Great Expectations

One would expect a 32 year old woman to be able to park in a garage.  Well I can but it was filled with anxiety.  When you grew up in a trailer and have rented apartments your entire adult life, in Texas no less, there wasn't any garage in which to park.

Here in Billings the weather has turned cold and gray.  They high for today was 53 which we reached about 9 am and it's been falling since about 11.  It's 42 and raining.  That rain may turn to snow, so I decide the garage is the best place for my car. 

I pull into the drive line it up with the outside of the garage door and then get out of the car to stand infront of the garage and mentally measure the width of my car and compare it will the really small looking garage door.

I go inside because the pressure is just too much, it takes Jessica making fun of me to build up my confidence enough to give it a try.  I block out the metal scraping noises echoing in my head and slowly creep into the garage.

I did it!  I did it!  I didn't even hit Kevin's bike when I surrounded with the trash bags just to give myself a bumper. 

I know I should be ashamed of admitting that I was unsure of my parking abilities, I mean I've parrallel parked a bus before, but I'm proud.  It's never to late to stop learning even if common expectations dictate that one should be confident in their garage parking ability before the age of 32.

Hefrowok, Ipeewoods

Sunday, Kevin and I ventured over to Idaho into the Selway Bitterroot wilderness area of the Clearwater National Forrest for some hiking at Jerry Johnston hot springs. In our guide book we read that the clothing optional thermal pools were only 1.5 miles from the suspension bridge that crosses the Lochsa River.



I wore black underwear and a black sports bra just in case we decided to get in, my swimsuit was in Billings. The parking area was packed, as were the "pools". Most of the people we saw were younger and clothed, but we did see more than we wanted.



Why are nudes always ugly? As we are approaching the 3rd bathing area, thankfully I didn't have my glasses on, I see a lot of flesh. "Kevin is that old guy naked?" I inquire. "Uh, Yes," replies Kev. "Oh My God is he bending over." I ask trying to keep the giggles under control. It seems that when you bend over naked, one must hold that pose for an unnaturally long time.



After seeing that there just wasn't enough space in Idaho for me, Kevin and a nude guy, we decide that maybe will just keep hiking up through the day use area and see what else there is to see. We hike another half mile or so into the woods; where we spot two park rangers. They tell us about a really cool waterfall about two miles away. The waterfall lies outside the Jerry Johnston boundaries and is actually in the wilderness area.

Bubba chased squirrels. We took lots of pictures. Kevin must have had a power bar and energy drink combo for breakfast because he basically sprinted up the mountain; whereas, I took alot of breaks because I'm fat. We didn’t see any wildlife other than squirrels, but there was lots of wild animal poop.  Once we reached the top of the world we found the waterfall and had a nice little mountain top wilderness pick-nic consisting of, Apples, cheese, beef jerky and chocolate chip Cliff bars for dessert. It was nice to sit there on the edge in the middle of the wilderness where there was nothing but trees rocks and water. Relaxing.

Men, or the little boys in men, like sticks and rocks. Anytime we go hiking Kevin has a walking stick. He also digs rocks. If there is a cliff, or a body of water a rock needs to be tossed, kicked or thrown down/into, I gave Kevin his Indian-- er, um, Native American-- name: Hefrowok, but I guess that sounds a bit cavemanish. The hike back down was less demanding but not necessarily faster, because I had to pee several times. I think I marked more trees than did the dog; therefore, Kevin named me "Ipeewoods". However, that name didn't stick around long I later became known as "Falling Squaw".

Once we got back down to the hot springs area all the bathers, clothed and x-rated were gone. We had the place to ourselves but didn't have the energy to get in and enjoy the thermal waters. I was less than graceful as our adventure came to a close. My hiking boots were just to heavy and the rocks, roots and other obstacles were landmines. Within 500 feet of the park exit a sniper takes me down. I'm peering out over the river thinking that a naked Sacagawea probably bathed there with Lewis and Clark, when my right foot strikes a rock, trying to correct myself my left foot becomes entangled with my right. My arms are paralyzed and my face is rushing toward the hardpan. Luckily, my right foot had been a bit forward so I fell at an angle and my right shoulder cashed into earth before my face. Since my hands were to retarded to stop my fall, my shoulder did all the work. Kevin caught the airborne portion of my routine. He turned around just in time to see my feet above my head in the air and my body kissing the dirt. Being the nice man he is, he showed concern and made sure I was laughing before he started.

