A few years back our niece sent me a “Flat Stanley” but created and styled to look more like her fabulous self. 👑 If you hadn’t guessed already, I am exactly the type of person who your child should send a Flat Stanley or Flat Savannah to!
I added the scorpion lollipop 🤣🌵
At that time I was volunteering at a local museum. Me and my new flat pal went everywhere!!
This reminded me of quite possibly THE best prank ever pulled on me by a few of the funniest and most creative individuals I was blessed with befriending at the Phx Zoo.
Our Experience Team was sent a Flat Stanley. I was thrilled and also put in charge of it!! With an entire Zoo at my disposal, plus being the Senior at the time (meaning I had access to some seriously cool stuff!!) I all but lost my mind at the chance to goof off on that level and take photos all in the name of education!!!
Yes I was standing there !! Yes Paige took me out there on my very last day 👑💚yes this was a screen shot from my computer because nothing was cooperating this morning!!! Zuri and Makope 💚👑I am obviously the less smarter of the two of us 🤣 Thank You Jessica for a last day I’ll never forget ❤️
I treated that Flat Stanley like VIP! We went to the best of it all!
On my day off my evil friends Michelle CN and Ben Brose plus who knows who else was in on it, ( you all know who you are!) started sending me photos of my Flat Stanley roaming the Zoo! 😳
Stanley was on the zip line !
Stanley was going nuts!
Next thing I know Stanley has a sling on his arm and crutches !!😳
I start losing my shit at these two via text screaming that I have to send this thing back on behalf of the PHX Zoo!! Wtf are you doing?!?( super professional but it was my day off and I now have a Flat Stanley with a leg cast, an arm in a sling , crutches they have made …)
Uh laughing their asses off behind the scenes. 🤣🤣💚That’s what they were doing!
They had made a duplicate Stanley on the copier and were hell bent to turn him into the next star of Jackass!!🤣🤣🤣🤣 I don’t have photos of this mayhem but if you guys do please share !
Omg did they get me good!🤬😤😂🤣😂We all had harassed each other before by doing dumb stuff to our desks ect . But this was brilliant.
Fit for a Princess 👑 Michelle my pretty pretty princess
Now that I have the nonprofit Desert Nature Alliance and am free of serious pranksters! I would love to get more Flat Whoever’s and enjoy sharing more of this desert with whoever wants too!!!#goodtimes #flatstanley
Sitting outside in front of my mini DNA museum/workshop, melting in the Arizona sun, I am doing the very unglamorous part of my field work, cleaning up recently found bird parts and bits (I have a special permit, don’t trip out, I’m legal) Using a bucket of rain water to clean my hands and what not, out of the corner of my eye I see something bizarre.
Whoa!
Iridescent green is catching the intense sun and beaming from the bucket next to me. The color is so glorious and shimmering I’m immediately mesmerized.
Born and raised desert , using all the animal knowledge I possess, I’m only vaguely familiar with what I am staring at. My limited background around insects tells me it’s a huge beetle. I can’t identify it further than that without Google. But honestly, look at it!! Such a fabulous looking beetle, covered head to toes with an insane level of iridescent green sparkle, this beetle must be part of the community.🌈 These shimmering creatures probably only vacation here in Gold Canyon. The monsoon rains must have ushered them in. Honestly I have no clue if this type of beetle is even dangerous or deadly. End of my TED Talk.
Okay?!?!
I scoop it out of the water and onto a stack of paper to dry. I’m covered in flies and sweat and filth and need to clean up and go shower before taking pictures of my new green friend and finding it a place in the collection.
I’m special and I know it.
The AZ sun is so intense it makes outdoor photography hard at certain times of the day. I wanted to make sure I could capture all the colors bouncing of this beetles entire body. Exhausted from working in the heat, I figured I would come up with a better lighting situation after a shower and a bong load.
Sitting at the table, talking to my husband about work, debating on whether I should eat or nap, Jay looks over at the beetle on my desk and says “ uh babe, it’s moving”
What? No…I took that crazy looking thing out of a bucket full of water almost 30 minutes ago! It’s alive?
Can’t stop won’t stop just keep movin
Why yes, it was.
And still is! After I took enough photos and videos of this insane looking creature we moved it to under a flowering bush in the shade . Good luck you fabulous green flying machine 🌵💚👍
I step inside the door, away from the intense Arizona heat, to the freezing sensation of cold air being blown at me. I stop. It takes my body a minute to adjust and not faint. The long walk across the huge parking lot in triple digit heat has me dripping sweat through to my bra. The cold air has turned my sweat into wet and I am shivering. Take off my sunglasses and toss them into my purse. I squint as the lights inside are too bright, not sunlight bright, fluorescent bright and now I am questioning whether I should put my glasses back on or let my eyes water and adjust.
Popular music from the 1980’s is playing loudly. I don’t mind it. The songs bring me back to high school and are surprisingly not the typical, overplayed top forty. I sing along as I go. There are very few people around me so I feel less awkward and self conscious being alone, blurry eyed and still so sweaty .
I turn the corner and see all the seats at the bar are full. Puzzled, I grab my phone to check the time. It couldn’t be after noon already? No, it was still 11:30 am or so. I hadn’t lost time. It was still fairly early and during the middle of the week. Out of curiosity I look over to see what everyone is drinking. Mostly beers and wines.
At this point in my life I am not much of a drinker at all. I am a stoner. Drinking beer, any time of the day, is really not appealing to me. Morning or night, the flavor is kind of gross. I will drink one with sushi or chips and salsa but I really can’t seem to drink more than a few sips of beer before I feel really full and have to pee. I can not imagine drinking wine that early in the morning either. I can and do imagine myself smoking a bowl that early, so no judgements here.
Years ago an intoxicated girlfriend once told me her stellar wine drinking philosophy which I actually stand by to this day.
Her: “You don’t drink wine so I’ll show you. It’s three sips! It’s the three sip rule! Ok so the first sip you take is like ugh what am I drinking? The second sip is like ok this isn’t thaaaat bad. Then by the third sip you’re like hey?!? this shits good! And there you have it! You’re drinking wine!”
