We’re in San Diego spending Thanksgiving with Celine. We’re as sick as mildly sick dogs. I’m just now getting my voice back and Andy is looking a little less bedraggled than this morning even.

We spent last week in Green Bay visiting Andy’s parents. I’m sure I could tease some stories out of the visit but I’ll just leave it alone. Family was there, it snowed, the end.

We made the flight reservation to Green Bay while we were in Norman OK and then changed minds and drove from Norman to back Vegas. This meant finagling of tickets, times and prices for our trip to Green Bay. The only way we could get there at the same time, was to accept an overnight layover in Chicago both ways. On the way to Green Bay it was fun hanging out on the floor at the gate under our sleeping bag listening to podcasts and eating granola bars. On the way back with achy heads, stuffy noses and chest racking coughs the sparkle wasn’t quite as bright. But surprisingly, not as bad as it could have been.

We spent a day recuperating and drove in the rain and fog to San Diego to spend the holiday with Kevin, his parents and my mom. He made the turkey and we brought the rest. It was a nice day that ended with Sudafed, Nyquil and a ridiculously early bedtime.

Now we’re wrapped up like orange, puffy larva in our new MontBell stretchy sleeping bags. Sleeping bags that are so awesome and amazing that I could rave about them in their own entry. Although I won’t….yet.

Tonight I wanted to sleep outside in the bivy but am restraining myself for two reasons. One: my mom said that I couldn’t because I’m sick and I just don’t feel like the ensuing argument is a hill I want to die on right now. And two: she threw a turkey carcass out the front door “for the neighborhood animals”. I really didn’t like the idea of sleeping next to a turkey carcass or the marauding neighborhood animals.

In ten minutes, more snuggling, hot tea and watching movies. My feet are getting restless I haven’t walked anywhere substantial in what seems like weeks.

We hiked fifteen somewhat flat although rocky miles at Red Rock Canyon yesterday. I could have used another day of recuperation, but I don’t think I was any worse for it. Although the last three miles, thankfully the flattest and easiest, my legs just didn’t want to go anymore.

I was rewarded for my efforts with a cold Dr. Pepper at the conservatory and then a restorative ride to the grocery store. I told Andy that he would be getting the groceries since there was no way my legs were getting out of the car. But, after the ten minutes of sitting and the healing powers of high fructose corn syrup Andy and I got the groceries together and went home to watch a movie and then go to bed at a ridiculously early hour.

Right now Andy is out watching a football game at PT’s pub and eating breakfast while I opted to hang out here in the quiet of Amanda’s new house and the puffiness of our new, somewhat silly, aqua La-z-boy recliner that a guy delivered to us yesterday. It was listed on Craigslist for $30. The description was good, but I thought the color didn’t sound great (it isn’t). I guess he really wanted it gone because he said he would drop it off for free in twenty minutes. How could I say no? Besides being slightly hideous, it’s one of the most comfortable chairs I’ve ever sat on.

Andy’s new sleeping bag should be here this week and we’re hoping to do our first overnight experiment with some of the new gear.

It feels like someone drove a six inch prison shiv into both of my quadriceps. Or, maybe it feels like yesterday the baby hikers got their asses kicked by some big bad rocks. The prison shiv sounds so much more spicy in writing. We woke up at eight this morning and didn’t even try to sit up for at least three hours. Actually, that might just be normal behavior for us, but this time it was because of pain, not just because we felt like laying around. Just standing up was (and is) a monumental event.

Yesterday, my legs on the last (and easiest) mile of what seemed like a right angle into the sky, pretty much gave out. I wiped out once on loose gravel but only scraped up my leg and felt foolish. I shouldn’t have been running while tired and weakened but, the the trail was steep and the sun was going down. We had to get the trusty Element five miles down Rocky Gap road. Five miles in forty minutes of navigating boulders, winding turns and brutal drops. It was hard enough during daylight hours. The only other injury of the day was also by me and was more funny than painful. I was placing my feet, bracing myself to make a big push to propel me over a large overhang. I was concentrating so hard, I flung myself up and headbutted a bulbous clump of sandstone. Clonk.

Also today we picked up a very light FedEx box filled with ultra light gear. Andy put on his marino wool long johns and we played in our double bivy sack like we we’re back in fourth grade and had an awesome refrigerator fort. Tomorrow I feel like we’ll be ready for distance but on something very, very flat.

Before I start my rant, please take a moment to think about this important meme and post your answer in the comments section.

If you saw me in the back of a police car, what would you think I got arrested for?

Written yesterday:

We’re four hours outside of Vegas, back on the road after “Cratergate 2008″. Meteor Crater in Flagstaff Arizona is a complete and total rip off. It’s rampant with white haired control freaks, out of date and repetitive museum information and locked doors and signs telling you that the only way to walk the crater is with a guided tour that only goes half a mile. The price is $15 admission for adults. None of this info is listed on their website.

Andy went there as a child and was able to walk around it and assumed it would be the same. We left a few minutes after we entered, when we found out we couldn’t hike around it. If they would have posted it somewhere we wouldn’t have bothered. We brought a liter of water for god’s sake. We were so annoyed that I brought up, and Andy agreed that we should ask for our money back.

I don’t know if you guys understand the magnitude of that last statement. Andy does not like to cause a fuss. For him to walk down to the entrance and politely say that we had just come in and the only reason we had was to walk around the crater, was a sign to me that he was really ticked off. The seventy year old “security” lady with grandma hair, in no uncertain terms said, “No, we can’t give you your money back, you’ve already seen the crater”.

Yes, it was true. We had seen the crater and thirty dollars was a totally reasonable price to pay to see a huge hole in the ground.

Andy said “okay”, turned around and while walking down the steps to our car yelled, “Bad Crater. Mess you up!” (a la Seinfeld) Which to me, was totally worth the thirty dollar expense.

Now, on to today:

Too tired to type. Hiking/climbing to the top of this was very, very hard.

We’re going (coming?) back to Vegas.

