This morning, it was brought to my attention that the Adventures of Jesse the Wonderpoodleis no long on the first when you search for "Jesse the Wonderpoodle".
That means thousands of people(maybe dozens) are missing out. That needs to be corrected.
Without further ado, I bring you The Adventures of Jesse the Wonderpoodle:
Introduction
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Showing posts with label Jesse the Wonderpoodle. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Jesse the Wonderpoodle. Show all posts
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Tuesday, February 5, 2008
Jesse the Wonderpoodle, Chapter 13
Being laid off for almost a year would have been insanely boring if I wouldn’t have had any animals to work with. I bought a horse, actually two but we’ll get to that later. The first horse I bought had bad hips, I got him for 27 dollars. His bad hips make it so he can’t spread his back legs. When he rears up so he falls over and when he runs he trips over his own feet –not good-.
One day we were trying to catch him to work with him and to calm him down when he’s around people. Dad reached for his halter and meat loaf reared up and fell over. I seen him go down and figured that It would be a good time to grab him before he got up. I grabbed the halter and then he kick me above the knee in his attempts to get up, knocking my feet out from under me. There was hooves and feet flyen every which way before he regained his footing and ran to the other side of the pen. As for me, well, I had a quite graphic conversation with the fence post that I was leaning on. It took three weeks before I was able to walk with out pain.
My other horse is a registered paint pony and right now I’m trying to get her papered name to be “small town rumor”. If she’s by herself she’s very easy to work with, to the point that she was my jogging partner until one day my leg was hurting (some of you may remember that I had surgery on my leg. It feels ten times better but every now and then it will start hurting. It helps if I keep moving)and I was just walking and she wanted to run. I let her go to the end of the rope. She was out there pulling on it and getting a little antsy so she throw a kick at me. When the first one missed so I shortened up the rope so her hind legs were behind me and told her that I was going to pretend that didn’t happen. She then moved up against me nudging me with her head. When that didn’t work she landed a glancing kick to my leg. She’s in with Meat Loaf right now and when there together and you try to get close to her to work with her Meat Loaf will start running making her run. On one such time I had to use the lasso to catch her and the tail end of the lasso got wrapped around my arm so when the slack ended it was quite the earth moving experience, actually the earth never moved it was just me skipping across the surface that made it seem like it was. That ordeal left a really neat spiral bruise running up my arm. So I’m going to be forced to put her in a small pen and introduce her to the electric fence. He’s going to the sales barn as soon as we're able to get him in a trailer.
You know, they told me I had a 1 in 10,000 chance of having the strap on my chute come apart and I beat those odds. They also said that I had a 1 in 1,000 chance to get lime disease and again I beat the odds. So now I’m thinken the lottery is next.
You can always look at the bright side!
I’M NOT YOUR CHILD!
I HOPE 2003 HAS A
Sincerely,
Jesse the Wonderpoodle
P.S. This is all 100% true.
P.P.S. Jesse the Wonderpoodle is NOT another name for princewally.
Monday, February 4, 2008
Jesse the Wonderpoodle, Chapter 12
We were all in at the Eagles celebrating a birthday. Well, all of us except Jeremiah, who was going on a first date with a young lady. They got to the movie after it had started and came over to the eagles for the evening. Probably not the wisest choice. By the time they got there we were pretty well tuned and in really good spirits.
One of my lady friends Kay (Dennis’s wife)said she wanted to dance, so I jumped up out of my chair and spun hers around (bar swivel chairs)and gave her a couch dance (Sheila I’ve already told you it’ll cost a dollar). She turned red almost instantly and dropped her face into her hands. I took her by the hand and lead her out on the dance floor. By this time Jerry was trying to disown me. I mean to insult the “hillbilly stomp” In such a manner is just sacrilege.
One of my lady friends Kay (Dennis’s wife)said she wanted to dance, so I jumped up out of my chair and spun hers around (bar swivel chairs)and gave her a couch dance (Sheila I’ve already told you it’ll cost a dollar). She turned red almost instantly and dropped her face into her hands. I took her by the hand and lead her out on the dance floor. By this time Jerry was trying to disown me. I mean to insult the “hillbilly stomp” In such a manner is just sacrilege.