This handy yet somewhat slurred advice got me through my first glass of red wine at a formal business party with out me making a complete ass of myself and is how I have judged “good” wine ever since. If I do not need to take “three sips” before I am smiling and claiming “this shits good!” please go buy another bottle!
I am now staring at the bar and realize if I don’t stop day dreaming I am never going to get out of this Grocery Store and finish my errands.
Yes, I am at the grocery store!
This mammoth sized freezing cold building I have entered contains everything from Starbucks to patio furniture to clothing to flowers to a Pharmacy. I can easily get my 10,000 steps in here anytime I come without a shopping list. Complete with blaring 80s music and a wine/ beer bar if you need a drink for the strength or courage to finish “filling the house with food so you can eat this week” grocery shopping!
I am NOT in Walmart. That, to me, is the funny part. I expect Walmart to be huge and carry every item imaginable. I expect Walmart to be a somewhat crazy, disorienting experience with music in the parking lot that is not the same music playing inside the store. If I dress badly or oddly enough, I could and probably should end up online as one of their infamous shoppers! A Walmart excursion at this point in my life requires a day to mentally prepare that I am going, then a two day rest period after to recover. Walmart doesn’t have a bar.
But I guess my local grocery stores need to compete with Walmart and Target so, step right up ! Beer and Wine is now being served! Take the edge off that inflated food bill! One more round you wont care how much ground beef is per pound!
The Bar at Fry’s
I am standing with my empty cart next to self serve donuts. There is Sushi, a deli and a bakery on my left with a bar serving drinks to my right. Up ahead of me is frozen fish. Rock the Kasbah is playing loudly in the middle.
It’s almost Noon and I probably should have eaten before coming. I have no idea what I am supposed to be shopping for anymore and have left my list at home. My brain wanders to what it must be like to be the bartender at the grocery store.
Do grocery store bartenders get hit on like the ones in a club? Do random grocery shoppers ask the bartender to send a drink to an attractive stranger at the end of the bar? Omg does the grocery store bartender really get to watch two random grocery shoppers start drinking then hook up? How far is the bathroom from the bar? The mental images and questions flood in.
My experience with bartenders is from back in the days when I was much younger and would go party on the weekends with friends after work. Taking shots of whatever liquor was sent to the table, my happy place was out on the dance floor. I have never told a bartender my life story but I have been cut off from being served, kicked out, and once, in Vegas, had a bartender grab my entire right arm and wildly tape a glass to my hand because I accidently dropped my last drink into the part of a slot machine where your coins come out!
My brain drifts off again…Do grocery store drinkers get rowdy? Does it become a party in here after 5? I can’t be trusted around an open olive bar after a glass of wine!!!
The lady behind the bakery counter is now staring at me. I’ve hovered around the cookies and sliced cakes with an empty cart this entire time staring at the bar. We make eye contact. She cocks her head to the side as asks “Can I help you?” in a tone more or less suggesting I was mentally unstable rather than was I looking for a tart. I laugh and say “no I’m good.” I cut her slack mostly because I have never had to work all day around delicious sugary treats I can not eat and stare at a bar I can not drink at. The frustration seems real. And yes, I am sure I looked weird at this point. Time for me to finish shopping, or start and get out of there.
I wind up buying maybe half of what I actually needed. The distractions in the store beat me this time. I will have to return, with a list.
If you ask anyone currently living on this planet “whose body has had the most influence on women?” before you could finish your sentence, answers starting with a K would come flying at you! And I would argue rightfully so. Whether it is Kim or Kylie, Kendall, Khloe or Kravis (🖤) they all can easily be identified as influential bodies. Tiny waists, full curves. Magazine cover worthy bathing suit bodies that women across the globe envy and pursue at all costs.
But when it comes to men, who would you say has their attention? What male form is thrust at the young men of Instagram or Tic Tock destroying their self esteem? Who has the body men are starting to emulate en masse?
Real Store Mannequins
Shape wear for women is nothing new. Pain is part of beauty right? Corsets to shrink your waist, push up bras, padding here and there, women have been amateur contortionist since the dawn of time . Foot binding anyone?
Foot Binding. Remember this photo always ladies. Never. Again.
All for one main purpose of attracting attention, sexual attention. To be considered wanted, desired, the ultimate female. Modern science has given us ways to make our boobs bigger or smaller, bubble that butt, suck out fat and move it else where, insert, lift, tuck , you name it ladies, if you got the cash or are willing to travel, we can get it done! Bathing suit worthy body baby !!Just in time for summer! If you are especially brave enough to order a K bathing suit made with the sheerest fabric ever, god love ya 👑👍 I’m sticking with more industrial strength supportive material! I ride water slides, I don’t wear heels to the pool.
Pool worthy 🖤👑 me
Most of us women come no where near K level of air brushed photo enhanced hotness but we try. Look around and you will find no shortage of fake eye lashes, excessively long dagger nails, high heels or overly lined lips in the general Walmart shopping female population. No matter the height weight age color, ladies are giving us looks👑
But men have gone a different direction it seems. No shape wear brand flooding the male market. No sir! Men have gone aggressively the opposite direction from fit and fabulous!! Stretched t shirts, bellies hanging over the belt, flip flops with toes that can climb a tree. We won’t call this latest look “grunge” , no that was an actual style , attitude and music all it’s own. I’m not sure who is leading this latest sloppy, pregnant looking male effort.
I guarantee it’s not Chris Hemsworth nor was it his name who you shouted out!
Though Chris ( can I call you Chris ?) is obviously putting in the same amount of effort and dietary restrictions any K does in making his body as close to perfection as he can, he is not being emulated anywhere near to the same degree by his fellow man . Why not boys? His body is million dollar Hollywood budget movie star worthy. Find a flaw. Go ahead, let’s all scan his photo for the next 5 minutes and see what we find!
Lately when I go anywhere, more often than not, there is an abundance of men with what appears to be a pregnant style belly! The complete opposite of what Chris has! So if he or his body is NOT what the average male is striving for, who’s body is it? Shouldn’t this full bellied leader be out and proud and have the same spotlight and scrutiny any K has? Is he some hidden secret? Where are his magazine covers? When did he start making this kind of influence on the male form? The Dad Bod was no longer good enough??? Apparently a fuller male belly is now the trend.
