Good morning Boys and Girls,

Here's a post SweetLady (Emerging) and I wrote last night sitting outside on my front porch. She begins...

So, Mystery Man & I just returned from a vacation in Colorado. It was a wonderfully relaxing trip (for the most part). During the lengthy drive, we listened to Slaughterhouse 5, by Kurt Vonnegut. There’s a part of the book where a fictitious author is describing a story he’s never actually written to a woman at a party. She asks him if it’s true and he assures her that it is - he says it’s just like advertising - they can’t stake a claim on a product if it isn’t true. The best part is that she’s convinced. I tend to be a bit more skeptical - especially when MM tells me he’s just a regular guy. I have some basis for my skepticism. We’re up at his place right now and earlier, he was describing how he’d like to dig into a hill on his property and build a little hut. He tells me it’ll be “stronger than shit”. Being the goof that I am, I ask him whether or not shit is really that strong. He gives me a lengthy explanation of how people in other parts of the world, until a few years ago, have actually used human excrement as a basic component of their building materials - but it’s OK because it only smells for about a week after construction is completed. I’m pretty sure the altitude up at the summit of Pike’s Peak has had an adverse affect on his brain.

Look. Or better, to continue on the Kurt Vonnegut theme, “Listen.” The part about using human excrement as a basis for building materials is fact, or, better said, it is based on what I’ve heard. Further, I don’t claim I’m “regular guy” EXCEPT in comparison to SweetLady being a “regular woman”. (Have I ever mentioned she’s bat-shit crazy? No? Oh, well; that’s because I’m so polite.)

Our trip was a rollicking good time. We did, in fact, drive up Pikes Peak and, as is the case in that part of Colorado, I don’t think we were ever out of the sight-line of the peak, no matter where we traveled. We also visited a wolf preserve, the cave dwellings of some ancient Indians - oops, Native Americans - (which I contend were built in the late eighteen hundreds as a tourist trap for we the gullible, and we even played a little golf together. We ate most of our meals at our campsite (read: cabin) and we more than tolerated each other almost half the time.

We’d planned on tenting....

Just to clarify it was me (the supposed princess) who checked out the difference in cost between tent camping and renting a cabin - only because it was pouring down rain when we pulled into the campground. Let me just say - it was well worth the extra cash. We met lots of interesting people. We even shared a hot tub with a couple who, coincidentally, are from the same area as MM. He even does work for the guy’s brother. The world has become a much smaller place, but still not small enough for me to accept the notion of living in a dung hut for the rest of my life. I’d rather tent-camp in the rain. And continuing on the subject of “truth in advertising”, if anyone tries to tell you that the drive up to Pike’s Peak is a lovely meandering 19-mile drive, be wary! I would be more inclined to describe it as a terrifying experience - a more thrilling ride than any amusement park could ever hope to capture. I tried to tell MM that I was afraid of heights. Apparently the tears squeezing out from my tightly-shut eyes and my death-grip on the dashboard as I leaned in towards the mountain convinced him that he shouldn’t try breaking the recently set record for 10 min, 1 sec from the base to the summit in a car. Did I mention it was a 19-mile drive?? Thank you MM!

Did I mention how hot SweetLady looked in said hot tub? Or how soft her skin is? No? Oh well. That’s because I’m so polite.

I’d write more but Miss “can’t we put the air mattress on TOP of the bed so it’s softer?” (God forbid she feel the pea...) seems to have already made this a post so long only our friends will trudge through it. So I’ll close with this: next year?

Yellowstone...

Be good to everyone.

It is my inalienable right as a woman to have the last word (yes, my world IS a happy place). In all seriousness, the only sad part (aside from leaving Colorado) was that my munchkins weren’t able to be there. My son would’ve loved the aforementioned wolf preserve. I’m not much for public service announcements, but if you get the chance, check out their web site. They take in wolves and wolf-dogs who are unable to survive in the wild - usually because ignorant people try unsuccessfully to keep them as pets. The animals are well fed, well cared for, and well loved. Their gift shop consists of little more than professional photographs of the animals and the proceeds are spent on the upkeep of the facilities.

(You people didn't really think I'd get the last word, did you?)