Friday, February 1, 2008
Jesse the Wonderpoodle, Chapter 11
This muzzle-loader season was pretty uneventful, I did get one and missed another. You’ll have to ask my brother about his case of buck fever. One day the temp. dropped almost twenty degrees and was hovering between zero and five above with a very cold wind. As one of the standers, my toes started to go numb, then my fingers before the cold started settling in my legs. After six hours of this the only thing I had on my mind was a nice long hot shower. But when I got home the sewer was plugged so I had to go out to the outhouse for a bathroom break. I mean, bearing my butt to that wind was not on my list of things to do.
To give you an idea on what it looked like: I’ve got fifteen speeding tickets...or driving awards, depending on how you look at it. I mean, were else do you get all those flashing lights and sirens going off and have someone in a clean pressed uniform come up to you and say “you’re a winner” and for a mere $99.99 for shipping and handling you’ll receive your document. I also wreaked thirteen cars and three motor cycles, being hospitalized twice. You know, just in case you're wondering what it's like to be doin' 70 and throw your car into reverse, you know, just to see what it’ll do. I highly, highly, highly recommend you don’t do it. Or maybe see’n how fast you can swerve in between the dotted yellow lines while having your front tires touch the white line on each side before turning back, I got up to 75 before I put the car into a four wheel slide.
Needless to say I didn’t get the over the road job.
Thursday, January 31, 2008
Jesse the Wonderpoodle, Chapter 10
Three days before leaving for Colorado I hit a deer with my truck doing $1800 dollars in damage.
This year I got a couple of friends to go to Colorado with us. Dennis thought I was pulling his leg when I told him that I averaged ten miles a day. But he soon found I wasn’t, he averaged eight miles a day and on the last day (the day we packed up and left) he walked seventeen miles before we loaded the truck for our nonstop trip home (1200 miles).
Luckily we got to cross Nebraska in the dark.
Because of the drought most of the elk had moved down to the farmers fields looking for food making the hunt iffy at best. The day before opening I showed Dennis and Darin a couple of places to hunt (being that we got out there so late they had to rely on my advice). Darin sat down the fork of the stream were I seen the seven mulies the year before. Dennis was in a meadow just over the ridge were a herd of elk had been seen feeding a few days earlier. Their dad (Joel) was in the meadow behind camp (don’t think this is a bad spot because in years past we’ve taken several elk and mulies off this meadow).
I had bought a new pair of boots just a couple of weeks before leaving and they still weren’t broke in. Like every year I climbed the mountain across the stream where I would stay until about an hour after sun up. Then I’d slowly start working the ridges (if there was any elk up there I’d either hear them running off or see them and if the wind was right I’d be able to smell them) trying to get the elk moving. After a couple of hours my feet were killing me (I vowed to never again buy that brand of boot).
While stalking I ran into another hunter who was heading out for lunch. It had been a miserable day for hunting (I don’t think the temp. dropped below 80 degrees while the sun was up). The only thing he had seen was a 4x4 mulie (count the points per-side, /while the animal is facing you left to right)and that was it (it was better than what I had seen). I left him after hearing his story and with the lack of gun shots I could tell that every body else was having just as much luck. YEE Ha I’ve got a day to play with and off to the gulch I headed which turned out to be both my nightmare and obsession.
That night, just before sundown I heard a shot. When I got back to camp it was well after dark (I had six miles to go when I heard the shot). It had been Dennis who shot and believed he got it but didn’t want to try tracking it in the dark. I said that I’d help track it at noon the next day (that would give me the morning to slowly make my way there). The next day I was up on the ridge making my way down to a meadow on the north side when I heard a noise and slowly went to check it out (there was no quietly with all the dry pin needles). As I got closer to where the sound had come from I heard another noise (like quick moving feet). I slowed my movement down even more, to the point were I was giving myself cramps trying to not make any noise. The next thing I know there’s a noise to my right, I looked over and seen an elk running across a clear-cut (old logging site) and it’s a bull, and it’s legal (the first legal bull elk I’ve seen during season). Buck fever set in, I calmed myself and pulled up (I was 30 yards in the trees, so window’s of opportunity were limited) put the cross hairs on his shoulder and touched one off. The elk spun around trying to find where the shot had come from. In my excitement I only pulled the bolt up half way while trying to eject the spent round making a very frustrating few moments. I got a new round in the chamber and pulled up to take aim but the elk had moved to a spot were I had a pine tree blocking my view. I dropped to my knee to get under the branches only to have the roll of the hillside make the elk disappear. I quickly got to my feet and started running for the tree line, throwing my shoulder into a small pine to stop my momentum, pulled up, put the cross hairs on its shoulder one more time and touched it off. The elk started running, I bolted in another round and again with the cross hairs on its shoulder touched it off (to give you an idea on my frustration, with this gun I can put three shots into the size of my thumb nail at a 100 yards and now to miss three times at 75 yards). I bolted in my last shot and took aim, I touched it off just as he was entering the tree line on the other side and was gone.