Sorry bro your Dad bod is no longer cool
Maybe I don’t have a large enough social circle, but none of my girls or guys who enjoy guy, have told me they think a flat butt combined with a hard, round, hair covered, protruding belly so big they can’t see if his penis is hard, is sexy as hell and quite the turn on. Haven’t had that conversation yet.
I can remember growing up watching TV and seeing “Rerun” Fred Berry and his suspenders on What’s Happening. He was the “big one” on the show. When I rewatch Rerun now he doesn’t seem so large at all. He also danced!!!! A lot! And had a fun personality that people wanted to be around.
Nowadays when I see one of these full bellied bros out in public they are proud and they are angry. No dance moves here. Just outwardly trying to antagonize anyone with an ill fitting slogan shirt of the flag or even by decorating their vehicles. Having the full tight belly is not enough. Are the suspenders making a comeback?
Look, if a T body is what you want your body to look like, I say go for it! By all means you don’t have to hide your want! Us women fully understand wanting KKs body! If you, as a man, want to choose a T body with extra belly button lint then I think you have every right to do so! If covering that shape with red white and blue makes you less angry then by all means please flag it up! Shorten that life span! No one is stopping that.
Thick
Being perceived as having an “attitude” comes with the focus on your looks. Women get accused all the time of being superficial, snotty, petty etc. She’s a bitch. She doesn’t smile. If you are too nice as a pretty female it’s taken as flirting. Too serious you are bitchy. “Emotional female” is the favorite slur of a certain brand of over due men.
As a man, why hide the fact you think the 70 something year old T man has a great body and you are actively pursuing one of your own? It’s ok to have a crush. Everyone is entitled to their opinions. If you enjoy a T body in a pair of shorts and no shirt plus a stiff, dumb, never been in style red hat, have at it. I say order up a supersized fast food meal with extra ketchup and a side of blue pills, Diet Coke. Grease is the word ….
There are plenty of hard bodied men on the big screen that could and should be used as the every man’s goal to the delight of women and gay men everywhere! But our American men seem to have said NO to that idea all together.
Yes please
In the original movie Top Gun, Val and Tom play beach volleyball shirtless to the delight of millions. For the most recent Top Gun remake, they also included a beach volleyball scene that most of the men stayed on a strict diet to film. For the Baywatch remake, Zac Effron showed us a spectacular washboard. Magic Mike has amazing male dancers… No one got an award, just saying. On the flip side, if a man gains a tremendous amount of weight or muscles ( Matthew , Christian?) or loses a ton for a “serious” role he is up for awards by the film academy.
ALL of these male actors have openly spoke about what it takes, what they could not eat, what is does to their bodies , how hard they work out in order to be on screen, cheat days and huge amounts they eat afterwards. Yet there is zero written about what these men are doing is as bad an influence as any K. Men manipulate their bodies or not and still expect to be considered award winning leading men. Of course us women should find them attractive no matter what! Money fixes all male shortcomings right?
K lost weight to fit into a dress and got the full attack from the press , the internet, the pope. How dare she get that waist any smaller! How dare she look good wet! Jealousy is a bitch.
I find it odd that men with such large bellies believe so strongly in their superiority over women .
Across the board, any subject, the man belly holds all wisdom. Born that way I guess. Otherwise I have no clue where this supposed man only be best knowledge comes from. Silly mansplainer, our phones are light years smarter than you and un like your small penis, in a woman’s hand constantly. Realize I can out run you! I’m in great shape! One hundred percent know I will use you and your belly to hide behind as needed in the event one of your friends starts shooting up the place.
Sure boss, anything you say….
What? Am I not allowed to say I don’t find men who should use suspenders to hold up their pants attractive? Sorry, I don’t. I find it gross. You can take one look at me and go throw up in a trash can if that’s how you feel. Write about it. It’s a free country, for now.
I can skin a rattlesnake. I own a giant hairy scorpion and a big curly haired tarantula as pets. I have photographed my face next to a rotted Javelina carcass. I can do all of that and still not get the shock that I do when I say I enjoy golf.
Golf?!? Wha?? You golf? Since when???
I guess it’s more believable that I am spiritual and weirdly sensitive to energy or that I’m slightly off and who knows what I’m up to. Everyone seems good with that. But the visual of me on a golf course, for some, is as foreign as me in snow.
The high desert in CA where I grew up was not a hotbed of golf courses. I’m not sure there were maybe one or two local courses at the most. I don’t remember him playing or owning clubs yet growing up, golf was on T.V. every Sunday with my Dad holding the remote hostage. I knew all the top players’ names. I learned the scoring. I heard the whispering announcers tell us to watch in silence from our living rooms in another state because one peep could ruin the final putt for the win!
I hated it.
So, what changed? Why golf now? Why would someone like me choose a sport like golf?
Roughly 20 years ago I met Jay. The day we met I was coming home from Disneyland, he was coming home from golfing. He loves the sport. His addiction for golf took up where my Dads had left off.
With Jay now in my world I was again hearing the familiar sounds of the hushed announcers, but with new names and faces. It still didn’t make me run out and buy clubs. I did start playing here and there with whatever club Jay handed me but would rather be driving the cart.
My father had never encouraged me to play golf. Jay always has.
See, back then, my “why I was playing” was different. I wanted Jay to be proud of me out there. I wanted him and probably others to be impressed. My expectations where grossly misguided from years of only watching pros and never having watched real humans golf. It discouraged me horribly when I sucked at this very expensive “game”. Intimidated by the beauty and size of a real golf course and the very real water hazards in front of me, I felt embarrassed and extremely self-conscious.
Truth be told, most golfers hit balls everywhere and so do the pros. That’s why they yell “Fore!” But the T.V camera angles change your perception of what it’s really like to be out there. My head was so full of “watch the ball- stand like this- swing don’t miss-ohmygod are people watching” I surely didn’t enjoy it. Golf was frustrating, awful and long.