In a perfect synchronicity of events, at the same time we decided that it’s the right time to go back to the land of sports betting and free buffets, our friend Amanda is closing on her new house and needs some fine upstanding hobos like us as roommates. The gambling “thing” in Oklahoma still could have value, but we decided we would have more potential in Vegas as far as money, hiking that isn’t flat and hockey for Andy. The weather in the winter isn’t bad, and somehow, it just feels like the right thing to do, right now. I hope that the last sentence isn’t some indication that Vegas somehow has a hold over me like an abused woman going back to her tormentor. “Vegas didn’t mean it. It just can’t control itself sometimes. It’s not that bad. It’s really nice to me when we’re alone.”

I feel like I want to write something amazing, funny, touching….something. But, I’m having a little bit of writers block. Usually this happens when, well, why does this happen exactly? Am I uncomfortable with something? I’m having trouble coming up with how to form words into meaningful sentences. I know we’ve just started planning this momentous hike, but it feels like it’s becoming a real thing, and I think…I’m uncomfortable. It’s a feeling of being established and undisturbed and leaving that to jump off a cliff (hopefully not literally) into the unknown. I’m not a stranger to this feeling. Every time that I’ve trusted it there have been amazing results

The last time I really felt like this was when I (re)met Andy for the first time after months of emailing and phone calls. I remember sitting at my computer desk the night before he showed up thinking that I knew deep in my heart that tonight was the last night of my life as I knew it. In a good way. Even so, there were things I had to give up. All of them worth it and none I can think of that didn’t make me a happier, calmer, better soul. This trip feels the same somehow. I believe that the unforeseen benefits will far outweigh the hardships, but jumping off into the unknown, even if it’s an amazing adventure, is a scary thing.

I don’t want to make this all ominous and weird, because we’re having a pretty fun time planning things. I’m planning the food portion. My sample box of dehydrated vegetables and beans came yesterday and I’ve been experimenting with different creations. When we get to Vegas and I have a full kitchen again there’s no limit to what my culinary mad scientist brain can come up with. Andy has been meticulously researching proper gear and is doing an amazing job. Right now he’s “pulling the trigger” on a long sleeved merino wool shirt, possum down (we’re hoping they shear them like a lama and not club them like a baby seal) gloves and his ultra light backpack. As of tonight we’ll have our sleeping system (tarp, bivy sack and sleeping bags) and packs ordered. We both recieved our cold weather jackets and I got a pair of ultra light trail shoes that I’m very excited about trying out.

The Value Place room that we’ve called home for the past three weeks looks like a clothes bomb exploded in it. I should be trying to get our stuff wrangled together. Instead I’m searching craigslist for food dehydrators and getting sucked into the never ending vortex of the internet. Andy will be done with the ordering in a few minutes and I’m going to take him out for a night out on the town at Furr’s home cooked buffet. I didn’t make the connection earlier but, I think cooks at Furr’s may have first hand knowledge of how to prepare a clubbed possum.

We should be back in Vegas by Friday at the earliest but we might take a longer route and camp a few days.

Three days and a little under 60 miles of hiking to the cadence of peanut butter jelly time. We are slightly nauseous but a feeling like rockstars. We learned alot about endurance, found that our feet are much tougher than we gave them credit for and, when you burn about 6000 calories in three days, it is necessary to eat lots and lots of food. Also, even though the white toe taping made me feel all tough, really, it was more of a hindrance and blister promoter than anything. My naked toes came through blister free. Andy’s feet were a little dicey but the blisters are toughening up and I think very soon, he will have feet of steel.

After walking 24 miles to Bethany OK Monday night, our training was “compromised” by Trina and her husband Steve who made us vegetarian Indian curry and provided a luxurious private bedroom with our own bathroom. We tried to be engaging guests but l feel like maybe we ate like ravenous wolves and zoned out. I was in bed by 9 while Andy hung out with our hosts a little while longer.

While in bed, I got a disturbing call from Andy’s sister that hadn’t been able to reach us for the prior three hours. She said that Andy’s mom had a heart attack.

It was a scary few minutes until we got all the information. She was feeling chest pains and called her doctor, who told her to go directly to the emergency room. Talking about it later, we wondered what she thought her doctor might say? “Oh JoAnn, it’s probably nothing, just take a few aspirin and elevate your feet.” She went almost immediately into surgery to put a shunt in her heart to clear a 90% blockage. I’m writing this two days later. She’s home from the hospital and feeling better already. We offered, along with his sisters, to get on a plane that night, but were all told not to. We all have plane tickets to visit at the end of the month that were booked already. They were adamant that we should wait.

Tuesday we made sure our cell phones were charged and on to be able to get calls from family and walked the 10 miles to Oklahoma City to see the memorial. On the way there, I came across such a spectacular photo op, I would have paid money to have my camera.

Early in the day on the corner of a somewhat busy intersection, scores of Obama supporters were dancing, cheering and flashing Obama ‘08 signs at the cars passing by and waiting at the stop light. People in the cars honked and waved. They were young, excited, racially mixed and having a hell of a fun time. Standing quietly next to the bright yellow walk/don’t walk sign was a man in his mid fifties to early sixties. He was wearing tan pleated docker pants and a blue oxford shirt covering a more than slight paunch. He had snow white hair and gold rimmed glasses. He was standing close to the Obama supports but obviously separate. His red, white and blue sign read “McCain/Palin”. It was actually somewhat sweet.

Wednesday we started our trek back at eight in the morning walking directly into 19 mile an hour wind for most of the day. The weather reports predicted rain and we saw and felt storms at our back almost the whole way home. The grey, rolling clouds caught up with us about four miles away from “home”. We got out of the sudden downpour by stopping for dinner, and watched out the plate glass window as the wind blew the rain horizontally and the sky went a darker shade of grey. We thought about calling someone for a ride home, but after putting in so much time it seemed like there was no way we weren’t going to finish.

The rain mostly let up and we decided to go for it, thinking we had only four miles to go. Unfortunately, because of walking into the strong winds all day, it ended up being more like seven. Three miles difference is considerable with black thunder clouds overhead, lightning and in some places ankle deep water. Dinner gave us some inspiration and physical strength and we got back on the service road.

Finally we saw the red glowing $189.00 a week Value Place sign of home. Just as it came into focus, less than a mile away, it started to hail slightly less than golf ball sized chunks of ice. We sprinted a quarter mile to a overpass and sat underneath watching cars and truck dangerously sliding around on the freeway and slowing to try to avoid the cars on the shoulder.