While looking for blood my uncle showed up (the reason the elk came around that side is because my uncle was coming up the draw. So when I pushed him out he ran into my uncle and came back around) and we spent close to half an hour looking for blood. Hell we’d been happy to find a track in the hard ground. We didn’t so I headed off to meet up with Dennis to help track. While crossing over a mountain (hill) I saw movement out of the corner of my eye, stopped and pulled my gun up. I looked at it through the scope but because of the brush behind it I wasn’t able to make out its antlers. So I lowered my gun saying “its just a damn cow (female elk)” then it started running with the sun glisting off its antlers. I sent a whole herd of profanity chasing him off the hill, I may not have got to shoot him but I’m pretty sure I hurt his feelings. A short time later I arrived at the meadow were Dennis was supposed to be (Dennis had got his elk, it had gone just past the tree line before dieing). I waited there for about half an hour before heading out.
The next couple of days were very uneventful. A couple of us decided to walk from the road in and push the gulch. It turned out to be the most god-awful three miles of the area. First, I was walking on broken slag along a steep slop holding onto sage brush and praying that their roots would hold until I could grab the next one. Then the terrain changed to jagged rock with treacherous footing before turning into a plato with no trees to block the sun (I drank two canteens of water before I got to the top of the gulch). When I got to the gulch I found a spot and started climbing, I was almost to the top when I ran into another hunter who told me that the only thing he’d seen was a couple of mulies. I turned around and went back to the bottom, once there I fired a shot into a stump to get any animals in the area moving.
I walked along the bottom for a ways until I found a spot that looked climbable and headed up once again. Shortly after starting up I heard what sounded like a war up on top the ridge. By the time I got to the top all the shooting was done and Joel had got his first elk (like father, like son they both shot there elk in the hind quarters making them members of the not so popular club of “ASS SHOOTERS”). All the rest of the shooting was because a bull had ran across and just about every body opened up on it (fifteen shots) and only wounded it. When I got to where everybody was they pointed to where the bull had entered the trees. The Sawyer boys, Dustin and myself went to go track it. The wound was so slight that the elk had walked into the woods about twenty yards, licked the wound clean and headed for the high mountain.
I was told later when they came out that one of the hunters from our camp was in the woods relieving himself (taken a crap) when Dave yelled to him saying “if you want to get some shooting in you’d better get out here”. The guy came waddling out, his rifle in one hand and his pants in the other. Took two shots and quickly waddled back into the trees.
The last day of the season Mike shot a beauty of a 6x6 elk. While we were getting it deboned we were trying to decide if we wanted to walk back the five and a half miles to camp along the stream or go two miles to the road down a vary steep mountain side. By unanimous vote we choose the slope. Every body had blisters of one degree or another and walking down this slope with about an extra sixty pounds of meat on our backs (per person). Every step made your feet slide forward in your boots ripping open the blisters and my knee was really starting to act up (two days before I had stepped on a branch that catapulted up into my knee, it wasn’t the hurt right away deal. NO! it didn’t start hurting until I stopped moving giving it time to swell). By the time we got to the road no one was lifting their legs to walk.
After we got back to Minnesota we had a couple of weeks before rifle season started. Being that I wasn’t rifle hunting this year I volunteered to skin deer at the locker. This gave me something to do and a little spending cash.
On one morning after skinning I got up to do chores and had this incredible pain in my side. At first I though it was a pulled muscle or that I had ran my ribs into something that seemed minor at the time. It wasn’t until later that day when I took my shirt off to take a shower that dad noticed the bruise on my side and asked “what the hell did you do to your side”. I looked down at it (I hadn’t figured it was worth the time to check out). And noticed what looked like hairs sticking out of what looked like a puncher wound and my only thought was “how’d I get deer hair in there”, as I looked closer I noticed that what look like hairs were attached to a body. I had to use both hands to pull the tick off.
