palooza this first summer of non-salaried employment. Weird, right? Letting Special Agent carry the load has freed me up to do a lot of touring around, sometimes even with him. I seriously need to stop laying around by bodies of water (both nature and man made) and get to work on something.


Anything.


Oh well, blog it is. Except - I got nothin'. 


Except a lot of crackberry photos and a deep tan and this lonnnng post. I decided that I would let my beloved crackberry tell the tale of the directions I have been going during my hiatus from blog-land. Its a little long winded - please to forgive.


A photo montage, yo. In two parts.


I swear, NO more pictures from the Dominican Republic. The Southern portion of this tour is over.


Let's get started, shall we?


A few weeks after my return from the South, I drove my Mother across several states to say goodbye to my Uncle Hugh, a really special man. 

Dear Uncle Hugh, I'll miss you. 

My mother had just bought a new car and she and I and the baboos hopped in for a thrilling 20 hour drive across scenic Nebraska, Kansas and Missouri. My Mom's new rig was well equipped with a movie player, so traveling with the kids was like traveling with deaf-mutes. Nary a word came from the backseat until I turned the car off and stopped the CD player. I occasionally channeled Clark Griswold, pointing out not very interesting landmarks. 


But no one was listening. (Big Ben, kids...parliament...)


I pointed things out to my Mom, who played along nicely. Even though she has been traveling to this area for at least 40 years.


So.... 

Ahh....the open road. Yes Oprah, I was driving.
Look how straight and empty the road is! 

We are a LOT of bad food on the trip. Traveling the open road is not conducive to healthy eating. By the time it was over I was craving salad. And that never happens. Except taco salad. Yum, taco salad...

Someone INSISTED we eat a "Runza burger" when in
Kansas. So we did. We gave it a thumbs DOWN. 

This would APPEAR be the same shot as before, but look! 
Construction cones!
Lots and lots of 'em. 
And lots of 'em.....
And...well, you get it.

This was lunch in the Midwest. Not kidding. I stopped at
a roadside clinic for a coronary bypass and liposuction. 

Once in Illinois, we went to my Granny's (My Dad's Mother) house to dump the baboos and I off, so my Mom could help with the arrangements and see her sisters who had also traveled in. The Baboos and Granny and I had a nice time catching up and showing the baboos all of the things I enjoyed when I spent time in the area each summer. Most importantly:


1.  Lightening bugs 

We don't have these in Wyoming,
what a shame. 

2. Blue eagle-flavored* sno cones

*Not really flavored with eagles.

The next day we attended a few informal events in honor of my Uncle, including a moving, if not pulverizing-ly hot service with military honors. I did not know most of those in attendance, or had not seen them in many years, but I was very proud to say I was Hugh's niece...to 25 people who, after I left said "who the hell was that and why is she so dressed up?"  I did a lot of nodding to strangers who knew me when as my heels sunk into the wet ground and I fanned myself like a crazy person in the stifling heat. The baboos looked like they might pass out. Wyoming kids are not built for humidity. 


In short, we did not "blend".


While at a post-service luncheon at my Mother's childhood church (church ladies put out good grub, yo), a 50 year old group photo from the church surfaced. I enjoyed seeing the faces of my grandparents (who have been gone since the early 1990's), my Mother, Aunts and Uncles. Strangely, none of the family of 8 was standing together in the photo. I believe they must have all rolled out of the service, crammed together on the lawn and had the photo taken. And then I dream that they ate a huge lunch. I  might be having flashbacks from my meal in the Midwest...

Grandpa Arlo, center.
He looks serious, but look closer. There is a smile in there. 

My Mother, on the left. Sassy as always.

Grandma Mary, looking a bit like she was in charge. :-)

The evening service was hosted by some of Uncle Hugh's friends from AA.

Along with his memorable laugh, Uncle Hugh was an accomplished member of AA and spent the better portion of his week driving to several of the little towns near his, picking up recovering alcoholics in his big black Caddy and taking them to meetings. He traveled and spoke at national AA conferences. He worked the program, and truly believed in its success. 

He was proof it could work. 

It was very moving to hear the others in his meeting group speak very frankly to each other about how my Uncle had stumbled and fell himself, and helped others when they stumbled, dedicated to continuing with the program. They joked he was a great roommate since his hearing loss made a good match for snorers, and they knew all about his sisters. His family was there, among his AA family. We held hands with them and said the AA creed. I shook hands warmly with several when I left.

On the way home I was feeling nostalgic so I wanted to take my children by my Granny's old house so they could see where my Dad grew up and where I spent my summers. The problem is, you can't really SEE-see it from the road. 