When there was a break in the hail, we decided to go for it again, this time not caring about jumping in ankle deep water or taking care not to get too muddy. It was nice to be inside and take a hot shower but surprisingly, I wasn’t as uncomfortable as I thought I would be. I’m already scheming a trip for next week.

*political post script:

I was considering writing an entire boring, long winded entry that no one will read about my political views. But that sounds dreadful. Instead, I decided to write the above boring, long winded entry about hiking. If you’re interested, just know that my beliefs can be sumed up in the best half hour episode of South Park: Giant Douche (with applicator) vs. Turd Sandwich (with a pickle). If you want to watch the whole thing, and you should, when the clip is over it will ask if you want to watch the whole episode. Click the link and then click on the episode, season 8 episode 8 (eighth square from the left). It’s a Puffy, or Diddy or P. Diddy (I’m not sure what he was calling himself in 2004) character face with sunglasses on.

Things are serious now. We have a PCT gear spreadsheet.

From all the things we’ve been reading, it seems like one of the biggest things you can do to help your success in any long distance hike is to manage your pack weight. This means ultra light gear. On the spread sheet, Andy has our base pack weight at a little less than 10 lbs. each and the cost off all the new gear at a great reduction, thanks to internet competition.

We’ve been walking with and without packs 8 to 15 miles most days and discovering the comfort of “vitamin i”.

Tomorrow, we’re hiking to Oklahoma City from where we are in Norman. It’s about 22 miles. We’re staying with a couchsurfer. I was thinking that the day after, we would hike from Trina and her husband’s house to the Oklahoma City National Memorial. In a perfect training scenario, we’d walk the 22 miles back the day after that, but I somehow think it might not happen.

This next paragraph is about granola. Just warning you, in case you want to skip it. I was looking for a granola recipe that I could make and bring hiking since oats don’t agree with me or Andy. I did some quinoa flake granola experimentation with Ana the expert granola maker. Results: quinoa granola…amazing! Granola is extremely easy to make and insanely good. And now you know, if your oat intolerant, substitute quinoa flakes. And, if you are oat tolerant, make yourself some granola. You’ll never go back to store bought again.

15 miles,
originally uploaded by cindigodotcom.

Our first serious days of training. We loaded our twenty pound packs (Andy says more like 35), hiked 15 miles to Thunderbird State Park, camped the night and hiked the 15 miles back. We’re a little sore right now. The tortured feet pic is much more exaggerated than it looks. After removing the tape and a hot shower I only have a slight blister on my heel and Andy a small one on his second toe.

We got to our camp site with forty-five minutes of daylight left to find that there was no running water. We both had finished the water from our hydration pouches, didn’t have the time or energy to walk anywhere to get water before dark and only brought dehydrated food that required water to rehydrate and cook. The only solution, water from Lake Thunderbird.

Andy went down to the lake to boil the pathogens out of the coffee colored water while I foraged for fire wood. I was tired enough to not even care that I was eating/drinking crunchy, rust colored water.

We checked the weather report when we got back and the internet told us that the temperature got down to thirty four degrees. It was uncomfortable, but not unbearable. We were pretty proud of ourselves until we realized that I was reading the wrong day and it actually only got down to forty two degrees. Now, we’re rethinking the ratings on our sleeping bags and our toughness in general.

Now, we will watch some mindless television, eat a few handfuls of Aleve and sleep the sleep of the exhausted.

We are still alive and still in Oklahoma. “Project X” ended up well for the week with Andy not getting kicked out of any casinos, refining his strategies and ending up in the black for the week.

I went to Talihina for the weekend with a bunch of couchsurfers to “see the fall colors” and despite my reservations (since I’m not big on looking at leaves from behind a car window) I had great amounts of fun, made a few new friends and got to know my old ones better.

For bigger news last, we made an executive decision that might entail us skipping baseball season for next year. (insert dramatic music here)

We’ve been talking about hiking The Pacific Crest Trail for the past year or so, and I think we’re going to try and do it this coming April. I’m not saying for sure, but the more people we tell and the more we talk about it, the more concrete it gets.

The PCT is a tough hike that takes four and a half months from Mexico to Canada through California. The idea started becoming more of a real goal when we went for what we thought was going to be a four or five mile hike in Lake Thunderbird State Park. The wooden trail maps hadn’t been updated since the new trails were completed and we ended up hiking 17 miles by accident. On that hike we started talking, both somewhat dreading, for our own reasons going back to Vegas for baseball season. As we walked, we both realized, that we really don’t have to. We have low overhead, no kids and barring any sort of injury to Andy’s golden brain, have the ability to make money when we get back.

Although, things are far from set in stone, I thought if I put it out there, it would cement the plan that much more.

I haven’t been updating much because we’ve been hiking all over the place. Granted, flat Oklahoma isn’t the best place to train, but it’s a start. Tomorrow, we’re loading up our packs and hiking fifteen miles to Lake Thunderbird, camping for the night and then hiking the trails on Wednesday.

Is it bad that I think that more than a little of my motivation to do this has spawned from watching bad 80’s gymnastics movies? I was always jealous of the gymnasts (and boxers) that would tape up their hands and feet. I wanted to do something so tough that it would involve white tape and a bag of ice.

While I was taping my toes this morning before we went on a ten mile trek to buy Andy new trail running shoes, I distinctly heard Eye of the Tiger playing just for me in my head.

Here’s some links to blogs if your interested enough to read more about what hiking the PCT is like or, more about ultra light hiking:

Andrew Skurka
Ryan Jordan
Henry Shires
Jason “Space Cowboy” Bobier (they didn’t make it the whole way because his wife had a bone spur)

We made it to Oklahoma. It’s nice here. Norman OK is a college town and not what you would think of Oklahoma at all (think Austin compared to the whole of Texas). We’re staying at a weekly hotel that embarrassingly, we are in love with. It’s brand new, $200 a week and perfect. I went grocery shopping today and our plain studio is feeling more homey than I’ve felt in a long while. It’s really sparse and utilitarian but in a good way. Does that sound weird?