Once the tick was off we were able to get a good look at it. It was a deer tick and the dimes size bulls eye bruise around the bitten area was the tell tale sign for lime disease. I grabbed my shirt and quickly drove into the clinic to get it checked out (now don’t start thinken that I run into the hospital every time I get a boo boo. But this lime disease is one thing you don’t want. Once the damage is done its permanent–it attacks your joints and lower back. Being that I didn’t have insurance the nurse’s didn’t do the test (witch is only 30% accurate). They just gave the cure. I had to take enough antibiotics to kill a horse for two weeks and I still have a little red scar were it had bite me.
This year I got a couple of friends to go to Colorado with us. Dennis thought I was pulling his leg when I told him that I averaged ten miles a day. But he soon found I wasn’t, he averaged eight miles a day and on the last day (the day we packed up and left) he walked seventeen miles before we loaded the truck for our nonstop trip home (1200 miles).
Luckily we got to cross Nebraska in the dark.
Because of the drought most of the elk had moved down to the farmers fields looking for food making the hunt iffy at best. The day before opening I showed Dennis and Darin a couple of places to hunt (being that we got out there so late they had to rely on my advice). Darin sat down the fork of the stream were I seen the seven mulies the year before. Dennis was in a meadow just over the ridge were a herd of elk had been seen feeding a few days earlier. Their dad (Joel) was in the meadow behind camp (don’t think this is a bad spot because in years past we’ve taken several elk and mulies off this meadow).
I had bought a new pair of boots just a couple of weeks before leaving and they still weren’t broke in. Like every year I climbed the mountain across the stream where I would stay until about an hour after sun up. Then I’d slowly start working the ridges (if there was any elk up there I’d either hear them running off or see them and if the wind was right I’d be able to smell them) trying to get the elk moving. After a couple of hours my feet were killing me (I vowed to never again buy that brand of boot).
While stalking I ran into another hunter who was heading out for lunch. It had been a miserable day for hunting (I don’t think the temp. dropped below 80 degrees while the sun was up). The only thing he had seen was a 4x4 mulie (count the points per-side, /while the animal is facing you left to right)and that was it (it was better than what I had seen). I left him after hearing his story and with the lack of gun shots I could tell that every body else was having just as much luck. YEE Ha I’ve got a day to play with and off to the gulch I headed which turned out to be both my nightmare and obsession.
That night, just before sundown I heard a shot. When I got back to camp it was well after dark (I had six miles to go when I heard the shot). It had been Dennis who shot and believed he got it but didn’t want to try tracking it in the dark. I said that I’d help track it at noon the next day (that would give me the morning to slowly make my way there). The next day I was up on the ridge making my way down to a meadow on the north side when I heard a noise and slowly went to check it out (there was no quietly with all the dry pin needles). As I got closer to where the sound had come from I heard another noise (like quick moving feet). I slowed my movement down even more, to the point were I was giving myself cramps trying to not make any noise. The next thing I know there’s a noise to my right, I looked over and seen an elk running across a clear-cut (old logging site) and it’s a bull, and it’s legal (the first legal bull elk I’ve seen during season). Buck fever set in, I calmed myself and pulled up (I was 30 yards in the trees, so window’s of opportunity were limited) put the cross hairs on his shoulder and touched one off. The elk spun around trying to find where the shot had come from. In my excitement I only pulled the bolt up half way while trying to eject the spent round making a very frustrating few moments. I got a new round in the chamber and pulled up to take aim but the elk had moved to a spot were I had a pine tree blocking my view. I dropped to my knee to get under the branches only to have the roll of the hillside make the elk disappear. I quickly got to my feet and started running for the tree line, throwing my shoulder into a small pine to stop my momentum, pulled up, put the cross hairs on its shoulder one more time and touched it off. The elk started running, I bolted in another round and again with the cross hairs on its shoulder touched it off (to give you an idea on my frustration, with this gun I can put three shots into the size of my thumb nail at a 100 yards and now to miss three times at 75 yards). I bolted in my last shot and took aim, I touched it off just as he was entering the tree line on the other side and was gone.
While looking for blood my uncle showed up (the reason the elk came around that side is because my uncle was coming up the draw. So when I pushed him out he ran into my uncle and came back around) and we spent close to half an hour looking for blood. Hell we’d been happy to find a track in the hard ground. We didn’t so I headed off to meet up with Dennis to help track. While crossing over a mountain (hill) I saw movement out of the corner of my eye, stopped and pulled my gun up. I looked at it through the scope but because of the brush behind it I wasn’t able to make out its antlers. So I lowered my gun saying “its just a damn cow (female elk)” then it started running with the sun glisting off its antlers. I sent a whole herd of profanity chasing him off the hill, I may not have got to shoot him but I’m pretty sure I hurt his feelings. A short time later I arrived at the meadow were Dennis was supposed to be (Dennis had got his elk, it had gone just past the tree line before dieing). I waited there for about half an hour before heading out.
