Tag Archives: dogs

Snack Bar Duty

1 May

I have found a small, itty, bitty, teeny, weeny positive to my new, limited time on the trails…More of my friends want to run with me now!  I guess I used to be intimidating, but now that I am a slowly recovering peg leg, they flock to me.  Well, not really flock, but maybe two have trickled in.  This is fun.  A new batch of buddies to share the trails with.  Last week we did about 75 minutes of trails.  We laughed, we paused for texts for NCL and phone calls from realtors about escrow and we sweated and enjoyed a gorgeous morning.  We plan to do it again.  I guess this reinforces the notion that I can get it all done in an hour (see previous post), but it also shows me how many more amigas I can share this with if I am doing an hour or so instead of 2.5 hours.  I guess I have more sane than insane friends (but, J and K, you are the dearest insane friends ever!!!).

I worked the snack bar this evening for Princelightningbolt’s track meet.  Some brilliant filmmaker needs to do a documentary on high school sports’ snack bars.  Seriously.  What are the differences in menu, volunteers and overall success for various sports.  Why?  I was the chef for pasta bowls, quesadillas and anything involving chili and cheese.  While this sounds disgusting under normal circumstances, when you have spent 5-7 hours at a track meet, outside in heat and cold and God knows what, this food sounds and tastes delicious.  And if you can volunteer with a crew of cool people, this can be fun and hilarious…what is not to laugh at with rubber gloves, quesadilla makers (yep, these trump my George Foreman Grill), hot dog machines and green container parmesan cheese?  Can you make a meal of that?  Oh, ya, canned chicken, too.

For chili nachos and chili dogs we offer two kinds of cheese to chose from…shredded or smooth nacho cheese. When the lines were long and the people in line impatient, we somehow resorted to shouting, “Does he want shredded or liquid cheese on his nachos?’  Liquid cheese?  Nasty.  Who would choose that option?  Lots of people, apparently.  I gobbed spoonfuls of nacho cheese onto canned chili nachos, hot dogs and who knows what over the course of a few hours.  I think Michelle Obama may need to have a talk with these folks.

Mountains

19 Feb

We escaped from behind the Orange Curtain this weekend for some fresh mountain air.  Das Boot made this an interesting escapade, but my flabby ass was happy to get off the couch and out into the world.  Our travel squadron includes our family and Mrfireman’s brood (my brother’s family).  The sum total includes three teenagers, four dogs, three quasi-adults (combined, Mrfireman and I probably only equal one adult), one huge truck, one minivan, a ton of food, coolers and cameras, and one Balalaika…Have you heard of this instrument?  It is a Russian stringed instrument our nephew plays…and takes with him on vacation.  Did you catch the part about four dogs?  I don’t even need to extrapolate because you get the idea.

Yosemite is breathtaking any time if year.  In the winter it can be serene, quiet and cold.  This winter it is warm and there is hardly any snow.  While we packed enough chains, snow gear, boots, mittens and long underwear for our squadron and then some, we needed none of it over the four days in the mountains.  Weird, right?

Add to this, Das Boot and Mrfireman’s knee brace.  I guess injury is running in the family because he has a torn meniscus.  What a ridiculous twosome for hiking in one of the most beautiful places in the world.  Luckily, he is a photographer and had some distraction with his gear.  Including leaving his tripod behind twice…in two different spots.  Mrfireman’s sweet wife had to hike back to fetch it because he was in no shape to repeat the hike and no one was going to ask Peg Leg.  Sirskatesalot tried to follow the tripod retrieval hike, but was too late after lacing up his hiking boots and we all ended up missing each other.  Remember, we have four dogs between our families?  Fun stuff.

In the name of moutain people, I wore jeans, a flannel and a beanie yesterday.  I was cozy and comfortable at Yosemite Falls and El Capitan.  Mrfireman took tons of pictures.  Then, while bowling last night with real mountain people, Mrfireman said I was taking the mountain thing too far with my lumberjack look.  Mrfireman’s sweet wife thinks this is the most funny thing she has ever heard and is pointing and laughing at me…not for my terrible bowling skills, but because I look like a lumberjack.  Mrfireman’s wife is not so sweet after all.