We’re a little off the highway butted up against trees, fields and houses on large, country plots of land. It’s close to railroad tracks. At night we can hear the muted sound of freight train whistles. It’s been a while since we could routinely smell cut grass and walk through neighborhoods with trees. We went for a walk today down the railroad tracks, through a woodsy subdivision and back by a horse pasture. I’m going to buy some carrots to feed to them on our next walk. This place is like the anti Vegas. I don’t think either of us realized just how long we’ve gone without having a place of our own.

Andy has been programming and testing “Project X” and it’s looking really good. Even if it turns out a bust, it will be nice to hang out here for a while to camp and hike. I bought a new backpack (because my current one sucks) and sleeping bag (because it blew out of the roof top carrier) at an REI in Albuqurque. I’m antsy to try it out. I’m almost done reading Call of the Wild by Jack London (you can download it for free, along with many other books, at The Gutenberg Project. It’s about a sled dog during the Alaskian gold rush. When I put on that backpack in the REI I felt like one of those dogs being put into a sliegh harness. I almost couldn’t contain myself from bursting out the front door and running down a trail head.

We went into Norman proper yesterday to eat dinner and walk around the campus and surrounding area of Oklahoma University. We walked by a pizza place with a glass window that allowed passer bys to see into the kitchen and watch the food being made. As we passed by I saw a guy making what was obviously a boob out of pizza dough. He was tweaking the “nipple” and I could see that he was telling his friend to look. Just at that moment, he turned his head and caught my eye. We both knew he had been caught being naughty. He smiled sheepishly as I laughingly gave him a thumbs up. The interaction made me giggle all night.

On a completely unrelated note: these are the two best resources I’ve found to explain what happened to the economy in regards to the housing bubble burst and the bail out. It explains things clearly, interestingly and with humor. If you want to listen, click on the link, scroll down and then click on “full episode” on the left of the page.

The Giant Pool of Money
Another Frightening Show About the Economy

I’m lying in a white puffy bed, courtesy (well, not really a courtesy, we paid for it) of the Flagstaff Arizona La Quinta Inn. We abandoned our usual hobo tendencies of sleeping in a vehicle, tent or on stranger’s floor or futon and decided to spring for the lap of La Quinta luxury. Monday night football is on, and Andy is seriously pouring over his laptop while simultaneously watching the game. We’re on our way to Oklahoma City and possibly Tulsa for Project (the last part is secret but don’t worry it’s legal) forthwith referred to as “Project X”. Sounds mysterious right?

We left San Diego on Saturday to get back to Vegas with just enough daylight to pull everything out of the Honda, a few more things out of the RV, and successfully organize our lives into the big gray storage clam on top of the Element. Only a few items needed to be stowed in the actual car. We’re not sure how long we’ll be traveling, but the car is packed for six months.

Sunday was the playoffs of Andy’s hockey team, The Army of Darkness. He’s been playing with them for four years. They almost always make it to the playoffs, and have never won it all. Most of the wives and girlfriends sitting on the bench with me felt pretty much the same about it. They really wanted their men to win, but if they did, there was a three hour gap between games, and no one really wanted to hang out it a manly, smelly hockey rink for that long.

They didn’t win, but put forth a valiant effort.

Before I tell you the next part of the story, I have to give you a little history about my sleep patterns. Once in a while, I will sit up in the middle of the night and say something that makes no sense but am fully committed to. Here’s a classic example that we still laugh about:

Cindigo (sits up in bed): Fish Refuge.
Andy: What?
Cindigo: Fish. Refuge.
Andy: I don’t understand. What are you trying to say?
Cindigo (sighs heavily and says in a tone that implies that Andy is dumb…) Fish! Refuge!
Andy: Are you sleeping?
Cindigo: No.
Andy: Really?
Cindigo (very long pause while realizing I had been sleeping): Maybe.

So keep this background in mind when I tell you that while sleeping in the RV in the middle of the night, I sat straight up in bed and said, “there’s a cat in the bed”. Andy, knowing my history woke up and with a placating humorous tone in his voice said, “Really? There’s a cat in the bed.” I replied, “Yes, there’s a cat in the bed. Look!”. He woke fully up and saw, that indeed, there was a strange cat in our bed.

He was tame but a little skittish. When we were trying to process this middle of the night information, he freaked out a little and ran to the front of the RV. Andy opened the doors and thought he left. We went back to bed. Apparently later in the night, he was back in our bed trying to get out of the window. I slept through it, possibly in part due to the vodka and sodas I had at the bar celebrating the end of the hockey season with Andy and the team. Andy opened the back window and he scampered out for good.

We we’re glad on so many levels that a cat didn’t get trapped in our RV for six months. Can you even imagine coming back to the carnage? Dead cat? Poop and pee of former cat? The sadness of a cat trapped in our RV starving to death.

Tomorrow, we’re going for a hike in the morning and then driving five or so hours closer to our destination.

Space Rangers,
originally uploaded by cindigodotcom.

I’m typing to you from Helen’s blue, never to become retro, couch in LA. She left in a flurry of lateness this morning and gave instructions that included a zip lock bag of keys being thrown over a wall. I’m driving to San Diego in a few minutes where I will meet up with Andy to spend the next four or five days running around to various fun things like the beach and the zoo.

But, what I want to tell you about most is Disneyland. It turned out to be a really fun fourteen hour day. Yes, you heard it. We spent fourteen hours at Disney Land. We had planned on going later in the day but I bought tickets for half price on ebay and the instructions were clear that they were to be picked up between 8 and 8:30 in the morning. We were meeting Helen at 4 and she laid down the law that we would be staying for the fireworks at 9:30. By the time we were pretty warn out at 2, it was almost time for our chaperon to arrive.

Helen: Disney Nazi or Best Tour Guide EVER? Survey says….she’s the best! Although the fireworks ended up being canceled because of high winds.

The picture above was not staged. It didn’t feel like we were that serious about helping Buzz Lightyear out. As for my low score. I’m pretty sure my gun was half broken. No. Seriously. It was. After the ride, there are tv’s where you can send your picture to your email for free.

We ate breakfast, felt pretty good and headed into the park just as it was opening. The first ride, Soarin’ Over California was pretty cool. It lifted you up in chair and had a wrap around movie screen. It looked and felt like you were flying over major California attractions complete with smells of orange groves and pine trees. Very mellow and a great start to the day.