The next couple of days were very uneventful. A couple of us decided to walk from the road in and push the gulch. It turned out to be the most god-awful three miles of the area. First, I was walking on broken slag along a steep slop holding onto sage brush and praying that their roots would hold until I could grab the next one. Then the terrain changed to jagged rock with treacherous footing before turning into a plato with no trees to block the sun (I drank two canteens of water before I got to the top of the gulch). When I got to the gulch I found a spot and started climbing, I was almost to the top when I ran into another hunter who told me that the only thing he’d seen was a couple of mulies. I turned around and went back to the bottom, once there I fired a shot into a stump to get any animals in the area moving.
I walked along the bottom for a ways until I found a spot that looked climbable and headed up once again. Shortly after starting up I heard what sounded like a war up on top the ridge. By the time I got to the top all the shooting was done and Joel had got his first elk (like father, like son they both shot there elk in the hind quarters making them members of the not so popular club of “ASS SHOOTERS”). All the rest of the shooting was because a bull had ran across and just about every body opened up on it (fifteen shots) and only wounded it. When I got to where everybody was they pointed to where the bull had entered the trees. The Sawyer boys, Dustin and myself went to go track it. The wound was so slight that the elk had walked into the woods about twenty yards, licked the wound clean and headed for the high mountain.
I was told later when they came out that one of the hunters from our camp was in the woods relieving himself (taken a crap) when Dave yelled to him saying “if you want to get some shooting in you’d better get out here”. The guy came waddling out, his rifle in one hand and his pants in the other. Took two shots and quickly waddled back into the trees.
The last day of the season Mike shot a beauty of a 6x6 elk. While we were getting it deboned we were trying to decide if we wanted to walk back the five and a half miles to camp along the stream or go two miles to the road down a vary steep mountain side. By unanimous vote we choose the slope. Every body had blisters of one degree or another and walking down this slope with about an extra sixty pounds of meat on our backs (per person). Every step made your feet slide forward in your boots ripping open the blisters and my knee was really starting to act up (two days before I had stepped on a branch that catapulted up into my knee, it wasn’t the hurt right away deal. NO! it didn’t start hurting until I stopped moving giving it time to swell). By the time we got to the road no one was lifting their legs to walk.
After we got back to Minnesota we had a couple of weeks before rifle season started. Being that I wasn’t rifle hunting this year I volunteered to skin deer at the locker. This gave me something to do and a little spending cash.
On one morning after skinning I got up to do chores and had this incredible pain in my side. At first I though it was a pulled muscle or that I had ran my ribs into something that seemed minor at the time. It wasn’t until later that day when I took my shirt off to take a shower that dad noticed the bruise on my side and asked “what the hell did you do to your side”. I looked down at it (I hadn’t figured it was worth the time to check out). And noticed what looked like hairs sticking out of what looked like a puncher wound and my only thought was “how’d I get deer hair in there”, as I looked closer I noticed that what look like hairs were attached to a body. I had to use both hands to pull the tick off.
Once the tick was off we were able to get a good look at it. It was a deer tick and the dimes size bulls eye bruise around the bitten area was the tell tale sign for lime disease. I grabbed my shirt and quickly drove into the clinic to get it checked out (now don’t start thinken that I run into the hospital every time I get a boo boo. But this lime disease is one thing you don’t want. Once the damage is done its permanent–it attacks your joints and lower back. Being that I didn’t have insurance the nurse’s didn’t do the test (witch is only 30% accurate). They just gave the cure. I had to take enough antibiotics to kill a horse for two weeks and I still have a little red scar were it had bite me.
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
Jesse the Wonderpoodle, Chapter 9
I haven't posted any of the chapters in a while, so here is the next installment.
Previous chapters available here.
In September my sister got married in Sedona Arizona. It was a real treat. We seen the grand canyon along with some of the other sites. Jeremiah (my youngest brother) and myself rented a convertible for the week. While at the grand canyon Jason and Elizabeth (my brother and his wife) arrived (they drove) and had the motorcycle in the back. Being it was a nice day they decided to ride the bike. While mom got it into her head that we were going to be late and took off, Jerry in Elizabeth’s truck, I’m in the convertible (Elizabeth would rather be skun alive before letting me drive her new truck) and Jason and Elizabeth on the bike. As soon as mom hit some open road she put the hammer down and was gone Jerry and myself were hard into the throttle to keep up. Jason was five cars back at the start so we didn’t put much concern on them thinking they would catch up, if not we figured they had a cell phone or if all else failed making the assumption that they knew where to go. Well they didn’t, they didn’t even have a cell phone with them.
