August 22, 2009
We were up “early” to get ready for horseback riding at 8:30 with Forest Bramble (what a name!) of Astraddle-A-Saddle Outfitters! (“Early” means I didn’t get my second cupacoffee in bed.) We were late, what with the need to stop at a gas station to pinch a loaf at the flush toilets and all. [That is what my journal actually says. I seriously debated the appropriateness of this term for all the world to see and have decided to Hell with it. That is why were were late: we were all holding out for the flush toilets — finding them preferable to squatting amid the sagebrush– which I had already done, thank you very much — and it took a bit longer than we had budgeted for.] It didn’t matter; Forest wasn’t bothered none.
What a cutie!! Shockingly young and handsome cowboy with blue/green eyes. Just the right height and temperament for our own blue-eyed Morgan! Imagine the babies! [yes. more inappropriate comments from the journal writer]
It was another hot, hot day. Dave rode Bandit the paint, Jen rode Patrick with the sore leg (“gol dang it”), Morgan rode Norman, a wild horse rescued from the US Gov’t and Charlie rode naughty Midnight. Five hours is, we have determined today, the Menke horseback riding limit. Fur Sure. We all loved Forest though, whose name turned out to be BRAMWELL, not BRAMBLE, which isn’t nearly as interesting. He ended up being, in addition to simply adorable, this hot dawg, World Class, Professional Rodeo Star! Great stories, super nice guy. And I just can’t wait to call him my son-in-law. Did I mention he is setting off for a new adventure in November? Le Cordon Blue Cooking School! [I kid you not. Can you imagine that reality show?] I’m sure he will teach Morgan everything he knows once they are settled in a few years. She can marry when she’s 16, right?
I digress. After riding [my butt and only my butt was sore for the next 5 days], we poked around Pagosa for a bit and then hit my all-time favorite restaurant, Kips Cantina. Everyone was very happy with their taco selections and we finished the meal by stealing a few packets of mayo from the table for sandwiches and listening to Paul Guillian… (?) an acoustic guitar/singer/songwriter. Very nice.
Storms looked to be moving in as we headed “home” to Pinion Hills. Sitting by the campfire, listening to thunder, watching lightening and trying to discern just how far away the “ghost singer” that we could intermittently hear was. Course, I could never actually call him a “ghost singer” out loud with Charlie in earshot. We’d a never been able to calm him down and get him settled. The baby tarantula was traumatic enough.
Morgan was blowing one greasy fart after another saying how full she was. Meanwhile Charlie said “I’m hungry.” Dave said, “Why don’t you have a piece of bread?” And Charlie replied, “Bread? At this hour?” Which for some reason struck me and insanely funny. Needless to say, he promptly trooped off and got himself a piece of bread and made some Signature Toast. While Charlie was gone, and after a particularly impressive lightening bolt, Dave said, “Good thing we’re sitting on these metal chairs in the middle of nowhere.” Morgan and I both freaked out and said “Shhhh! That’s the last thing you can say in front of Charlie, the StormWorrier!” His eyes get as round as saucers whenever really bad weather moves in. If he had any idea that we could be struck by lightening, well… You might as well just shoot me in the head now. Maybe he’ll grow up to be one of those StormSpotter people who call into WCCO during thunderstorms saying things like “I’m on 494 and it’s raining real hard. And it’s dark, too…”
8/23/09 Before I get to 8/23, there is one more thing that happened: The Incident of the Moth. Charlie (poor Char, he is really getting picked on today) was in bed reading aloud this very tome, when he sort of coughed and laughed and then coughed again. We all waited for him to continue, but instead he sort of started moaning. He was like, “oh. my gosh. It’s a huge moth! ….” then, “ooooh ooooh, oooooooooooh…”(moaning) Lots of chaos later, Dave got the moth outside. Charlie had apparently inhaled and sort of bit and choked on the moth, then spit it out and laughed until he realized it was a moth. We couldn’t stop laughing and he couldn’t stop crying. He was so upset and grossed out and we just kept on laughing.
We don’t raise no sissies in the Menke family, no sir.