I wish I had known back then that Golf was exactly what my brain needed.
I’m creative. My brain goes all over the place randomly. As I have aged, and my hormones have started running amok, my brain and body have seen some not so enjoyable severe highs and lows. Oh sure, you can add chemicals to the mix and see what works or helps but meditation does not come in pill form. Meditation and exercise are top on any list of ways to help yourself heal.
My brain isn’t going to allow me to just sit idly and clear my thoughts. Oh no, it’s going to beat me up about not doing anything while I “just sit”. I have that mental issue that I think I have never done enough. Never good enough. My brain wants to be in constant motion to keep happy.
To play golf you need to be able to clear your mind. Shut out distractions. Focus. Visualize. Be the ball. Multitasking and golf do not go hand in hand. Life’s other bullshit cannot be anywhere near your brain.
The game of golf itself is simple right? Hit the ball with the metal stick into the cup. Go. You’re on your own. No one even keeps your score. It’s up to you to be honest.
I have good hand eye coordination yet can swing and miss a ball right in front of me. If I get mad about it, my swing will automatically become worse. If I can focus and find that small spot I can hit the ball. If my body relaxes it will flow and swing. If there is stress and tension my body will hit the ball wrong or simply miss altogether. So sure, it’s a “simple” game.
There is even Tai Chi for golf to help with the flow.
Honestly the minute I stopped playing golf for a score but rather for my peace of mind it all changed. The minute I accepted I was new and learning and took off all the expectations, my swing improved. My goal was no longer trying to impress. My goal had become much more personal. Golf was a tool I was using to make me feel better not to become famous.
Putting areas are free. I can practice whenever I want. I have my own driving range and mats at home or can go to any of the courses nearby to practice. I am outside, fresh air, green grass, walking, moving, and most importantly playing. I’m playing. It isn’t anything more than that.
Keep it simple. Don’t make it harder than it already is. Visualize where you are going. Don’t rush, you can walk there. The tranquility and the beauty of a golf course gives me a setting where challenging myself feels less like I’m under an attack.
Yesterday, as I’m bundling up to go work outside, I walk pass the living room window and see a person walking along the back part of our property down by the shed. We live on what I like to refer to as “2.5 acres of leave me the fuck alone”. I have done my time living in close proximity to others and really prefer having acreage as a buffer. Our property is WAY out by the Superstition Mountain. Who is this person and why are we walking out here?
I grab my walking stick and head out unsure what I am getting ready to face. I regularly wear steel toe boots on the property for safety. I’m wearing leggings, jeans, two shirts, two flannels and a head wrap because it’s 50 degrees outside. This lizard needs heat she can peel away as she works up a sweat.
Now three times my actual size, I stomp outside to greet the intruder.
Oblivious and casually walking, it’s an elderly woman armed with a camera. I can take her.
I yell down to her “Hey! Can I help you???”
“…No.” She answers and continues on her trek towards my water tank.
My face at that moment had to have been priceless.
What the hell is happening this morning? Another reason why I’m not a fan of Mondays.
I am now forced to hike on down to have a more personal conversation and to be honest I’m not smiling and sweet. I’m annoyed. Like I mentioned, I’m on 2.5 acres and had no intention of walking the perimeter of it when it’s “freezing” outside first thing in the morning.
As I get closer she’s startled. She roughly in her 70’s, thin, socks with her semi- appropriate hiking sandals, loose legging type pants and light jacket. I again ask her if she needs something. Confused she says, “This isn’t a road?” We are standing next to my water tank. Yes, its technically a dirt road that does not lead anywhere but my property.
This is where it gets better. “Does this take me to the Heiroglyphics Trail?” she asks. “They said it was within walking distance. An easy hike.”
Only locals will openly laugh at this. And I did as I hung my head shaking it. Who the hell sent this poor woman so far off track? We are roughly 3 miles from the parking lot of that trail. I refuse to tell anyone a hiking trail in this desert “easy”.
Thank heavens it’s not Summer, she didn’t go much further and get lost or hurt!
I’m not saying that to be dramatic, I’m serious. She had no water with her and she was alone. Though out casually walking, she was oblivious to the much-documented fact that my property is a thoroughfare for a healthy pack of coyote and a growing herd of javelina with baby in tow. Had I allowed her to continue on she could have easily walked right over to the main wash all the animals use.
It’s cold for the desert so she was not really all that in danger of meeting a rattler but again all bets are off when a reptile needs heat and comes out to find a spot in the sun.
We have a sign that reads “Private Driveway” with a Certified Wildlife Habitat sign right below it. She said she thought it was for the other property where she was staying and dismissed it.
One of the things I giggled about when we bought the property was the entrance having a chain across. Why would Elwood and Gerd need a chain? Cute elderly couple who had been living up on a hill way out in the desert for years, really a chain is necessary to keep people out?
We don’t use it most the time but found out quickly it proves useful certain times of the year.
Now I’m being reminded our Snowbirds are back and the chain needs to start going back up. Visitors flocking from anywhere its cold and snowy to come soak up our perpetual sun. They are easy to spot, they have on much less clothing than the locals and they are pale.
As I escort my lost Snowbird back up to the front driveway she tells me she is staying in the house next to us. He air BnB’s it or whatever. “It’s huge inside!” she marvels “… have you been in there? Lots of rooms….”
Yeah lady lots of rooms not as many windows. H.H. Holmes style construction. 6000 square feet of crazy is situated right next to my property line. No, I haven’t gone in that place for a visit. I prefer to watch him from a distance half assed roller brush it with blood red paint.
I say none of this out loud.
We stop at the beginning of my driveway. As she continues talking I find myself feeling guilty about how I reacted to her earlier. The nice woman standing before me had simply been lost. She meant no harm. But because of having lived my life, I am not all that trusting, seen too much. My first animal instinct was to protect. Protect me and mine. But somehow my Momma Stace protection mode had shifted into keeping HER safe. I had stopped growling at her.
By this point I had relaxed enough to share stories of the mountain and encouraged her to go over to the Superstition Mountain Museum to learn more then sent her back over to where she came from.