Before I go on, let me tell you that I do not like rides that make me feel like my life is in peril. Even the feris wheel is not of very much interest to me. I’ll go if the people I’m with want to, but it’s not something I would choose to do if I were alone. But today was special and because of that, I was considering on going on some rides that I wouldn’t normally do. Andy loves them, and really, who wants to be the guy waiting at the exit when everyone else is seeming to have so much fun.

The second ride was called Tower of Terror. You might think with a name like that I would have second thoughts, but, the first ride was so mellow and all the other rides seemed to be really kid themed, I thought it would just be like a haunted house tour in slow moving cars on a winding track. I walked in feeling pretty calm until we went into the decaying hotel’s “elevator” and a roll bar was locked into place over my shoulders. I grabbed Andy’s hand and said, “they’re going to drop us”. He was calmly trying to explain why they wouldn’t, that the floor was right there and there was a ceiling. I started breathing hard and repeated, “they’re going to drop us”. Ten seconds later the ride shot up to a ridiculous height and….dropped us. Then for what seemed like an eternity repeated the process of shooting up and dropping down while in between opening the elevator doors to show some gruesome hotel horror. I never saw any of this since my head was buried in Andy shoulder while I was screaming for my eternal soul non stop.

When the ride did come to a stop I was crying inconsolable tears. Yes people, I’m 37 years old and I was crying like a 2 year old. I couldn’t breath, I was hyperventilating and feeling as close to a panic attack as I have ever been. To add insult to injury, the was a cute, blonde, pony tailed, bubbly seven-ish year old girl sitting behind us. When the ride was over she got up, started clapping and jumping, chanting, “Can we go again?! Can we go again?!”

So embarassing.

We got out into the light and sat on a bench while Andy consoled me. The problem with this kind of crying is, when I tap into it, it’s very hard to get back into control. It only happens once in a while and to now has usually only been triggered by movies. (*upcomming movie spoiler alerts) Even though Castaway was not that great of a movie, I started quietly sobbing the minute he was inspecting his band aid in the plane bathroom and was sucked out into the ocean the whole time until he was rescued. During Wall-E, most of the time while tooling around on the planet alone or when loses his girl bot I’m a mess of silent movie theater tears. Into the Wild, the end death scene, I don’t think I could get out of the red, puffy chair for half an hour.

Any armature (professional?) psychiatrists out there? Sensing a theme?

And now, Disneyland, the happiest place on earth. I’m sitting on a bench in front of the Monsters Inc. ride, throat hurting, body aching, feeling foolish and inconsolable all at the same time. Then, my sensitive, accurate husband Andy folds his arms around me and says “I’m sorry you didn’t feel protected as a child”. All the tears that I felt I had nearly gotten under control, broke forth again and I collapsed into Andy’s arms a lumpy, soggy, vulnerable, mess.

After I had worked it out, the next ride we went on was The Muppets 3D Adventure. It was actually good. Both of us feel that we received much of our comedic training/timing from those lovable puppets growing up. The rest of the day gradually got better and by noon with a bowl of soup and California sunshine we were both having a great time.

Helen showed up a 4:30 and fed us the largest piece of chocolate cake I’ve ever seen and took us to some of her favorite rides. Near the end of the day, not wanting to be crippled by an amusement park ride, I agreed to go on the Indiana Jones Adventure Ride. With open eyes, deep breathing and a strong desire not to be emotionally crippled, I did it. Not bad. Not a fan yet, but baby steps are good. Who knows, maybe next time, Space Mountain.

I made a grave mistake yesterday.

First, let me tell you that I’m in San Diego again. Andy had four days of football watching, hockey (watching and playing), mini bowling, shooting pool and just general guys hanging out and being guys planned. And although that sounds like four ideal, perfect fun filled days, I thought I would be unselfish and let him partake and enjoy the testosterone all by his manly self. I opted to spend a few days in San Diego with Nova Bella and Celine talking about ponies, having pillow fights, painting our nails and talking about boys.

The grave mistake I made yesterday was drinking a Red Bull at two o’clock in the afternoon. I love Red Bull, and in return, Red Bull hates me. One small can makes me positively euphoric for an hour or so, then, as always, I get a stomach ache and don’t sleep until four in the morning. I drink a can every four months or so, just to “make sure”. Yesterday was no different.

This morning I feel surly, moody, “kicky” and unsatisfied. Screw you Red Bull. You are a mean, mean beverage and I am very mad at your fruity, sweet, radio active yellow siren song. Why can’t you be more like Coke (ca cola) or a satisfying cup of tea? You are cruel and heartless and I am bitter at a world that would allow your hold over me…bitter at a Darwinian world that could breed such injustice.

I am weak and cannot handle your power.

I’m sitting in a metal chair waiting for Andy’s hockey game to begin. It smells like feet in here. Last week Andy got into a fight (not his fault) and the guy who started it ended up bleeding all over the rink (not from Andy).

So much random stuff has happened, I’m having trouble condensing it all. Do I write about moving out of our Las Vegas house? Not that interesting. I would just write “we moved out of our Las Vegas house” and that would about cover it.

We’re back in the RV, kind of. Andy flew to a secret, undisclosed location (that I think I probably already disclosed in previous entries) to research some gambling thing that was potentially profitable. Instead of hanging out in the RV alone, I decided to go to San Diego and help my mom move into her new house. I was there four days and we bought and assembled stuff from Ikea, got stuff from Craigslist and emptied every single box of possessions and put them mostly in their right places. It looks like she’s been living there for at least six months.

But really, the savior of the day was Nova Bella. The incompetent property management company managed to not keep the electricity turned on the few days between the old tenants and my mom. When Helene called the electric company, they said it would be four days before they could come out. When Ms. DeLovely heard that she said “I don’t think so”, went out to the porch with her phone, came back ten minutes later and said they would be out by the end of the day. She told them her poor desperate mother was attached to an oxygen machine that needed electricity to operate. Nova….you are a rockstar.

As far as the potentially profitable thing in the undisclosed location…it looks profitable. We might be moving there for awhile. But, I’m sure that’s a whole update unto itself when Andy runs some numbers and plots some strategy.