So I pulled in.

My Granny was a little mortified.

The Baboos were not surprised. They know me too well.

I met and explained my reason for visiting to a young pregnant woman in the yard, flanked by 2 little boys on bikes and a small girl in a dress and mud boots. All were adorable and had the dirt of the day on them. They were more welcoming than they should have been to two carloads of weirdos in funeral wear, barging into their evening. 

The boys showed up how they used the walk to jump their dirt bikes and I told them about the swing we used to have between the yards in the largest tree (don't use old ski rope - story for another day). 

The back yard where I used to collect lightening bugs and  mosquito bites.

My Dad had kept a raccoon for a pet when he was small and had told me stories of his days with Charlie squirrel and Davy Crockett the raccoon many, many times. So, imagine my surprise when....

Yes. They had a pet raccoon!!!. 
In 2011! 
In the City Limits!

Baboo and Davy Crockett II and his small owners

Amid rabies fears, the Baboos and I held the raccoon, since it was karma-riffic about my Dad and all. I held him against my black dress, my heels killing me and tried not to think about washing all of our hands ASAP. 

I had exactly the same look on my face.
And raccoon stink all over my black dress.

The family had saved him from drowning in a water barrel and he was completely tame. I just *KNEW* my Dad Mick was smiling down on my son holding a probably diseased raccoon. 

Ah, Mick. This raccoon's for you.  

We drove to Granny's smiling and quiet, nostalgic about the great stories shared by Uncle Hugh's friends, and the sweet visit to my Dad's childhood home and the one in my memories.

I felt lucky to get to spend a lot of downtime with my Granny Mae, my Dad's mother. She turned 92 in July, but is running at about 75, I think. She still lives alone and (gasp) even drives her younger neighbors to the doctor. 

She is wise and fun and bossy. We are cut from the same cloth, looks-wise and personality both. Being bossy is something I have inherited from her and when she bosses me around and I boss her around... it makes me laugh. 

Dear Mae. I love you. These will be my hands someday.

Even though my dogs were barking from my hooker heels, and we had decided we WOULD NOT go to church Sunday, Mae woke me at 6 am, telling me her conscience had woken her and she thought we needed to go to church. I tried to explain that we hadn't brought proper Sunday clothes, but she quickly reminded me that I had the clothes and shoes, ugh that I had worn to the funeral. Oh joy. 3 inch heels for a Sunday service. 

Again with the blending. 

My Granny has gone to Epworth Methodist Church all of my life, and I have sat in the pews on Sunday many times, through several ministers...one of whom kissed my father. That pretty much ended the church service visits to Epworth for him. 

Yes, I took a photo during church. So sue me. 

While most of you know that church is not my scene, I definitely get the community aspect of congregations, and this hometown church maintains all of the goodness that one would expect. Many came to meet and greet us during a portion of the service and shook our hands with both of theirs while they told us how much my Granny brings to their group and how much my Dad meant to them and how sad they were that he is no longer with us. They also told us how great we looked, which made my feet hurt a lot little less.  

We think Granny brings a lot to our table too, so we kidnapped her and brought her home to Wyoming with us for a visit. The drive home was a little more grueling, since we had done it once and the novelty had worn off. 

Ok, not all of it. There were a few more sights I just couldn't help but capture... 

This is a FAMILY restaurant, ahem. 

I have never seen such a comprehensive "don't pee in the pool" sign. 

I had to see what "classy restrooms" looked like in a gas station
and I must admit, I felt like a debutante while I hovered.

More of this view...zzzzzz

More oversharing signs, this one for a bathroom in a miniscule town
somewhere on a detoured highway in Nebraska. 

Some pretty views...I felt like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz.

Some NOT as pretty. 

Road warrior, out.

Be Kind, I'm in Swimwear

I have somehow been re-wired into permanent vacation status. I am still finding it difficult to wear undergarments, and keep waiting for the cocktail waitress to show up. I keep asking what the "drink of the day" is today, but no one will answer me. Rude.


In our usual style, the trip to Punta Cana was done on a whim, and we didn't put a ton of planning or thought to the week. It turned out great, solidifying my theory of poor planning as a rule. Our fam works better on the fly with the flexibility. (This is the reason I can't get my Disney on. The Disney planning guides make me curl up in a fetal position, muttering "It's a small, small world...")  Flying by the seat of our pants is a family layer, although I may inspire it.


I have had this post started for way too long now, and it just needs to get done so I can move on to other aspects of my thrilling life. Below are a few shots from the trip, to let you see the resort you'll be staying at on your next beach adventure. It was called Dreams, and it was Dreamy. And hot. 


