Camp Tales 2013: part 1, Calf Creek Falls Hike, Utah

Pretty fluffin' amazing, huh?  This is where Doooders and I went on vacation in southern Utah.  And it wouldn't be summer without some good old-fashioned "Camp Tales" right?

 

Well, the hike wasn't what I would call "easy" nor did it offer the worthless ratings-scale that the park service usually offers from "Vigorous" to "Easy."

 

It did say, "Walking can be strenuous, especially in hot weather."  Moronically, I somehow missed this tiny warning in  .008 sized font on my pamphlet.

 

"Doooooder," I stammer breathlessly almost 20 minutes into the hike as I'm covered in perspiration and mosquito-bites, "Did you pack the booze?" I whine.  We brought a tiny bottle of Malibu coconut flavored rum to commemorate the end of the hike, and I needed a nip, NOW.  As in right the fuck NOW.  My mouth watered just thinking of it.

 

"Why no, I thought you did," she replied non-chalantly.  I stifled a whimper and prayed she was kidding.  She wasn't.

 

"N-o-o-o-o-o-o!!!!!  We MUST have booze after this hike.  Let's run back to the car and get it," I pleaded.

 

"No, we must press forward," says Dooders as she marches on, reminding me very much of the drill sergeant in Full Metal Jacket.  Soon, I alarmingly realize that I'm very much short on my water supply.  It's about then that I start feeling stabbing pains in my calves and turn my mind to more pleasant topics such as dehydration and heat-stroke.  Walking through the southern Utah desert is very much like parading through two feet of powdered sugar.  You can never seem to make much progress.  Your feet sink through the 145 degree sand, trying to find purchase while you're stomping slowly through it, marching quite similar to how a zombie wearing snowshoes might march. 

 

"I . . .can . . . no . . . longer go on.  You might have to go on without me," I announce after about 2 hours in.  I fall over a rock and gasp for air.

 

"Oh, you'll be fine.  Think how great it'll feel to be at the falls in the cool, icy water," Doooder replies cheerfully.

 

"I . . . NEED. . . beer," I gasp.  Doooders only shakes her head and we plod on.

 

I suddenly feel for what the Mormons must have endured on their desperate journey through the desert.  My knees hurt; my skin feels like it's peeling off my body I am so hot.  I'm starving, and my back hurts.  Even my eyelashes hurt.  A bevvy of mosquitoes attack me, and one even bites me inside my ear which was simply the last straw.

 

"Acckkkkkkkk!  Jezus!" I scream and sort of throw a full blown temper-tantrum, jumping up and down, purple-faced, hair standing on end, slapping mosquitoes and giving an amazing show to the group of Asian hikers who walk past me, carefully avoiding any eye-contact.  "When the FUCK does this hike end?" I scream.

 

By now, even Doooders begins to wonder if there's really a waterfall at the end.

 

"It's just around this corner," she says dubiously, but of course it's not.

 

Finally, after about a dozen, "It's just right around this corner's" we hit the falls about an hour later.

 

More later.   I promise.

 

 

 

Older Dudes Dating Way Younger Chicks, are you fucking kidding me?

Me and my MAIN Man, Bennie.  Bennie goes for older broads; he's got good taste.

Anyway, today, as I was cruising home from the gym, I saw this dude's S.U.V. who've I'd admired from afar since he's an engineer at the same place that shares my gym (not the same engineer as the guy who's crushing on me, different one this time).  He looks like Justin Bateman only with Drew Carey glasses.  Hot.  Intelligent.  Witty.  I'd put him at 40-something.

One day last year we bumped into each other, and exhanged a few words.  Since then, and the explosive hotness I've felt since then, I've made sure I look hot while cruising by his office window as I head to the gym.

So, today, I was splitting from the gym and rode by Murphy's, this trendy gastro-pub, when I noticed his S.U.V.  Since his S.U.V. stands out in a crowd with its Yakima on top and many bicycle stickers, I knew it was him.  Already, because of his outdoor-enthusiast stickers all over the Yakima, I know we have a ton in common right outta the gate.

Excitedly, I pulled in and went to the patio.  There he was.

GORGEOUS.  Geek Sheik, that he is.  He was sitting with a slightly feminine looking man.