It’s the end of December, New Year’s Eve to be exact. It’s that perfect time of year to buy Valentine’s Day candy! Oh yes! Nothing shows how much you care like giving your loved one oddly flavored mass-produced candy purchased a month and a half early off a shelf still warm from unsold mass-produced Christmas candy! Buy now while supplies last!
Don’t already have a Valentine? You’re an inferior human being if you don’t have a Valentine! Better start the on-line hunt for one now…only 45 days left! Search while supplies last.
Never mind that barely a week ago you were an inferior human being if you didn’t have a beautifully lit tree in your home with slightly beat up Amazon packages full of the latest gadgets underneath! You better have attended lavish parties and ate tons of rich foods!
Never mind that the month before that you HAD to have a huge turkey dinner complete with all the fixin’s along with a large happy family to share it with?
Remember? That was right after the mandatory Halloween candy overload that started in September. It all goes by so fast.
That’s why today, New Year’s Eve, you HAVE to sign that gym membership! Before time runs out.
Gym memberships and Valentine’s Day candy. Start the New Year off right!
You had your fill of pumpkin lattes and pumpkin Cherrios and pumpkin Pop Tarts. You ate and drank enough artificially flavored gingerbread to hold you for another six months. Now its cherry/strawberry time! The official flavors of February even though it’s still December.
These two enhanced flavors and shades of red food dye will be found everywhere and in everything, so you will have no excuse not to consume! consume! consume!
There most certainly is a pinkish red energy drink that will look just fine with your new work out ensemble when you want to show the other new gym members what’s up during your bi-weekly, ten-minute, walk jog on the treadmill.Gotta get ready for those Shamrock Shakes coming for a limited time in March you know! March is green. Beer is green in March. It’s a fact. It’s coming soon. Get ready.
The Unicorn Frappuccino appeared last year in April. Unicorns are magical. All colors and forms of sugar are magically and sparkly available!
Also arriving in April is Easter so feel free for the entire month of March to add some Peeps and some jelly beans into your diet! All Easter candy will be readily available February 15th.Can’t be inferior you know! Did you get a basket or at the very least a chocolate bunny?
May is prep time for Bathing Suit season which is right around the corner! So it’s back to the gym…!
Yesterday morning I look out the window and see a large white and brown animal laying by the shed in the shade. My brain is not fully awake so I think “cow”? Hey, all kinds of crazy happens out here, I count nothing out anymore.
Quickly I realize I’m staring at a big stray dog.
It’s early morning but being AZ it’s already hot out. I’ve never seen this dog before. We live in a very open desert and this is a large dog, who knows how far he could have traveled.
Water is my first instinct. Get this animal water. So slowly I wander down repeating the word “Water” as nicely as I could and slowly set down the bowl. I walk away but see the bowl is too far so I must creep closer. It is at least 100 degrees outside and climbing.
I grab a hunk of ice and fill the bowl and basically forced to set it in the sun and walk away. The dog is not growling but not approaching. It’s too hot and I don’t want to stress this poor thing. I patrol from the top looking for cars slowly driving or anyone calling out. Nothing. But from back up at the house I see the bowl has worked and we are drinking up a storm.
Too early to start a FB campaign I figure I can call around and see if anyone has reported a missing dog etc… I was not successful in getting help from the local Sheriff non-emergency line or animal control.
I look online but don’t see anything about a horse sized missing dog in Gold Canyon.
I need to leave for the Museum at 11:30. Expected highs of 115 for the day. I know the only shade is going to be in my carport so I leave another bowl of water there hoping the dog will come up the hill to shelter.
I can barely drive away in good conscience, it’s too hot to be outside safely for any length of time, but this dog won’t come near me. I can’t see a tag.
Literally around the corner from our house is a fire station. I stop. Three stupidly attractive 6ft tall chiseled men answer the door. I give them all the information I can and tell them please go by if you can or do what you can. Except I am so flustered I cannot spell my street name…Iroquois. But I am wearing my “Resist” shirt with Smokey the bear so I had that going for me.
I came home about four hours later to a big, hot dog running alongside my car. Not sure how this is going to play out, I open the door and that poor thing all but climbed in my lap! WATER!!!
He had dug a hole in the carport to the center of the earth trying to get to cooler ground I’m sure.
Roughly three large bowls of water later we were best of friends. I opened the garage and brought out a fan.
Now, I have to figure out my life. I have three dogs of my own inside the house who are small, out of their minds, and won’t be good hosts to our new guest. In an hour my daughter, her boyfriend and his parents are coming over.
At this point the animal we are all calling “Big Guy” has proven to be nothing but a love. Every car pulled up to a warm but not overzealous reception. Thank goodness because this is not a small dog.
After everyone left, my husband went off to post more signs. I sat in the dark outside with the Big Guy trying to come up with a safe sleeping plan for all of us that included air-conditioning.
When he flopped over beside me I knew we were safe to come be inside near me for the night. The bonding had happened. We both had quite the day.
Like I spoil any creature who comes to visit, we grabbed a big soft blanket, some snacks, turned on the tv and exhausted collapsed.
Ding. The phone. Face Book does it again. My daughter has found the post for this missing beast now snoring at the foot of my bed.
Davis.
His loving family came for him this morning, tiny daughter happy to have her Davis back. They don’t live far I’m happy to report. Davis hadn’t spent horrible amounts of time in discomfort. Just a few good football fields away was his home, but travel through just enough hot open desert and it’s easy to get lost.
I’m lying in bed propped up under too many pillows. I am coughing up my lungs, alternating hot cold flashes, parts of my hips, shoulders and back throb with enough pain I’m considering having all of those parts removed.
I’ve been home from Colorado for less than 24 hours. While there I eagerly wandered/hiked my way up to 7000 or so feet above sea level to take in the views. Mother Nature however made sure to make it very clear to me that if I had any intentions of continuing my trek up any higher without the proper time to acclimate she was going to make my lungs explode.
