Camp Awesome

Please help me welcome Meghan Hill as today's Wednesday's Guest. When I reviewed her book, Making Room for You, on Sunday, I thought she was going to give us more tips about how to clear up the clutter in our homes, but this story is much more entertaining. And maybe the book has all the tips we need. When you finish reading about her adventure on the river, hop over to The Blood Red Pencil if you have a moment. I'm doing my monthly humor post over there, and a good chuckle might get you over the hump. If you need more laughs, you might want to check out the Hump Day Funnies that LD Masterson does every Wednesday. In the meantime, grab your beverage of choice to go along with the scones, sit back, and enjoy Meghan's story.

Don’t ever set out to “float” the Yakima River in Washington State with 14 people and weighed-down canoes rented from a local university. Don’t start several miles upriver where signs caution that the waters are too wild for watercrafts and human beings. I did and the group and its friendships barely survived. 

Years ago, shortly before the 4^th of July, my ex-husband and 12 of our friends set out for a three-day river trip. We loaded the canoes with sleeping bags, tents, backpacks, bins of food, coolers, and enough beer to keep a small city drunk for weeks. It was immediately clear we hadn’t thought out what the weight of our bodies and excessive stuff would do to the canoes, which sunk into the river, barely clearing the surface by an inch.

Late in the day, we set sail. We didn’t need the warning signs, as experience taught us we were in trouble. Five minutes on the water and oars flew out of people’s hands. Two of the four canoes tipped, tossing people and flotsam downriver. One man in a lone kayak whirled out of control in the strong eddies. A couple of women almost drowned. We tried to right ourselves and the same scene played out once again before some of the guys said we ought to pull out of the river to shore and think.

We set up camp along the river that night and spent the evening discussing our predicament over cans of Coors Light and Gardetto’s. It was clear that the women in the group were not amused, full of fear and angry at their boyfriends and spouses for putting them in harm‘s way. I found myself identifying more with the men in the group, sensing adventure and an opportunity to conquer fear.

The next morning, as we prepared to set out, I was chosen to ride solo in the kayak as all the other men needed to physically and emotionally protect their women. Day two proved just as disastrous as the evening before. We lost sunglasses, car keys, wallets, sleeping bags, clothing, and cases of beer to the river as boats tipped over and swirled us every which way downriver.

I almost drowned that day until my friend Jake swam to the edge of the river and held out an oar for me to grab onto. After hours of canoes tipping, losing more belongings, and several more near-drownings we pulled off the river again to set up camp for the night. You never saw a more solemn bunch. Sunburned, mosquito-bitten folks. We had scrapes all over our faces and shoulders from getting caught along the sides of the river where the current pulled us and our canoes toward sharp, dry tree branches lining the bank. We couldn’t have a fire because we selected a spot in tall, dry grass. We glumly realized most of us would be sleeping out in the open as we’d lost our sleeping bags in the constant boat tippings.

My friend Tom asked a couple of us to go for a walk with him. He said, “I know people are angry and scared. But I think this is awesome. This is Camp Awesome. This is a great adventure.”

I agreed wholeheartedly and felt I’d be a jerk if I said that aloud to the rest of the group, who were obviously miserable. We finished our river trip the next day and made it back to our cars alive. Everyone was more than ready to go home, cursing the poor planning and communication that defined the trip. I personally relished the experience. It tested us and revealed our qualities and responses to danger and disaster. Despite the fear, the fights, the tears, I felt strong and stoic and marveled at how rarely we take risks or welcome them. People couldn’t leave fast enough and I was eager to know how soon we could plan to set out on the river again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Meghan Hill’s expertise as a professional organizer, lifetime of writing, and years of studying self-development culminated in Making Room for You, her first book. Organizing for over 100 clients in Los Angeles, often overhauling entire homes and commercial offices and acting as a personal coach, has given her invaluable insight into the process of organizing and allowed her to gain a deeper understanding of what people need to sustain an orderly and serene environment. Her countless day jobs and exploration of what it means to be human is endless fodder for her imagination and writing. Born in Seattle, Meghan now lives in Walla Walla, Washington. She is currently mining her 87 journals for a series of books to publish.