Ahem.  Holy cow.  Add Das Boot to the flannel, jeans and beanie…and my crazy, curly hair…and you have Peg Leg Lumberjack.  Needless to say, Peg Leg Lumberjack lost the bowling game, Mrfireman and his sweet wife tied.  Balalaikanephew tried to hurl himself down the bowling lane with his ball, Sirskatesalot slipped with his sick bowling style and fell flat on his back.  The real mountain people at the 10 lane bowling alley thought we were hysterical and I must admit we are a motley crew.  I hope we have this much fun over spring break without Das Boot.

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Das Boot and Barf

11 Feb

I have found another benefit of having Das Boot.  Sirbarksalot was barfing last night.  Twice.  Sooo gross.  If you have experienced a large dog barfing in the middle of the night, you know this includes disgusting noises, shouts, a leap from the bed, lights flicked on, slider to outside open, dog bed changed, barf cleaned up (gross, gross, gross).  So, when this all transpired last night, I was exempt from any jumping, leaps from the bed, opening the slider, changing dog bed and cleaning up barf.  Remember, I am a Peg Leg.

When all the chaos started, Sirskatesalot took the lead and I rolled over to face the opposite direction with Das Boot.  Das boot and I got cozy and settled while Sirbarksalot heaved, Sirskatesalot leapt from the bed, ripped the crate door open and threw Sirbarksalot outside.  I offered a  feeble, “Can I help you?”  But Sirskatesalot knows I am a Peg Leg and cut me some slack.  He took the bed outside, cleaned the crate, re-bedded the crate and put the pup back to bed.  I cuddled with my pillows.   Ah, so nice to be a Peg Leg at times like this. People expect so little of me.

And then, another disgusting round of barf noises from the crate.  “Sirskatesalot, Sirskatesalooooottttt! ” I scream while he is out in the kitchen cleaning up.  Damn.  Am I really going to have to get Das Boot and I out of bed?  Aha, I spot my phone on the nightstand.  I text, “Bring paper towels!”  I hear Sirskatesalot immediately running down the hall.  Ah, now I can go back to sleep.  He bursts through the bedroom door,”Is he throwing up again?”  I just roll over and groan.  I’m tired.  Das Boot has had to roll over, pull on the covers and resettle already three or four times.

But I am grateful to Das Boot that Sirskatesalot never even asked me to get out of bed.  I am going to keep the hated Das Boot by my bed at all times so that when a kid or dog is barfing at night, I can velcro it on and skip all barf clean up duties.  Das Boot sucks, but barf clean up is so much worse.

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Poop Patrol

5 Feb

Sirskatesalot and I walked the pooches yesterday.  A very, very leisurely 20 minute stroll with me limping behind.  It was nice to get outside and move, however slowly.  Then Sirbarksalot (little black lab) went to the bathroom.  No biggie, normal walk.  I take poop bag off leash, clean up and off we go…galump, galump.  Then Sirbiggestgoldenontheplanet has to poop.  Ok, cool.  Another nice break from galumping along.  But Sirskatesalot has Sirbiggestgoldenontheplanet and no poop bag.  Duh.

“You don’t have a bag?”  Sirskatesalot answers, “No, I didn’t notice we only had one.”  Great. What to do now?  I have one, shit filled poop bag and another gigantic, steaming turd on a neighbor’s lawn.  Sirskatesalot is nothing if not resourceful. Remember, he is a skateboarder.  He asks for Sirbarksalot’s poop filled bag and opens it, figures a way to scoop up shit from Sirbiggestgoldenontheplanet and makes it all fit! I must say, I am impressed.  He didn’t use shoe goo or a skateboard and he didn’t even get any on his hand.

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