And now for a little guest post from Bosssanders:
I’m not really sure how this whole guest blogging thing works. Do I introduce myself? Are you supposed to google my name and get all the dirt you can on me before I even start? Okay. I’ll wait right here while you do that. You good? Great.
Oh crap. See. I already screwed this up. Do I use real names or fake names? I am NOT calling you “Mama.” Nope *shake head*. I put my foot down.
MissSmartyPants (the author of this blog, who I’m not sure if I can use her name or not…you know, the lady who entrusted me to write a quality blog post? Sucka! Yeh, her…) had asked in a comment to one of my most recent blog posts about both geocaching and cycles. I’ll cover one of those lovely topics…with a story:
*Ahem. Clears throat*
Despite the numerous claims, I do not wish to inflict pain upon my in-laws. Mostly. (Just kidding if you find this, somehow.) Anyhow, last weekend we found an awesome geocache (stick with me, I’ll explain more later). And, me being the kind-hearted, sweet, loving, awesome (get the point yet?) wife of their son that I am, I decided to invite my parents-in-law. I told them about how awesome geocaching was – a sport where you combined hiking and “treasure-hunting” by using a GPS to locate waypoints with cool little treasures hidden. I told them how great this particular trail was – only a small hill that “didn’t make me breathe hard climbing” and no swarms of angry mosquitoes and mostly clear trails. They got excited and we made it a date (this past Wed).
Unfortunately, somewhere in the conversation there was a mix-up. A conversation gap. Hearing of voices.
Bright lights. What THEY heard was: Super easy trail. On a road….a paved road. Little to no walking. At all.
And, then of course, when I told hubs to please relay to his parents that they would need: a walking stick, water, tennis shoes, bug spray, and items to trade in the geocache… he forgot.
I was a little confused when I offered to take our one year old daughter, L, and put her in the baby carrier and her Granny (his mom) told me that she wanted to carry her. I became a little more confused when she refused the perfectly good baby wrap/carrier/sling. I warned her, but nobody listens to me. And, so we began. Without an extra 20 lbs on my front, I could run up the steeper-than-I-remember hills. His mom? Not so much. I could hear her cursing my name and possibly even damning my existence 20 feet away. Father-in-law (FIL) was walking with a make-shift walking stick that bent with every step…and, with every step, it snapped off an inch or so. All of them (except for L and I) were smacking mosquitoes.
All things considered, I think it went fairly well. We hiked, found the nifty treasure, explored remains from an old hotel and old homes that were in the area. We walked over old balconies and over old foundations and where parts of bathhouses still lay. We imagined where bedrooms once were in homes, and found old ice-boxes (actually, we just saw one) and we even found a home where the fireplace and chimney was all that was left standing. On the way back, we watched the sunset over the lake. It was beautiful, it was serene…except for the heavy panting in the back and the sound of sister-in-law’s goofy boy friend sliding down the hill…on his back (in loose gravel).
Nobody died from that trip – yet (despite numerous threats). Although that is still to be determined, because last night, after we got back – hubs and I pulled a combined total of 25 ticks off of ourselves. Okay, okay. Actually he pulled them off of me as I whimpered and squealed like a baby. But, I swear if you ever try to bring it up again, I’ll deny it. I don’t even know what you’re talking about. Shut up.
The moral of the story? There’s not one, really. Except, if you go geocaching, wear walking shoes, bugspray, and comfy clothes to walk in. You might even want to take some water to drink. And, if walking makes you feel like you’re about to die, this might not be for you. Just sayin’. Oh yeah…one more: If your daughter in law happens to be me…you should listen to her and take the damn baby carrier. You will not want to walk 2 miles with a 20 lb squirmy child, and nobody else will want to carry her the rest of the way, seeing as how you volunteered. That daughter-in-law of yours? She’s one smart cookie. Amen.
*Disclaimer: I’m a smart ass and anyone and everyone is subject to my smart-ass-ness. I love them (YOU) all the same. Really. I swear.*
Next week: MissSmartyPants will explain what a cycle is to you all. Be sure and ask her lots of personal/gross/icky questions about it.