We upgraded to a Junior Suite. The Baboos immediately made themselves at home. 

The robe was too long, but the slippers....ahhh.
He has a pretty rough life, you know! He needs
to be pampered.

We have an all inclusive package, which included 8 restaurants and all drinks. The food was pretty good, and offered the normal fare that kids like. The biggest downside was that there was something awry with the air conditioning, which made the restaurants *hot*, and not in that "this new restaurant is HOT" kind of way. The Baboos soon learned that room service was also part of the All-Inclusive package and preferred to stay in and order while watching I-Carly in Spanish.

"Hola Carly!. Donde esta su hijo?"

Special Agent and I sweltered through the sushi place, as well as a lovely Italian restaurant while the kids stayed in (don't judge, we had Walkie-Talkies). While trying to explain to the Dominican waiter that I wanted to sit by the window, since it was trying to storm and there was a nice breeze, or that I was enjoying some cool sea air, (or that I wanted to jump out of the window, who knows?) he misunderstood my excellent grasp of their language and shut the window. The rest of the guests were really happy with me. Fail. 

Several bottles of wine later, Special Agent and I checked on the kids and enjoyed a walk. It was hot. Hot...hawt..hott..In my wine-fueled state, I decided a swim was in order. Except...

a) the pool closed at night

b) I was without swimwear

No matter. Special Agent laughed while he held my dress, looking around nervously and whispering "come on..people are walking by..." "don't go way over there, it's all lit up...." and sighing, "you have voyeuristic tendencies, woman.."  The pool was cool and luxurious, and I had it all to myself. I do not believe for one second I am the first or last skinny (ok, medium) dipper they have had at the Dreams Resort and Spa.

I spent a lot of my days here (it closes at night), and one night fateful evening
while Special Agent held my dress. I could be on YouTube, but I am not looking.

The Layers family photo - someone is probably
peeing in the pool at this very moment. 

Local wildlife

My bathing beauty baboo. Under the glasses, her
cheeks were a little scorched. Sunblock fail.

After getting scorched, we decided we had better find something to do that got us away from the pool for a day. (secretly, I think Special Agent was afraid the Dreams Police were coming to kick us out for my late night swim). So, we ventured off to do some zip lining. 

The Onion clan, getting their Zip Line on. Yes, we
made the shorter one wear a helmet eventually. 

Do I look afraid? More importantly, do I look like I have a beer belly?
While I do, I assure you, this level of belly was all shirt. 

Special Agent, showing off his manliness. Note: no umbrella, straws or jewelry
unless you count his gear.

Although the guides sweetly attached my camera to the side of my helmet, I wasn't really into taking photos while we were zip lining. Suffice to say we zipped from one platform to another, rinse and repeat. The best part for me was the trip up and back from the zip lining site, with an excellent and informative guide, showing us what the real Dominican Republic looked like. The ride was bumpy and we smiled at each other as the bus heaved and leaned. 

This darling came out to wave to the bus. We wanted to give him some items we had
brought along, but not allowed, for safety's sake. The host gave him a 2 liter of
soda instead and it made him smile.We gave our items elsewhere, but it felt like
a missed opportunity.

Back to the Bar Beach! Despite our still lingering sunburns, we hit the beach on the resort. As suspected, the baboos preferred the pool inside our resort, but we spent a little time wandering around, jumping on the water trampoline and being hounded by locals selling their wares. 


MJ, I wasn't sure which. Nope, just a lot of bad art and some shirts and trinkets. There was an unseemly massage table tucked away in the back, confirming my suspicion that we could probably get just about anything one was looking for here. Special Agent bought a t-shirt to assist with the local economy. 

This was the beachfront outside our hotel.  I worked to keep the
guy with the jewelry saying " Hey you...nice lady" out of the shot.

Our next big adventure was to take surf lessons as Macao Beach. I won't lie, I was nervous. My lack of athletic ability is well known. I can swim, but coordination is a whole other issue. 


After a prayer to the surf gods, my instructor taught me the basics. He felt my "pop up" was slow, so I had to remind him that I am 37 years old and wildly distracted by the fact he is looking at an unobstructed view of my 37 year old ass. Which ended up lobster red after this day of fun. 

  

 Macao Beach

Yes, this is really what a white girl's rear view looks like at my age.

  

I prefer me cropped, color changed and thigh-edited. 

The good news was, we all got up on our boards and my non athletic ass was actually the first to do it in the class! I showed off a little, trying to channel the movie "Blue Crush". We were highly motivated, as you can see below. 