So I plopped down at the outside bar and thought, "He's gay."  Oh, well.  Maybe we can be friends at least some day, do a little biking together, sigh.

Then his friend leaves.

And Hottie walks right by me to go to the restroom.  I wonder if he recognizes me.  How can he not, I wonder as I've been going to this particular gym for years.  And well, damn it, I look good.

But he then goes back to his seat.  A few minutes later a young lady, easily only 25 years old and beautiful sits down next to him.

I study them in the covert way that only I can do.

I note that this young lady is trying to look older (more mature) than she is in years, hence, sophisticated sunglasses, hair in a bun, Ina Garten-style neck scarf that no one her age would wear.  She's as pretty as me, but 25 years ago.

Then she notices me noticing them, only she must not say anything to him, for he never turns around.  Instead, she puts on her dark sunglasses, circa Jackie O'Nasis era.  This is obviously a ploy to watch me, while I'm watching them but appear undetected, for it's not sunny at all where they are sitting.  I'm a fucking writer, a natural detective and damned good at what I do.

Meanwhile, the guys sitting next to me, total strangers, embark on a hillarious conversation about a drunk that they're watching who's passed out a couple tables away.  They engage me, and I pay attention to them for awhile.  Eventually, they leave.  Bummer.  So I go back to watching Hottie and his baby girl.

I was totally confused by Hottie and why he'd be hanging out with this INFANT when there's obviously well-seasoned, hillarious, wild hotter women out there, well, say like me.  Why isn't she snagging some 25 year old with his MBA?  Why my hottie?

Yeah, yeah, yeah, 1945 called, and Bogie wants his fedora back.  I GET that in the "old" days men went for young broads, because men back then, were spoiled rotten in a society that doted on  white men and the privies that they got.

But this is 2013.

What. The. Fuck. Gives?

Summer time, Summer time

Me at the gym, sporting different hair these days for summa-time, summa-time.

So what's new?  Not much.

I met my friend last month, and we had cocktails and a fabulous dinner at Enigma, then he had to dash back home (a couple hours east of here) for work.  He's an engineer and is currently wearing two hats at his workplace.  Is he "hot" like I usually go for, not really.  But he's not fugly at all.  In fact, he has a nice smile and kind eyes.   And he's tall, in shape, etc.  So, we'll see.

And we're friends, and I LIKE it.

I was having a conversation with Cookie yesterday over a beer, about kids, being a single mother, dating.  (I have no kids, but I am a single-doggie mother).  And "dating"  hahahahahahha.  Whatever.

She said, "You know, I just can't see dating at this time.  A blended family, everyone getting along.  I just can't do it.  I don't have time.  My kids take up my time."  I told her I didn't blame her, and I know TWO women who, while their kids were under 18, refused to date at all, focusing their engeries on simply raising their kids.  She said she couldn't agree more, but that her sister had chastised her for not wanting to date anyone.  I, however, commend her.

As it should be.

I'm not sure why women rush into dating so quickly.  I've been "done with dating" since last August.  I can only do friendship first, and well, anything else has simply got to wait.

Anything worth anything is worth waiting for, not rushing through, folks.  But that's my "life of hard knocks" talking, my "truth" as it will.

More later.

They'll be some upcoming "Camp Tales," as Doooders gets here soon.

New Friends and Summer on the Horizon

Ahhhhh, spring is here.

Or so we think.  But I hope it is.

It's Friday, time to flee, and time to meet a new friend.  I'm excited to make a new friend, for we share one big thing: Northern Exposure.

Isn't that grand?

More later.

Feminism and Loss of Identity

Apparently, Once Again, I'm RIGHT

I will admit sadly, because I'm reading this Gloria Steinhem book, and it's rocking my world.  It used to be that I looked around and saw women disappearing into men/relationships left and right.  They'd find a boyfriend, slowly stop hanging out with their old friends.  Sometimes, it'd be abrupt.  They'd find a new boyfriend, and BOOM you would hardly hear from then again . . .  UNTIL they broke up.

Remember in high school, so many girls were so obsessed with finding a boyfriend?  Guys weren't obsessed that way.  Instead, they were obsessed with other things, like goals/sports and sure sex was always on their mind, but not disappearing into a relationship.

If we've made such leaps and bounds with the women's movement, why are girls and women still doing this?

Then I wondered if they were really disappearing, or if I was losing my mind.