Now don’t start picturing me out there all alone. I was driven out to this beautiful area and guided through this new experience by two extremely capable 20 year CO residents. Lifelong friends I adopted as family in jr.high, their abilities far exceed mine in that terrain or otherwise. I was in good hands.
I have also made sure to not shut up for most of the hike because
A. I am truly excited to be there with Laura
B. I talk a lot normally and…
C. I am losing oxygen and don’t know it yet.
One of my all-time favorite books is “Into Thin Air” by Jon Krakauer about the 1996 Mt. Everest disaster where 8 climbers were killed. It is written so fantastically well that you take the amazing journey with him to the top of the world then watch in horror as Mother Nature reminds us all her power we cannot equal and that we are tiny specks in comparison easily blown off the side of a Mt.
Born in Las Vegas and raised in the deserts of Southern California, I am fascinated reading about the effects of altitude and the incredible elite athletes who can now summit Mt Everest without supplemental oxygen. You truly have no idea how your body will react to altitude change or at what point. It can make you very sick and can be deadly. This is not something to ignore or pretend it doesn’t exist or is fake news. Our bodies need oxygen.
I know I will never summit Mt. Everest or any of the world’s highest peaks, but I would love to get to explore beautiful parts of the country above sea level and want to spend more time closer to the Rocky Mountains. They are spectacular to behold. Much like the Superstition Mountains, the Rockies command your attention and send off an energy that can be life changing. Add in the flowers and wildlife and it’s almost too much for this lizard’s heart and lungs to take. Todays hike was local to Loveland CO. Arthurs Rock.
We began the hike at a slow pace allowing me to take in the scenery. The first noticeable reaction to the altitude change was a yawn. I’m awake and my body feels good as we hike on through a meadow but I’m yawning as I’m happily goofing off trying to twirl and sing the Sound of Music. We stop to let me get my bearings and some water. It’s not much longer before my head is in a fish bowl and my ears are plugged and popping.
I did not feel dizzy until we reached the top. The view is awesome and I was proud to have done it but I was also now starting to get my first taste of what an extreme altitude change can do physically and knew that an hour plus hiking up means at least an hour of hiking back down, unless you take a good toe kick to a rock and gravity takes you down faster and I was not hoping for that type of assistance.
Round trip our hike was roughly 5 miles in about 3 hours. On paper, just an average hike.
I had spent the past 4 days at least at a mile-high elevation flying into Denver and made one trip up to around 7000 elevation driving to Estes Park. But quite obviously that was not enough time for my dusty dried desert lungs to handle slight humidity and what felt like half the normal amount of oxygen I require to not flop over.
Within a few hours of returning from our hike and showering my right eye puffed up as if I had an allergic reaction and it is still possible that’s all that was. I have a couple of small sores in my mouth and now I’m coughing consistently and can’t drink enough water to stop the dehydration. I’m slightly achey all over.
My body 48 year old body was drained already from the normal travel stress I go through. But then I go and carry a far too heavy of an overstuffed back pack because I don’t want to check anything in. One shoulder strap breaks forcing me to tie it and lug this beast as awkwardly as possible through two major airports destroying my back and right shoulder in the process.
So here I am in bed reliving magic memories of a trip that went by too fast. I had briefly escaped the Arizona heat and rattlesnakes only to meet another one of natures beasts… altitude sickness.
Believe it or not with as miserable as I feel right now, I am excited to go again. I now have the reality of what it will take for my body to do this safely. I am thankful I was with people who didn’t push me, keeping me safe the entire time and carrying extra water for me. I am grateful to be more aware than ever to remind my Superstition Mt. Museum guests traveling from all over the world to be careful out in our desert. Dehydration is as deadly as altitude sickness.
Listen to your body. Know your limitations. When traveling, respect locals who have the experience that can save your life and scoot your ego aside because maybe…just maybe… you don’t know everything even though you think you do to get back home safely.
A friend of mine that usually works up in the main gift shop in the Museum came out to the barn Saturday afternoon and asks “Hey, have you seen the lady with the Donkey? Did she come through here?” Now horses and mules are no strangers to our place, especially the barn, but this particular friend of mine has a great sense of humor and a poker face so this question came loaded. “No, no…?”
I knew it must be good when she told me “Go ahead, I will cover for you, they are in the Museum.” “IN the Museum?” I ask. “Yeah they are inside… it’s a little donkey”
There are people in this world who have such creativity that it lands on another level completely. One of those magic individuals was now alone inside our Museum with her donkey discussing the displays!
I stood there mesmerized, the imaginary spoon going into my mouth because I could not eat this up fast enough. Not one but two new characters had come to life before my eyes! I had to go meet them.
The attention to detail was amazing. Never breaking character I was welcomed into their world as if this was nothing new. I was introduced to Digger the donkey and Wanda. Honestly she has a “W W” something before her name( wild west wanda?) but I lost it because my mind was way too busy absorbing every nuance of the donkey’s clothing and movements. Then as my attention shifted to Wanda my brain went into overload simply giddy with childlike delight. I was sold. I could write down her name and the details later. Someone give this pair the information to come live here at the Museum permanently please! Ok give them the info to volunteer. Something. My boss already had.
A little while later they came out to the barn. It was so obvious that they would fit in as part of that energy that changes our place from ordinary to extraordinary.
With the Museum already having one of the prettiest back grounds the Superstition Mountain, the Stamp Mill and the men who run it, the amazing train and the team that takes care of it, barn dwellers like me, the Elvis chapel, all the people who maintain the grounds or help build the different structures, a blacksmith, the Superstition Mountain Museum still has plenty of room for more good natured, giving volunteers, especially one with a donkey!
I look forward to seeing them again. I promise next time I will write down her complete name!
Have you ever been so tired from talking at work that your face starts to hurt? But you keep going because you still have another hour and a half left. Your head hurts. Your neck hurts. You feel like you have heard yourself say the same thing way too many times?
I volunteer at the Superstition Mtn. Museum. A big part of my role at the museum is helping our guests understand the history behind the Apacheland Movie Ranch memorabilia we have. Apacheland filmed movies, TV shows and commercials from 1960 until it burned down on Valentines Day 2004. The only structures unharmed were the barn and the chapel and they were moved to the museum grounds.