I was so exhausted from our adventure that my laughing almost turned to hysteria. I started to feel the tears coming on and didn't know if it was from laughing or falling, but I collected myself. With Hefrowok's help, Falling Squaw got back up. We stood there giggling for an eternity before we could get moving again. The 45 minute trip home was filled with talk of how great our hike was and we both relived my dramatic exit more than once producing giggle fits.

So far, the Jerry Johnston outing has been our favorite, but we plan to attack many more trails in our hiking guide. I'll let you know how they go. Hopefully, I won't fall off a mountain.

Back in Black

My muse had left me for a while and without proper inspiration I had nothing to post. Lot's of things have been going on, but I didn't have the magic to express it. We've been here in Lolo for the past month and unfortunately my new phone/air card don't work at the bottom of the valley where our cabin is located. My internet connection has been limited, but here's a quick run down on what I've been doing. I went with Ely to the River City Roots Festival. Here a few highlights from that experience:

Cash for Junkers opens the River City Roots Fest

Sculptor Sunti Pichetchaiyakul show cases his

lifelike art at the Roots Fest

What can I say? This girl

made me miss my friends.

Since the Roots Festival, I've been making my way around Missoula and Lolo. I've  found an excellent coffee place with bagels and lox. Kevin and I delivered a Schwalbe truck to Salt Lake City, Utah this last weekend. While in Lolo, we've been hiking in the Bitter Root, but what got me thinking about writing in my blog again was the tasty black bean soup I made for dinner last night.

I have been craving Cuban sandwiches and felt guilty about serving Kevin a sandwich for dinner, so I decided that soup and sandwiches were perfectly okay when the soup is homemade and not from a can.

I find it takes quite a bit longer to make things due to the altitude. What should have taken 2 hours took 3 and 1/2. I started with a package of bacon. (bacon makes everything better) Once the strips were crispy, I set the bacon aside and sautéed the carrots, onion, celery, garlic and jalapeno in the drippings, then I added dried thyme, oregano, cumin and a bay leaf. I cooked the veggies and herbs together for a bit before adding the chicken stock and tomato paste.

After bringing to a boil I let simmer. When the liquids got too low I added tap water, and some beer. Oh yeah and I also roasted a red bell pepper and added it to the simmering pot.

While the soup was on the stove I rubbed the pork loin with a Chulula spiced seasoning salt. I seared the loin in some of the bacon fat that I had preserved, then cooked it in the oven at 400 for 35 minutes. When it was done I let it rest before carving it into thin slices to serve on toasted sourdough hoaggie rolls with melted Fontina cheese, pickles and mustard.

To finish off the black beans I ran them through the blender, but left it lumpy not smooth. I added some sour cream and cilantro to the individual servings. It was so good I had to tell you guys about it.

Dead Zone

While in Missoula my Sprint services don't work.  I can't use my phone or aircard in my little cabin.  I noticed after my Mexico trip that my aircard wasn't working even in urban areas.  Yesterday, I called Marquita at Sprint and was told that it would cost me $150 bucks to disconnect my aircard eventhough it doesn't work and if it did it wouldn't work where I live.  Without residential proof I had to pay the fee.  Our rental homes are under the business name and all the utilities are rolled into the lease so there aren't any bills that come in my name; therefore, I don't have appropriate residential proof according to Sprint. 

I ask Marquita what it would be to terminate my phone service as well.  $180 + $150 and what ever my current balance is. I never tell her to do it, but I guess she didn't like my tone of voice and did it anyway.  I went to use my old 940 number today and it was turned off.  I became enraged with the situation, and I almost chunked it out the window, but I don't litter and I don't have all the numbers in it memorized. 

I am done with Sprint .
So for my loyal fans, I mean freinds and family,  I'll be sending you my new Verizon 406 number soon.