Another thing that I thought about writing about but didn’t, partially because the event itself curtailed the writing…my new beautiful MacBook Air died. I brought it in and Mac replaced the logic board and happily, they didn’t have to wipe the drive. So, really, all I have to say about that situation…”computer broken. Now, computer fixed”.

The only other thing that made the blog cut, and really it should have had it’s own entry, was me not locking the roof storage container on the Element and it flying open on my way down the 8 expressway. I was horrified as I tried to get over to the shoulder as I saw all my favorite camping and snowboarding gear whipping in the wind and gusting down the pavement. I got over and did what any safety minded person would do, run down the shoulder with cars and truck whizzing by and try to pick up as much stuff as possible.

It was really horrible to watch my awesome snowboarding pants get repeatedly hit by semi trucks. The nylon made a sickening THWACK! sound followed by a SZZZZ-CHUNK SZZZZ-CHUNK SZZZZ-CHUNK sound as was run over by nine of the eighteen wheels. I was sure my gear was being shredded right in front of my eyes.

I picked up the stuff that I could and was back in the car making phone calls to relate the events and get some sympathy when a cop knocked on my passenger window and scared the HELL out of me. He asked if I was the lady running around on the expressway. I asked if this “lady” was in any trouble. He said, “no” and asked if it was my stuff. I asked, “why, do you think you can get it”? He thought it was funny and told me not to run around out there anymore.

Taking the cop’s advice to heart, Nova and I came back later on the opposite side and retrieved the rest of the stuff I could see. As far as I know, we only lost one orange rain proof jacket and my beloved sleeping bag. Amazingly enough, the stuff that I saw being repeatedly run over didn’t even have a scratch on it.

Yesterday I met Andy in Laughlin on my way back from San Diego and we spent the night at Harrah’s. We’re back in Vegas tonight for hockey, running a few errands tomorrow and then heading back to Harrah’s Laughlin to hang out on the Colorado river with the fish and the ducks in the sun until Sunday.

I think I’ve written this before but, in case you missed it, I’m in San Diego dog sitting Sam and Abby, two pug dogs for my friends that are at Burning Man. My mom is here for the week also. Abby has pancreatitis. She eats special food and can only have apples and carrots for treats. They have to be separated at feeding time. Abby goes crazy, jumping, snorting and crying while the food is being prepared while Sam sometimes doesn’t even start eating until five minutes after the food is put down. If I wasn’t forewarned about Abby’s behavior I might have made a 911 call to the vet. She practically goes into convolutions at the sound of food pellets hitting the metal dog bowl.

The other day in the living room my mom bent over to pick up something and a package of chicklets in her shirt pocket opened up and spilled all over the tile floor. To me, it seemed to be happening in slow motion. All I could think about was Abby getting to the gum before me, eating it all and her poor little pancreas failing. I threw myself arms and legs splayed, face down on top of the spray of gum pieces like it was a granade and wildly flailed to sweep up the stragglers before Abby hoovered them up.

I was successfull and no gum was eaten. The pugs are safe for another day.

I wish I had video of the event. It was truely heroic.

I’m still in San Diego. Celine (Helene) has been here with me for a week. We’ve found her a house. She’s flying back to Chicago tomorrow and then driving back to move to SD permanently on September 15th. I’m feeling a little downtrodden at the moment. A week with Celine is a little too long. She probably feels the same about me.

Andy and Vlad drove here from Vegas for a short two day vacation. On the first morning they were here, Andy ended up at the emergency room. He’s okay, but for the forty five minutes or so that I didn’t know what was going on it was terrifying.

My mom and I were going to the property management company so she could sign papers for her new house. Andy called and said he was in excruciating pain and Kevin was taking him to Urgent Care. Just the fact that Andy admitted he was in pain at all was cause enough for alarm, but excruciating? I knew it was bad. I told him to go to the emergency room. He said he would consider it. Ten minutes later while we were in the car driving towards Kevin’s house I got a call from Kevin telling me that he was taking Andy to the emergency room. I put the hospital in the GPS and cried some quiet tears behind my sunglasses while Celine diagnosed his symptoms as kidney stones and had had a one sided conversation about them interspersed with “blinker”, “are you getting off at this exit”, “coast!” and “you can move to the other lane if you want to”.

When we got to the emergency room, Andy was in with the lady that puts all of your personal and insurance information into the system. He was drenched in sweat. It looked like he had just walked in from being in a rainstorm. Although now, he had absolutely no pain at all. He said he felt silly and asked if he could just go home. Everyone of course said “NO”.

Kevin, Andy, Celine and I took our seats in the waiting room and recounted the events leading up to us being there. Kevin and Andy both said that they were really worried when they noticed sweat coming out of Andy’s fingers. Andy was writhing in the back seat with a burning, clenching, searing pain in his kidneys trying to convey all of his symptoms to Kevin so that if he passed out, Kevin would be able to talk to the doctors. His arms and hands were tingling and going numb. They staggered into the emergency room while Andy was on the verge of unconsciousness.

Then, as suddenly as it came on, it stopped.

When we saw the triage nurse and Andy described his symptoms, she said it was most likely kidney stones. Andy was not very happy with the diagnosis. Kidney stones are for old guys that don’t take care of themselves. We went back out, shared the info and listened to Celine go on (and on) about the radio show where she heard about kidney stones, Uncle Ralph’s kidney stone and all the medical things that Andy was going to have done to him. We told her to please stop, but most of the time, there’s no stopping Celine.

After a while, we were called back into a room with a bed and medical type stuff and had a consultation with a nurse. She gave Andy a jar and pointed the way to the bathroom. A few minutes later Andy came back and said, “Ummm, I think my kidney stone just came out”. It was in the sample jar. The nurse was amazed. The doctor came in, laughing and amazed. He said that Andy must have set some kind of record. All the information we’ve read since the incident said four days minimum and sometimes up to four to six weeks to get it through your system. He gave Andy a cursory exam, wrote a prescription for pain medication just in case and released him.

We went to lunch and spent the rest of the day at the beach. Andy feels like he has a new lease on life and we both feel very, very grateful that it turned out the way it did.

I’m back in San Diego with Helene….excuse me…..Celine. We (Nova and I) changed my mom’s name from Helene to Celine. It’s her new San Diego moniker. After a morning of house hunting, we’ve arrived at pug central and have commenced to dog sitting for Shawn and Amy who are off to Burning Man.