I work in the barn in the General Store on Saturdays and for the last year I have watched the western movie “Charro!” as I sell ice cream and trinkets. Elvis made “Charro!” at Apacheland in 1969. He plays a gritty cowboy. There is no singing in the movie. Elvis does sing the opening song but you don’t see him. It’s a fun movie. I watch it roughly 2.5 times a shift. I have the t-shirt for it. I am in a unique club of people who have it memorized. So far, I am the only member I know of but I’m sure there are more of us out there.
This weekend we had a big event at the museum. Amazing artists came for three days to showcase their work.
The museum also has a lecture series on Thursdays while the weather is fabulous. You get to learn all kinds of cool stuff for free. Hundreds of people show up to these lectures.
I am told this past Thursday they talked about Dia de los Muertos/ Day of the Dead and asked the artists if they wanted to put up a display/altar for this weekend. They did. It is fabulous. It is in the Elvis chapel.
(Side note for any out there not familiar..Dia is celebrated Oct 31, Nov 1 and 2 and this is March 10,11 and 12.)
I said yes to volunteering an extra day, going in on Friday and Saturday. I was told I would be a “wrapper” (…of course I rapped…badly…at my crispy but adorable boss. Apparently, that is the standard response and his blank face at me made me enjoy my stupidity even more.)
I get over to the barn and start sweating profusely when I really realize what they are actually asking me to do. Oh, that hand painted one of a kind pottery people are paying lots of money for? Yeah Stace, wrap it up and bag it while they go pay and make sure you give them the right bags when they come back. Don’t drop, chip, bump…breathe…..!!!!!
The wrapping station is in the barn in an old movie prop Saloon area that is too small for me and the elderly volunteer couple I am assigned with. (actual space…yes we moved the props, no those are not the other volunteers)
The barn is filled with artists showing original works, some worth thousands.
I’m terrified.
My boss comes back about five minutes later…I am needed elsewhere.
Halleluiah thank you baby Jesus! I can’t get out of there fast enough.
“Where am I going?” I ask but honestly don’t care.
As I am being escorted over to the Elvis chapel I am given the edited, ridiculously shortened, a third of a readers digest version of why. The Dia display combined with the Elvis chapel is making some of our guests brains explode (not exactly my bosses wording but…)
I had no idea what this weeks lecture was about. Bad volunteer me I didn’t go. Spank me. All I knew was we had three days of artists coming and it gets busy.
I am also “half Italian and half some form of English Irish mutt mix” is what my dad used to say, who knows. But I’m not Mexican, so no, I can’t give you a museum level run down on Dia de los Muertos on less than a two minute notice with no prep. Sugar skulls are cool. Dia isn’t in March. It’s a celebration. That’s the extent of my Dia knowledge.
But I sure as hell can tell you about Elvis in Charro! and my boss knew it. Plus, he knows my sense of humor and how shy I am….
Throw Stace into the Dia de Elvis Chapel for two days and see what happens.
Instantly its go time.
About two hours in there’s a lull in traffic and I’m alone. A banana falls from the top of the altar sending fruit and candles tumbling onto the floor. My completely inappropriate response to this is to quietly whisper/yell “fuuuuucccckk!!!!”as I am diving to the floor for the fruit and candles.
I have no clue how to put it back and now of course people are coming in. I hastily put the fruit and candle over to the side, positive both my dead grandma and mother just knocked me upside the head from the grave for messing up an altar and cussing at it.
The “Elvis Chapel” is only in the background of the Elvis movie and the top gets blown up. They did not film inside of it for Charro! but I am told Elvis did go inside during breaks.
Combining Elvis with the fact that this chapel didn’t burn down when practically everything else at Apacheland did, well, you will never convince a die-hard Elvis fan that THAT chapel isn’t special. Add hundreds if not thousands of weddings performed to date in the chapel. It’s a special building.
The outside of the chapel photographs beautifully with the Superstition behind it. The chapel is famous in it’s own right but most of our guests have the facts all wrong. Two days of “ no, Elvis didn’t get married here….”, “no…this is not Apacheland this is the museum….” “…you’re right, today isn’t Dia de los Muertos….”
“I don’t know how you live here in the Summer.” Not so much a question but more of a statement directed at my sanity for living somewhere that sustains temperatures in the 100’s for months at a time. I say the exact same thing to people who can live in snow. “I don’t know how you live there in the Winter.”
As a desert dweller, I love to be warm. Hotter the better. Warm to me does not go below 75. At 70 I question a sweater. Down to 65 I now am wearing layers. If we reach 60 this lizard is whining about freezing and searching for her ear muffs. Single digit temps or even wind chills in the negatives? You’re going to have to set me on fire.
The Canadian travelers I meet this time of year at the museum where I volunteer, openly laugh at how bundled I will be in such “pleasant” weather. But I tease these Snow Birds right back. They want to stay “pleasant” all year round? Never getting much past say, oh, 78 degrees eh? That sounds awful to me. I need that blast of sunshine a good 350 days out of the year! Plus, I enjoy a tan. Then we laugh and share stories. Total strangers talking, laughing and connecting… about the weather.
The smell of rain in the desert is wonderful. We need the rain, but I’m good after a day or two. During Monsoon season the storms just roll through. I’m good with that. Weeks or months of grey skies and rain or snow? Nope.
Snow birds “Yeah, we don’t do that either, eh. That’s why we come here for 6 months.”
My husband and I lived in Port Royal, South Carolina for a year. It was there I was officially introduced to humidity. We are not friends. For a lotion slathering, dried out, desert kid, I could barely comprehend the smothering feeling that occurred every time I stepped outside. I spent 90 percent of my time at the beach, not to tan but to get what felt like fresh air blowing around me. SC also has more tiny flying bugs than I prefer but Port Royal is beautiful.
But almost immediately living there I realized I didn’t need lotion anymore. In the desert, for me at least, applying lotion happens all day every day and my skin still wants to be dry. I plan to make you all a video showing how quick a regular piece of bread dries out here in the Summer. It will be our little Science project so when we talk dry heat we mean DRY heat.