If you’ve been down some of those mountain roads during the day light you know how treacherous they can be. Now try it in the dark on a motor cycle when the driver has a heavy foot. We lost contact for almost 24 hours. We didn’t get much sleep that night, having to listen to mom rant and rave to keep her self from going into hysterics. The only saving grace was that for part of the pre-wedding activities was going on a tour of the Sedona area and had set a meeting spot that Elizabeth found after a couple of phone calls (they had gotten stuck behind some Sunday drivers and were not able to get around due to traffic). It was nice but had no leg room. My personal opinion is that they are not a practical vehicle (at least not for me). While riding around in it I sunburned my forehead, you can’t even put on a hat to keep the sun off because the brow ridge is rubbing against it and holding the sweat salt there. But any way back to the wedding.
The ceremony was in the shadow of cathedral rock along the river bank. The wedding party and any who wanted to make the journey had a four mile hike through the desert to the site of the ceremony (the grandparents and photographer only had a half mile hike from the other side). The musician they hired played three different kinds of native American flutes, the music they produced combined with the locusts crying in the back ground was a magical sound. Terra (my sister) was dressed in an Indian sari (India Indian) it was the same dress my mom made and wore on her wedding day. On the hike out I made pretty good time, but Andrew’s (Terra’s husband) dad who is in his seventies passed me up and made it to the end of the trail almost fifteen minutes before I did, talk about impressive. As some of you may know I was not the happiest camper at how Andrew and Terra met. But they’ve been together for almost five years with very few known problems not to mention rubbing me the wrong way (joke) when they went to Europe before I got the chance to.
Previous chapters available here.
In September my sister got married in Sedona Arizona. It was a real treat. We seen the grand canyon along with some of the other sites. Jeremiah (my youngest brother) and myself rented a convertible for the week. While at the grand canyon Jason and Elizabeth (my brother and his wife) arrived (they drove) and had the motorcycle in the back. Being it was a nice day they decided to ride the bike. While mom got it into her head that we were going to be late and took off, Jerry in Elizabeth’s truck, I’m in the convertible (Elizabeth would rather be skun alive before letting me drive her new truck) and Jason and Elizabeth on the bike. As soon as mom hit some open road she put the hammer down and was gone Jerry and myself were hard into the throttle to keep up. Jason was five cars back at the start so we didn’t put much concern on them thinking they would catch up, if not we figured they had a cell phone or if all else failed making the assumption that they knew where to go. Well they didn’t, they didn’t even have a cell phone with them.
If you’ve been down some of those mountain roads during the day light you know how treacherous they can be. Now try it in the dark on a motor cycle when the driver has a heavy foot. We lost contact for almost 24 hours. We didn’t get much sleep that night, having to listen to mom rant and rave to keep her self from going into hysterics. The only saving grace was that for part of the pre-wedding activities was going on a tour of the Sedona area and had set a meeting spot that Elizabeth found after a couple of phone calls (they had gotten stuck behind some Sunday drivers and were not able to get around due to traffic). It was nice but had no leg room. My personal opinion is that they are not a practical vehicle (at least not for me). While riding around in it I sunburned my forehead, you can’t even put on a hat to keep the sun off because the brow ridge is rubbing against it and holding the sweat salt there. But any way back to the wedding.
The ceremony was in the shadow of cathedral rock along the river bank. The wedding party and any who wanted to make the journey had a four mile hike through the desert to the site of the ceremony (the grandparents and photographer only had a half mile hike from the other side). The musician they hired played three different kinds of native American flutes, the music they produced combined with the locusts crying in the back ground was a magical sound. Terra (my sister) was dressed in an Indian sari (India Indian) it was the same dress my mom made and wore on her wedding day. On the hike out I made pretty good time, but Andrew’s (Terra’s husband) dad who is in his seventies passed me up and made it to the end of the trail almost fifteen minutes before I did, talk about impressive. As some of you may know I was not the happiest camper at how Andrew and Terra met. But they’ve been together for almost five years with very few known problems not to mention rubbing me the wrong way (joke) when they went to Europe before I got the chance to.
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