The rest of our trip was spent within reach of the bar, below. In the instance that close chairs were "unavailable" (I hope you drown, Greek woman on the phone..) a lovely lady would also deliver to the pool. Even the baboos had some non alcoholic Pina Coladas. 

Here is a shot of the bar, complete with swings instead of bar stools.
The *FREE* drinks were brought pool side, very dangerous.

Dreams Punta Cana: Highly, highly recommended. The biggest downside is that I am now warped and cannot seem to get my blog on. And I keep asking passers by for The DRINK OF THE DAY. At 10 in the morning. Don't judge.

Is anyone listening?

Look Kids...it's Big Ben!...Parliament....

After several grueling days of catching up on laundry and lounging by the pool...I am headed back on the open road for a trip to the farmland homeland of my parents.


My Mother planned to make this trip on her own, as she has many, many times but flooding in Iowa has created a detour right in the CENTER of her route. The new route makes her a little nervous, so the baboos and I are jumping on board for the the trip.

Umm....yeah....no....

Eighteen marvelous hours with The Onion, her Baboos and her Mother. Instead of traveling through scenic Iowa, we will be heading south to trailblaze across beautiful Nebraska. ZZZZZZZZZ...Then detour further SOUTH -  further into the Cornhusker state and then across KANSAS in order to get across the flooded areas..


Who knows, Topeka might be awesome. I have never been there, so...open mind.

You are HERE
But you can't go THERE
You gots to go around.

En route, we will stop by a major airport and gather an Aunt who is also coming in. We will see a lot of people who will all think my kids look like someone else. They will also remark on how big I have gotten.


*sigh*


I will bid one of my favorite Uncles a final farewell; I will miss his expressions. I will again suffer the loss of my own father as I watch my cousins say goodbye to theirs.


I will visit Huck's mini mart and possibly get a blue eagle sno-cone for old time's sake. My kids will hopefully catch lightening bugs. We will celebrate the 4th of July in a hometown that isn't ours.  My hair will grow exponentially in the humidity. I will hug a lot of people I don't really know.


On the way back, we will be "plus one" my 92 year old Granny Grunt.


After a hiatus, I feel a blog coming on...

Back in the Saddle..in my swimsuit

After quite a long hiatus, I am back in the blogging saddle. One would imagine that I am absolutely *bursting* with interesting blog fodder, but I will admit, I am doing a lot of blinking at the screen.

blink.

blink-blink.

I think I may be suffering from "Island-Brain", which causes the afflicted to suffer from bouts of continued laziness, desire to lay by the pool, swimming in place of showering and day-drinking.

The Dominican was a great trip. Very relaxing with a zip lining and surfing excursions (Yes, me too. In fact, I was a natural and will be joining the Rockies Chapter of the USA Surf Team). The kids were their usual level of awesomeness in the face of long travel days, and enjoyed many hours in the pool as well as the all-inclusive room service option.

The Onion family, surfing the baby waves..

Sweet Baboo #1 doing her thang. 

Like real tourists, we Northerners got a little too red in spite of our continued application of SPF 1,000 sunscreen. The Dominican mosquitoes appeared to ENJOY my skin marinated in Deep Woods Off.  We spent some time near some Irish folks, commiserating. We drank a LOT of free drinks by the pool, and on only one occasion did I hover near blackout status. It was pretty warm unless you were by the pool, prompting one moment of after dinner skinny dipping in the pool while Special Agent held my dress and played lookout.

I didn't blog.
I didn't check Facebook.
In fact, I didn't even turn on the phone.

Sweet Baboo #2 refused to cut his hair so he could have the right
surfer look for this excursion. I think he pulled it off, don't you? 

It was both nice and a little strange to unplug entirely. When I woke early, I went for a walk, checked out the flamingos, read my Kindle. As the week wore on, I felt a small amount of anxiety about not being in contact with my family and friends AT ALL, but being cheap about roaming charges won out.

The only time I really cringed that I didn't have the phone camera was when I came across a fellow traveler sitting poolside in a Euro-speedo number, who looked like an elder Zeus with flowing silver mane, a smoldering pipe (you heard me) and giant headphones over his ears. It was a missed opportunity, for certain.

I am sure he is wearing a speedo in this. Add a pipe, some
giant headphones and a lilty  Greek barrage of chatter and
you've got it.

It was interesting that during conversations, no one's phone rang, no one checked their messages. It was relaxing, uninterrupted. Why in the world are we always feeling the need to check in? In the Dominican, we unplugged for a week and you know what happened?

Nothing.

World still spun, work still continued. When we arrived in New York and turned on our phones the messages were not urgent and everyone survived without us for a week. We checked in, but I noticed we didn't have the death grip on the blackberry that we had when we flew out. I see it creeping back in, but I am trying to fight it.