Celine found the perfect house to rent today and is a little frantic that she can’t get a hold of the property rental company. We left a few voice mails, put a note on the door of the house and sent some emails. The tenants were moving out when we drove by and were kind enough to show us the place. We all knew it was perfect for her. Centrally located in her favorite neighborhood, a corner house with lots of natural light.

We stayed at Kevin’s house last night and this morning I woke up to Kevin explaining to my mom what Burning Man was and showing pictures and video. To put it mildly, Celine was amazed. After Kevin left to drive Shawn and Amy to the airport we watched forty five minutes of Burning Man Youtube videos. Who would have thought that my seventy year old mother would turn out to be a burner. I think she might really be serious about wanting to go next year.

Celine is also very excited about dressing up like a zombie for one of Kevin’s and Shawn’s new projects about surviving a zombie scourge. All morning she was making calls to family and excitedly taking about being a “mummy” in a movie and a thing called “burning bush”. It was pretty cute.

I really hope she gets this house because I’m not sure anything else will compare.

I’ve done too many things this month and now I’m uninspired and have too much to write about. I guess the first and foremost thing that overrides all is that baseball season is over for us. In case you didn’t hear BASEBALL SEASON IS OVER. Not for MLB, just for us.

It was getting later in the season and we were in between a profit we were happy with and a profit we would have been really happy with so, we decided that for preservation of sanity and bankroll we would stop at either of the two choices. Just days after our pact we had our largest and most impressive one day loss record to date, and ended up happy for the season.

All this went on while I was in Baja Mexico eating bean burritos and drinking tequilla. I decided on a last minute trip with friends from LA so Andy could get some programming work done and watch the Olympics without me hovering over his shoulder. You may or may not know this about me but watching any length of televised sports really harshes my mellow. I think it’s the constant crowd noise that does it. I thought if I went on a short trip Andy could get a healthy dose of Olympic coverage while programming without worrying if he was hurting my head.

There were many interesting Baja stories, but I’m not sure if they were interesting enough to commit to paper. Margaritas, laying around on the beach, a short trip to “Scandalosa” Ensenada’s only gay bar. Since there were zero customers in Scandalosa we went over to Hussongs, Ensenada’s oldest bar where ironically enough, I watched the Olympics.

When we left Mexico, we were sent to secondary screening at the border. I accidentally got into the speed pass lane without a speed pass. It was my first time in secondary. I didn’t have anything illegal in the car, but my mind raced anyway. Thank god I didn’t take up the offer (not that I would) in Puerto Nuevo from the restaurant owner who sold us home made vanilla and cinnamon tequilla and then offered that he owned the farmacia next door. Xanyx, Valium, Ecstasy, Cocaine…..whatever we needed. Caesar said he was our man.

Secondary turned out fine. They didn’t even search our car. They saw the yellow ticket (everyone else had orange tickets) wagged a finger and said, “don’t go through that lane next time”.

I flew back to Vegas for the week and I’m going back to SD on Friday (I left my car there) to meet my mom and help her to find a place to live. The house that I grew up in is sold and in a very short amount of time, my born and bred Midwestern mother is going to become a California resident.

We’re going to be staying at our current place until September 15th while Andy finishes his hockey season then, we’re not quite sure what comes next.

RV,
originally uploaded by cindigodotcom.

I think we’ve decided to sell the RV. We don’t really want to but it’s been baking in the Vegas sun and Vegas is not kind to vehicles. We would love to keep it somewhere in San Diego or anywhere with a more temperate climate. If anyone has any ideas as to how we can do that, please speak up.

Here’s the site I made for it:

http://www.cindigo.com/RV/index.html

If you click on the thumbnails, you can view a bigger picture.

We put alot of work into it and really would like to keep it for future adventures, but the right thing may be to sell it. If we can keep it, I found a place in Mexico that can do the exterior painting for cheap. The exterior looks not great, but the inside is. We told ourselves that it was on purpose, you know, for theft deterrent.

super fly mom,
originally uploaded by cindigodotcom.

Swiped from my cousin’s blog: “Woman” refers to my mom. She basically made a split-second decision to pursue and ultimately catch an intoxicated 20 year-old that ran through our yard, into our garage door pushing the other car through the wall. She heard the noise of the screeching car got up and was watching from the kitchen window. She was furious and jumped into the untouched second car in the driveway.

“‘I was afraid he would ram my car, but he didn’t,’” she said. ‘Some people looked out of their house and I hollered, ‘Call the police,’ and I guess they did.”

It was a pretty exciting night. I think I was five or six when it happened. I still remember being slightly embarrassed about being around all the cops and neighbors outside in my pajamas. My sister slept through the whole thing.

The first time Andy’s and my parent’s re-met, Andy’s mom brought up this very subject while we were having breakfast. She said, “Remember that lady from the neighborhood that chased the drunk driver down with her own car?” We all had a good laugh over that. What are the odds?

For those of you not in the know, Andy and I grew up a few blocks from each other. We met in kindergarten, were friends in grade school but hung out in different circles in high school. We lost touch until I got that life changing note six years ago through classmates.com. Cute? Embarrassing? Awesome? I never quite know how to feel about the classmates story.

alien

Originally uploaded by cindigodotcom

I uploaded my SD pictures. You can see them here I took many more, but I’m picky about what I upload.

I’m back in Vegas and don’t have much to add about it.

nova and cindigo x-sanguine 2008

Originally uploaded by cindigodotcom

I was supposed to be back in Vegas this afternoon. I decided that it is next to impossible for Andy to get any proper programming done while I’m around, so I’m staying for a few more days. I know your all disbelieving my motives, but it’s true. Although I’m not missing Vegas, I am missing Andy. But, if I have to stay in sunny and breezy San Diego to take one for the team, so be it.

The epic X-Sanguine party on Saturday night was, well….epic. The above picture is of me and Nova. The party was sponsored by Red Bull and hosted by the Suicide Girls. I have to add here that photoshop has been very kind to those girls. (Like I’m one to talk. I photoshopped my wedding photos for god’s sake.) Also, they we’re alot more boring than I would have expected. Boring and young. Some of them looked 12 and pretty much sullenly sat around the booth all day texting and slouching. I have to say, it did wonders for my no longer 21 year old self.