Then after I started reading Gloria's Revolution from Within: A Book of Self-Esteem, and she vindicates, using many reports and studies, that women do indeed DISAPPEAR into men, or better put, they disappear into the "relationship."  I feel better: I'm not losing my mind. Thanks, Gloria!

Here's her book.  I recommend it highly for all women who are independent and would like to stay that way.

http://www.amazon.com/Revolution-Within-Self-Esteem-Gloria-Steinem/dp/0316812471/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1366998476&sr=1-1&keywords=gloria+steinem+books

It's not "focusing on their relationship" like Dooders said. It's disappearing into it.  Sure, some men do this too, but it's very rare compared to the rates women do it.

In fact, there's this book dedicated to this very phenomenon:

http://www.amazon.com/Loving-Him-without-Losing-You/dp/0471409790

AND, scads of everyday articles about it such as this:
http://madamenoire.com/195275/the-disappearing-woman-why-do-women-lose-themselves-in-relationships/

As Mamie remembers, Carrie noted from Sex in the City, "If two souls have only one thought between them, something's very wrong."

BINGO.
I have been enchanted with men before, and even obsessed sometimes, but I can say, I have never lost myself.  In fact, the shortest time I dated someone before living with them was a FULL two years, and even then, the guys gave me tons of room, and I never dumped my friends who would have kicked my ass if I did.

So what gives, what with all the modern changes we've made, why do women disappear into a relationship?

Alaska--Where Dreams are Born

My Northern Exposure fans will recognize this one as I was priviledged to go here last summer--ahhhhh.

Alaska.

What is with that place?  I've been obsessed with it as of late.  As my friends know, I've got the soul of an adventurer, an explorer.  One day, with no reason, I just picked up and moved out west to where I am now.  No man, are you kidding me, influenced this.  In fact I had a boyfriend at the time, whom I left to move out here.  No job influenced this, you kidding me?

I just wanted to explore.  This was 14 years ago.

Now, I have a good job, respect, a great house.

Yet, still I find my foot itchy of late.

Alaska.  The Yukon.  What is it?

As Stretchie said to me a few weeks ago, "Neums, why not?  You'd love it there.  Eccentrics, artists, mountain men.  It's YOU."  As Matt is always saying, "Natalie, you'd never come down to the lower 48 again."

Something about that place touches my lone wolf soul, makes me want to buy a truck, fill it with my books and antiques, grab Bennie and just. . . . GO.

I could see living in Unakleet, Palmer or Talkeetna.  Even Anchorage.  I could see infusing the culture with my culinary skills, opening up a bistro and creating masterpieces out of moose and elk.

What is it about that place?  Stay tuned.

Spring Craziness, Spring Fever and Other Musings

If you can't have a sweet doggie begging for his Easter basket, what have you?

What's new?

Well, I'm really proud of one friend of mine who's dating this dude, and just takin' it easy-peasy, slow, nice and healthy.  I think he's teaching her lessons, inadverntantly, about herself.  So it's fun to see.  He's not her "the one" but who cares?  Why do we Americans put so much stress on that?  Just have fun and live in the Eckert Tolle moment.

What else?  Talked with an old friend of mine, whom I adore.  She's vice pres. and CEO of one of our nation's biggest mobile phone companies, yet, she's as humble a person I've known, and I've known her for almost 30 years.  She's what I call a "natural feminist."

A Natural Feminist doesn't have to toot her own horn. She's not into material possessions, comparing herself to the Joneses.  She doesn't NEED kids to define herself, and she doesn't disappear into a man either.

She just, well, just IS.

I love how the universe has been moving me along to these great women-friends.  And I'm chomping at the bit to read Gloria Steinem's Revolution From Within.

Ironically, there's a wealthy, attractive, Harley-riding, grounded mechanical engineer-investment banker who's interested in me locally.  Meh.  He's nice, and I told him we can most certainly explore our friendship. 

It's funny.  When you're entirely 100% independant and comfortable, really good men are attracted to that.  Maybe it's the chase?  I'm not desperate and love my quiet life.  I do not disappear into a man, nor do I need one to feel completed.  Or maybe it's the calm from within that they like?  Either way, I'm in the moment and have no hurries.

Stay tuned, folks. And simply just love the moment.