"Island-Brain" isn't all bad.

 So what if I sleep in my swimsuit?

MIA at A Lot of Layers

My apologies, I have been utterly and completely MIA lately as far as posting goes. It has been several weeks of birthday celebrations, the end of school and other nonsense. I also needed a creep break after a bit of unpleasantness reminded me that truly ANYONE can read your posts. Eww. But, I am over it. Child predators, please kill yourselves.

I have been preparing and packing for our trip to the Dominican Republic, in which I have been warned agreed NOT to bring my computer (deep breaths). I have not traveled without a laptop since I can't-remember-when and it makes me feel a little veklempt.

This is the moment I realized I had tossed my Blackberry
in the suitcase at some point in the packing process 10 layers down.

 Don't tell Special Agent if I post a blog from the Blackberry. Also, don't look closely at the spelling. It is tough to type a post on those wee, tiny buttons. But I just might do it.

Listen...can you hear typing?

I also need to sneak the computer with me so I can catch up with all of your blogs. I am way behind on your witty and interesting posts. I am sure most of you can relate that each new bit of great writing means you are now following another blog. When your blogroll feels like a "to do" list you are furiously trying to accomplish, The Onion needs to get a grip. On the upside of this, you are all hilarious.

As I lounge on the couch, watching informercials of 30-day body challenges, I realize that I am about 30 days behind in the process with regard to a beach ready body. Oh well, I purposely picked an Americanized resort after a bad experience with a lot of hot Europeans several years ago on our Mexico trip. I hadn't realized real people could be that good looking.

I have never felt so American....it was the mental equivalent
of wearing black socks with sandals....

This time, I am hauling my beach chair closer to this fella:

But....(and I mean that figuratively)..I think I will sit on his other side.

Happy weekend.

When Blogging Gets Creepy

So, I should have know that writing a post about posing nude, even in the interest of ART or to build a better self body image might bring out the kooks.

So NOT pervy..

I received a message to my Facebook Page via my crackberry yesterday from an interesting looking fellow, who shared that he is a photographer, Optical/Aerospace Engineer...and Nudist.


and is 72.


The visual was distracting, but I pressed on.


He shared that he was willing to chat further about my interest in nude modeling.  Of course.


I cocked an eyebrow at the crackberry. He seemed like an odd duck.


I kept reading. He was also from Wyoming. Hmmm.


Nude in Wyoming.


Brr.


I considered this "shared state" business. I wasn't sure if this was a good thing. I like lots of distance in FB stalkers, something I wrote about here.


I have also mentioned here that I have a little obsession with Google. When I got home, I Googled Mr. Nudie just to make sure he wasn't a dangerous somebody.


I pursed my lips and nodded slowly, feeling the eyebrows come out.

Ok, now I am pissed.

He was a dangerous somebody.


In fact, he was a registered sex offender in my fine state. Incest. Further Googling made me sick, and I shuddered that I had even entertained having a conversation with this person in any format. It also caused me to remove all identifying names and places from my Facebook and Blogger account, as well as blocking the writer.


God damn it.


Just made me want to take the whole blog down.


Take this blog and shove it.


Special Agent is going to flip. (Stop flipping Special Agent)


While the writer deserves to have his photo posted, I am not going to share it and exacerbate this situation.


I will however, link to the site where you can check to see the list of sex offenders in your area and make yourself aware of who may be acting like a benign and interested party, but who might really not be someone you want to share time with, period.


http://www.nsopw.gov/Core/Portal.aspx

Search by name, State, City, neighborhood, etc and then prepare to be pissed
off when you realize how MANY there are and how close they live.

Notice: If you are kind of strange, have a lot of layers but are harmless, welcome to my blog. If you have done harm to others, especially children, you can F*** off. Don't come here. 

The Rapture is No Match for The Onion's Self Promoting Behavior

My post is up on BlogHer  (go look. I'll wait. Be sure to notice I am SPOTLIGHTED on the left of the page..) today, after they had a glitch in posting it last week. I blame The Rapture, since my post was not Rapture-supportive.

I was supposed to be featured on the Home Page as well, but that is still MIA.

I blame The Rapture.

In fact, I am going to blame The Rapture for everything that doesn't go my way for the next three months. By then, The Rapture, Part Deaux should be in full swing.

Cable bill is late? Rapture.
Laundry piling up? That's normal, no...RAPTURE!
Late to meeting....you know..it was THE RAP-CHA...


Harold Camping, thanks for being my scapegoat. Love ya.