Does it make it easier to be in the extreme heat when it’s dry? For me it does. Hot in humidity to me was yucky, bad, smothering, wet, nasty that included flying bugs and having some form of repellant on
Hot in the desert…well, there ain’t much flying, more like circling overhead. Are those heat waves moving across the road…? My shins are burning from the radiant heat coming off the pavement… the SPF 75 should be strong enough… it’s a dry heat.
I say the same about the cold. I’m fine if it’s dry and windy but wet and cold? It literally hurts my feelings.
Everyone has their own personal opinion on what the perfect weather is. That’s what makes the weather one of the oldest universal topics of conversation. No one even expects to agree about it! It’s a badge of honor to brag about the weather conditions you come from and what your preference is.
Where you were born and raised seems to also play a big part. Through my many absurdly non -informed conversations with Snow Birds we have come to the conclusion blood thins or thickens due to heat or cold where you live. Is this medically sound? No idea. Doesn’t matter anyways. It sounds good and is part of playing the Better Weather Game. Why you like what you like has a simple answer “It’s in the blood.”
Snow as high as your roof versus bright and sunny? Rainy versus the ocean sunset? We all play because the Better Weather Game really has no right or wrong. You can’t compare a tornado with ten feet of snow. But both are worth talking about. Or how about a wall of dust so dark it blinds entire freeways? Flash floods? Winds tearing off roofs?
We all have moments where the weather gets extreme to the point of questioning our sanity.
If you play along and are one of those who read my madness on a regular basis, you already know all of my photographs are taken on my iPad mini. Getting a shot of a bee flying means I am up close and personal. I am not using a high-powered zoom from a yard away.
This limitation has allowed me to learn how to relax and be in the moment. To take such intimate pictures I, at the very minimum, must be tolerated in the bees’ space or I will get hurt. Plain and simple. To be honest, I am more afraid of the hummingbirds. Thank goodness they don’t have stingers! I was dive bombed by a seriously angry hummingbird trying to get this shot.
The bees I watch have no time nor patience to be bothered by anything. Flowers are in bloom now. Period. They don’t seem to want to share flowers either. I have witnessed midair buzzes, heated discussions on the matter. Basically, its get your own flower.
And again, if you have been playing along you also know I claim to be nothing more than Desert. I am not the bee expert nor am I trying to be here. I cannot name these particular bees nor am I going to give lectures on them.
I love honey as much as Winnie the Pooh. It’s that simple. Bees are valuable, endangered and get a bad, reputation.
Did you know:
A honey bee dies after it stings.
My purpose has always been to take everyone to the desert with me. To share with anyone who wants to see, hear about or experience the amazing Arizona desert that bumps up against the Superstition Mountain.
This desert is not always brown and dry. We have seasons. When it rains, we bloom. Overnight flowers pop up. The temperatures have been in the upper 60’s to 70’s with mild winds. I giggled when I almost fell over trying to capture a bee flying into a lightly blowing flower.
I must move slowly. I have to relax and not send off crazy energy at this tiny flying creature. Can you imagine Godzilla hovering over your every move shoving a huge black square towards you? Yes, keep that image of me.
Respect is what I believe allows me to stand there unharmed. Time and again the bees have ignored my presence and worked as if nothing else mattered. Taking these types of photos does not happen in one or two shots…I’m there for a while.
I don’t swat at them or move them or the flowers. I am just there. It’s a form of meditation. I follow the flight. The focus. The persistence. The knowing if you just keep searching there is more out there to find, gather and store.
I remember me as a little kid in the desert looking for things to do, having been sent outside to play. Alone and bored, I would notice tiny flowers. Mostly tiny yellow ones but there were also tiny purple ones and tiny white ones.
Carefully picking them with enough stem to put in a vase once I got back home, I would gather these delicate flowers until my hands were full.
I remember proudly walking in to the house with my dirty little fists full of the bounty of wild desert flowers I had collected all those long, hot hours wandering around outside alone.
Finding my Mom in the kitchen, I could hardly wait to give them to her, positive she would just rave at what a wonderful child I was.
My mom turned, looked at my offering and flatly said “Stacy those are weeds.” Then turned back to her dishes.
I remember arguing that if she looked close enough they were flowers, forcing her to see. Being a mom, she grabbed a Dixie cup and humored me along by putting them on the window sill then sending me right back outside.
As I got a little older, one of my main chores was to weed along the fence line. My parents, now convinced I’m the family expert on the matter, figured I should have no problem locating them and removing them.
No dead heading allowed. If I had a pile of snapped off weed tops to put in the wheel barrow at the end of the work day I had hell to pay. I better have a pile of weeds that look a lot like sad undeveloped carrots with visible roots if I had any chance of getting to go out that night.
Now as an adult, I live on 2.5 acres in the amazing desert that bumps right up against the Superstition Mountain. Things have started to bloom all over due to recent rains and our never-ending sunshine. I spend hours outside alone still but enjoy it so much more now that I’m taking pictures to share with everyone.
I may not pick those tiny little colorful buds and put them in Dixie cups anymore but I will argue all day long that I don’t see weeds… I still see flowers.
Had I allowed her to continue on she could have easily walked right over to the main wash all the animals use.
It all goes by so fast.
Now its cherry/strawberry time! The official flavors of February even though it’s still December.
March is green. Beer is green in March. It’s a fact. It’s coming soon. Get ready.
(actual space…yes we moved the props, no those are not the other volunteers)
But I tease these Snow Birds right back. They want to stay “pleasant” all year round? Never getting much past say, oh, 78 degrees eh? That sounds awful to me. I need that blast of sunshine a good 350 days out of the year! Plus, I enjoy a tan. Then we laugh and share stories. Total strangers talking, laughing and connecting… about the weather.
I’m good with that. Weeks or months of grey skies and rain or snow? Nope.
The bees I watch have no time nor patience to be bothered by anything. Flowers are in bloom now. Period. They don’t seem to want to share flowers either. I have witnessed midair buzzes, heated discussions on the matter. Basically, its get your own flower.
adesertviewwithstace 
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