We got to the party at nine and didn’t leave until around three. I was just going to write that I wasn’t even tired, but I drank so much Red Bull (there may have been a little vodka thrown in the mix) that I think I’m just now starting to fall asleep.

I didn’t think I was the kind of girl that enjoyed private VIP tables and bottle service but I learned otherwise. How fun was it not to have to stand in line for drinks and actually have a somewhat private table and chairs and not have to lean on a banister or wall for the duration. Not to mention that I got to hang out with the tiki bar tv guys all night. I felt like I was watching their video podcast live. Drunken fools, or genius drunken fools, you decide. I missed the crazy, floaty, blow up rubber suit girl but danced in the midst of the insane doctor clowns on stilts. Damn you cable that I forgot in Las Vegas that would allow me to upload all my pictures.

I heard that Anthrax (the band not the disease) was there and a main character from Torchwood. Not to mention Richard Taylor of Lord of the Rings (and many other films) fame who invited Kevin to New Zealand. I was jokingly (maybe) chastised by Andy for choosing to hang out with the drunken tiki guys and not the Oscar winning special effects guy.

I will be back in Vegas by Wednesday. I think. Maybe. We’ll see.

I am here, back to the land of milk and honey, beaches and right now, comics. This is my second annual Comic Con adventure. I feel like an interloper but at least a benevolent one. I mean yeah, I had a healthy stack of graphic novels in college and I enjoyed Ren and Stimpy but this, this is a world unto itself.

I’m supposed to be there right now. It’s 9:15 am and I was told to be downtown earlier so I could actually park. I’ve garnered a super secret special exhibitor badge that lets me in to the “con” (as we like to say) an hour and a half before the masses. I wasn’t exceptionally motivated this morning because I have two more days to cash in on that particular aspect of my golden ticket. Plus, my mom sent me an email asking me to block out a half an hour to “talk” (read complain and try every which way to meddle) about my sister who is having some pretty nasty medical problems. How could I go out and have fun, knowing that I have to have this important and life changing conversation. Better that I stay here in this fluffy, pink bed and await the call.

Yesterday I flew in to the San Diego airport and took a shuttle to one of the hotels close to the convention center. I shared it with one other guy. He was exceptionally chatty and after a few back and forths I realized a bit touched. He really could have been a crazy, drunk homeless guy. But him on the shuttle from the SD airport staying at the Embassy Suites? It didn’t quite make sense. He was asking me all kinds of questions, where I’m from, what I’m doing in town in a manner that I can only describe as a vacillation between Rainman and Charles Bukowsky. When I finally got to ask him why he was in town, he said that he was here for Comic Con also. He rapidly, Bukowski style, told me about being there in THE beginning, trading comics from under his bed in the 50’s and hanging out with the guy that started Comic Con.

When I asked him if he was here for fun, he told me, Rainman style that he was here for a panel. His panel. “I have a panel, yeah, a panel, my panel. Gonna talk about all this stuff, all this stuff”. I asked him his name, still half believing that he was a crazy homeless guy that was in love with comics.

His name: Ralph Bakshi.

I know for most of you, that big reveal of the name didn’t do much, but in a former life, I did go to art school and the name did impress me. Bakshi is one of the few godfathers of modern animation.

We got out of the van and the small thought that this guy was a crazy impostor vanished as I looked down at his dirty, cartoon colored paint stained once white tennis shoes. He asked me if I had a place to stay, because if I didn’t, I could stay in his room with him. At first I thought he was hitting on me, but then as I politely refused telling him that I was staying with friends, thought that he was honestly asking from a crazy guy perspective. He thought I needed a place to sleep and he had a room, perfect match. Or at least that makes me feel better about the interaction.

His panel discussion is tomorrow at 4:30, I might go.

My little home on the web is still a little rickety and not congruent with my grandiose vision. The spam is flooding in, the page readers are being set up and the broken links and strange browser displays are being dealt with. This will probably out me as a little more disturbed that I usually let on but, moving and redesigning my site stresses me out more than actually packing up my entire real time home and moving.

We’re dog sitting for another friend in Vegas. We’ve been given the run of their house and in a little over a day, have thoroughly trashed it. It will all be perfect by the time they get back, but jesus, we really know how to move right in. I hope we’re not being filmed.

Andy’s three day vacation from baseball, the All Star Break, is over and he’s back to work. We’re coming up to month five of seven-ish. The -ish comes about because we’re never really sure if we’re going to bet the playoffs or not. We’re both pretty over being here and looking forward to the end that is in sight. It’s hot, hot and more hot. The news weather people are really into talking about monsoon season but so far, only one bout of storms and I was in San Diego when it happened. For my tastes, monsoons are the best weather in Vegas. I’m looking forward to some torrential rain and destruction of the city that holds us in it’s evil (but profitable) clutches.

I’m going back to San Diego this week sometime to hang out with friends at Comic Con. I tried to convince Andy to bet online for a few days and come with me, but he wouldn’t be dissuaded. He’s a responsible guy that one. Although, I think responsibility is just a thin cover. He enjoys the time alone more than if I dragged him all over San Diego. I personally like being dragged all over the place, but my better half has a much more centered and calm demeanor. I thought for sure that the invite to the Dexter after party would have gotten him, but no, he stood firm. We’ll have enough time to drag each other around the world when baseball season is over.

I’m not joking about that either. It was my plan all along. I watched so much tv that I…..I can’t think of anything to end that sentence cleverly, but just know, it was an epic day. Abby and Sam, the two pug dogs I’m babysitting couldn’t even hang. At about ten or so they called it quits, moved from the couch into their crate and snored like small motor boats until I went upstairs at 1 am.

My original plan was to do more of the same today, but I think I’ve had enough. After the dogs and I are done hanging out on the couch and checking the internets I’m going to the store to buy a delicious brand of dehydrated soup that is only sold at two grocery stores here in SD. Probably this evening I will continue on with the epic slothness that I normally don’t indulge in.

You might have thought with the switch over to Word Press, I would try to refine and update my content a little. Sorry.

*edit: 8:08 pm, I’m drinking champagne that I bought today and watching this:

This is the best weekend ever.