A Lovely Summer Evening

Since I got swamped with a lot of work and did not have time to put together my usual Friday offering, I thought I would let Slim Randles come over to entertain you. This is a particularly nice piece that warrants a slow, easy read. Let the mood wash over you like a warm summer breeze. Since most folks take a cool glass of something out to the porch of a summer's evening, I thought we could share some good ol' Texas sweet tea.

The evening was one of those that come back to you time after time, year after long year. It comes back and whispers of how good life can be when you’re well fed, enjoying life, and a good friend shares the front porch with you on a summer’s evening.

It was that way with Doc and Steve the other night. Doc thought he might have to do a scientific paper on the soporific effects of ice tea, fried chicken, and corn on the cob. As long as it didn’t take any effort.

So when this huge meal had been bull-snaked down, the two grinning friends came out to the porch to watch the sun go down behind the trees along Lewis Creek. The air had that orange and russet glow, and the breeze, that little one that caresses the neck, came slowly down from the hills and made their shirt collars wiggle ever so slightly.

It was like taking a dry bath in paradise.

Doc sidled up to one of the porch posts and gently tested it to see if it could hold the extra weight he was carrying with that meal. It stood fine, so he leaned against it seriously and looked out on the evening’s warmth.

Steve, who was enjoying having a fine meal that someone else cooked for a change, leaned against the post on the other side of the steps.

And then they just stood quietly, watching the day make beautiful skies as it ended.

The shadow on the ground foretold the presence of the circling bird. Doc and Steve paid no attention at first. Then a few minutes later, it was joined by two more circling birds over Doc’s house.

“Buzzards,” Steve mumbled.

“Yep,” said Doc.

They circled some more.

“I think one of us should move a little …” said Doc.

“Move?”

“Well … to let them know … you know.”

Steve sighed, then glanced over at Doc. “Flip you for it.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~

Slim Randles writes a nationally syndicated column, Home Country, and is the author of a number of books including  Saddle Up: A Cowboy Guide to Writing. That title, and others, are published by  LPD Press.

Friendship Deep and True

Just a short blog today. I have company, so I have been away from my computer and the Internet quite a bit this week. My friend, Jan, is visiting from South Dakota, and we have not seen each other for twelve years - lots to catch up on.

We have been friends since we were 11 years old, and other than the time I found her kissing the boy I had a huge crush on, we have always been close. Friendships that long and that deep are so special, and we can pick up where we left off as if the years in between just melt away.

Jan is from farm stock, and her parents taught two young teenage girls some of the values of hard work, honesty, frugality, and how to take from nature what nature gives us to eat, and leave the rest alone. The family lived behind the house I grew up in, and it was nothing for me to hop the fence and visit, especially when Jan's mom was making mashed potato donuts.

Perhaps we ought to make some.

Of the many things that Jan and I have had in common, one is a love for cats. I thought I had one or two too many with my four, but she has 16 on her farm - good thing they are barn cats. She does have one that lives in the house, which is something that never happened up until a few years ago. Cats were out in the barn to do a job - keep it free of critters that would get into hay and feed. They did not belong in the house. At least that is what her husband said for many years until he mellowed and said perhaps one or two could come in.

Jan is enjoying my cats a lot during this visit, and Sammy especially loves the attention, as well as the fact that one lady in the house bends a few of the rules about cats near the table.

Sammy likes to come running across the room and leap up on someone. He's not supposed to do that while we are eating, but Jan did not read the rule book and Sammy figured that out right away. I think I may have to re-train my cat when Jan leaves, but that's okay. We are having such a good time, I can ignore this one little indiscretion - from my friend, not the cat. Sammy will just have to get over it when Jan leaves.

Now for some Friday Funnies. This one is from Shoe:

Shoe asks his friend, "So, what did you do yesterday, Cosmo?"

"I took Skyler to the circus."

"Oh, yeah. How was it?"

"Really weird. During their act, two clowns got into an argument. One accused the other of stealing his makeup design… and he threatened to sue. Then the ringmaster yelled, 'I will not have this circus turned into a courtroom."

Hope everyone has a great weekend. And just a reminder that my YA novel, Friends Forever, is still a free read for Kindle and Kindle apps through midnight tonight. If you know a young teen who might like a story about friendships and how they ebb and flow in those Tween years, you might let them know the book is free.

What was That You Said?

My Wednesday's Guest today is Slim Randles again with a few words about something that some of us can relate to.  

“Bert looks good this morning, Doc,” Dud said, quietly. Three stools down the counter, Bert smiled and said, “Yes, I certainly do!”

We turned toward our old pal. “You heard that?”

“Sure did, guys,” he grinned. “Look….”

He pointed to his ears. “Hearing aids,” he said.

We walked over and looked, and sure enough.

“It was Maizie’s idea,” Bert said. “She made the appointment and everything. Said she was tired of having the TV on so loud.”

“But it was a good idea, Bert,” Doc said.

“Oh, I know. I’d been thinking about it for some time, Doc, but you know how a guy gets. You never really want to admit you need them, I guess. Truth is, I didn’t know how bad my hearing had become until I got them. Yesterday, when we got that little shower … I heard the rain on the roof. I heard a clock tick, too, and it’s been years for both those things.”

“Both what things?” said Herb.

We all looked at each other. We knew who should be next.

“Rain and clocks, Herb.”

“Oh … yeah.”

“The hearing test lady came in the little room when the test was over and asked me if I’d shot guns a lot,” Bert said.

Bert’s younger days as a hunting guide brought nods and chuckles from us.

“There’s a range of sound that loud noises can hurt, and I guess that’s what happened with me. Turns out, it’s also the range of most women’s voices.”

He grinned. “That may have something to do with Maizie’s making that appointment for me. Now I have no excuse when she says things like ‘Take out the trash’ and ‘When are you gonna mow the lawn?’”
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Join the conversation wherever you go. Good hearing keeps you connected with friends and loved ones. Call BELTONE at 1-866-867-8700 to schedule your FREE hearing screening.

If you enjoy these stories, check out his book, Home Country, which is a compilation of some of the best from the guys at the Mule Barn Truck Stop.
                                                       

Monday Morning Musings

As I write this a storm is brewing here in East Texas and I will have to close down my computer soon. When we have lightening, I have to unplug everything electronic because we frequently have an unwanted visitor come through the wire.

Since I don't have time to write a blog this morning, I thought I would treat you to a piece from a wonderful writer, Slim Randles. He has written several books and is a syndicated columnist. He is also a cowboy and hangs out with his friends at the Mule Barn Think Tank where they solve world problems and trade stories. Enjoy....

Someday it would be interesting if social scientists would spend some of that grant money on finding out how some good things get started, as well as discovering sources of pestilence and plague.

It shouldn’t be all that difficult. The cookie thing wasn’t all that hard to figure out.

The cookie thing, we concluded, began with old Jasper Blankenship. He came down from his cabin at the diggin’s and brought with him an entire half pillowcase of cookies. He had found the recipe in one of those 30-year-old magazines he has up there, and since the snow was too deep to do anything else, he baked cookies.

Jasper walked into the Soup ‘R Market and handed a cookie to Annette. “We don’t often get to say how much we appreciate each other, Annette,” the old man said, “so here … have a cookie.”

She thanked him and talked about it for the rest of the day.

Jasper found Doc walking toward the Mule Barn and his daily cup of coffee and handed him a cookie, too.

“Doc … the way you took care of that … little problem of mine … well, I want you to know how much I appreciate it. Here, have a cookie.”

Before the day was over and Jasper headed back to the diggin’s, half the valley had been cookied, and the other half wished they had. Carla Martinez had been cookied and decided to carry on the tradition, so she whipped up a batch of biscochitos and began passing them out, along with compliments.

Herb Collins asked Maizie to make a batch of chocolate chip cookies, his particular favorite, and handed them out, along with compliments. Mickey Baker had store-bought cookies to hand out two nights later at the ticket booth at The Strand, where a Randolph Scott Western was playing for the first time in 60 years. Each cookie came with a compliment, too. This seems to be the most important element of Jasper’s new valley tradition.

Cookies and compliments. Not a bad way to say I love you.

~~~~~~~

Slim Randles lives in New Mexico and his books are: Sun Dog Days, Raven's Prey, Ol' Slim's View From the Porch and Ol' Max Evans The First Thousand Years    Web site