What's Black and White and Red all Over?

Me. Naked. Reading the newspaper.

I won't include any pictures because this isn't that kind of site, but I got a pretty bad sunburn this weekend.

I took Greg's kayak out on the lake sometime around noon on Sunday. I still don't know that many people here, so what the heck, I had decided to wear a two-piece and get tan. The experts are right: midday is perfect timing for bad decisions involving the sun, water, fair skin, and minimal amounts of sunscreen. 

In my 33 years of living, I have never been able to get an effortless tan from one day at the lake. I don't know why I thought Sunday would be any different. When I was a teenager I think I actually believed a nice, golden tan was something my dad was keeping from me to teach some sort of life lesson. I played softball pretty competitively, meaning I had a practice or a game nearly everyday and a tournament every weekend. So while I was out in the sun a lot, I was always dressed like a dork. So basically, I figured I wasn't allowed a lot of extracurricular sun in order to preserve my energy for softball. Oh how I mistakenly assumed the whole world was against me. "You still think that", observed Greg. "Write your own blog post", replied Kimberly.


Softball in the early 90s was responsible for some of the worst tan lines since the mankini. I'm sure the girls today still get tan lines, but I've seen their uniform styles, and they seem to make more sense protection-wise. I remember we all wore this sunscreen called Bull Frog. Bull somethin', alright. It did nothing to stop sunshine from burning into our skin like a wildfire, right up to the edges of our shirts, shorts and socks. And if you wore knee pads like I did, it was even worse. White feet, tan calves, white knees, tan lower thigh, white upper thigh, you get the picture. I looked like a short stack of Oreos. Also, I wore a batting glove under my fielding glove on my left hand, so my right hand was always tan and my left arm stopped at a stump to meet my little white hand. I loved softball and miss it dearly. Everything but those tan lines. Here's me in my '93 padded-bra bikini in a hotel pool after a ball game. And for those of you who haven't seen me in a bikini, I still look like this as far as you know. Note the tan face and neck, LINE, white chest, torso and upper thigh, LINE, tan leg disappearing into the chlorine.

All that to say that Dad wasn't teaching me any cruel life lessons back then. I was just fair-skinned and blond like him, and he knew I'd burn like a hydrogen sulfide cocktail if left to my own vain drive to be tanned or be damned. I'm not really vain, despite the fact that I worked a picture of a bikini-clad-high-school-me into this post.

Also, Dad was my coach for many years, and he wore the standard-issue coach socks and high-waisted tight poly shorts. He probably had tan lines too, which perhaps is why he stopped wearing his mankini. Poor Mom.

Back to the now world, where all pictures of me are carefully planned, then cropped and edited. Saturday we went out in the woods and got ready to tent-camp. We took some pictures, naturally, and then in the evening spent some time fireside with our new friends Mickey, Chrisi and their three adorable girls. Yes, we admittedly made a fire, but made sure it was out before we left the next day.

  Emily was playing with Willie when we heard tiny screams of terror and saw her running toward us.

Kids get over things so quickly.

The next morning I woke up, Casper lying next to me and gazing out of our tent. Such a sweet thing to wake up to.

Such a sweet thing to wake up to. Right, Greg?

We pulled over at a roadside area where we found free access to the lake.

We stayed for a few hours, then left the free section for the fee section so we could put the boat in the water.

And you know the story from here. Maybe I can get an Aloe Vera endorsement.

Mega Blog Blah-Blah

Greetings!

We've had a lot going on since my last post, but don't worry - I am sparing you most of the boring details. I might start posting every few days or, as necessary, instead of trying to consolidate everything into one mega-blog. I end up leaving some good stuff out, and you poor souls end up reading basically a very long email. Or, maybe you don't end up reading it at all...I wouldn't blame you. I need an editor.

We went to our Infamous Stringdusters concert this week. They are badass. They're all incredibly talented, and they promised to come back to Flagstaff - I hope it's soon! For their encore, they came back onstage and said they would play some more, but they weren't going to play onstage - but rather down on the floor with us. So, no microphones or amps, they just came down in the middle of the floor and we all huddled around them. Awesome! We were right behind the bass player, and unfortunately for me he just happened to be the tallest guy with the tallest instrument. Oh well, it was still a very cool thing for them to do and I wish more bands would do it. It was a first for both Greg and I!

I had to adjust the exposure on the group pic, but that's everyone at the show huddled up for the encore. I love the couple on the right dancing with their baby! Ahh. Bluegrass. 

See the last two pictures? This is what happens when I ask Keith to pose for a picture with me. It would appear that he doesn't like me, but see, he does. He went searching for me earlier in the week when I'd gone hiking and hadn't returned in 40 minutes or so. He actually found a knife in the woods, so he spent some time then looking for my injured or possibly murdered body. Evidently I was fine, but that's not my point. My point is, Keith loves me despite his surliness :)

My little beetle is coming along! We had to order a few parts for the engine, which, for some reason got shipped to TEXAS. So we're still waiting for that to get straightened out, but we did find some lowback seats and a roof rack!

I also decided on a name: Gypsy's Magical Peanut Garden. There were a number of factors that went into the name, too many to list here. I'm actually just trying to make this car so effeminate that Greg won't want to drive it.

Step one: select embarrassing name. 

Step two: place butterfly magnet on dash.

In Interesting Things at Work News, the Distinguished Camper of the Week Award goes to this guy:

 

Distinguished Camper of the Week FAQs:

1. Was there really an alligator in there?

Yes.

2. Where did the driver of the truck sleep?

In the top portion of the trailer.

3. Then, where was the alligator?

In the bottom portion of the trailer.

Edwina Updates!

 I attempted to make a redneck chandelier out of a string of lights and plastic cups. Despite the fact that I am very proud of it, I give it a C+.

The VW magnets from Lori and Maggie are finally put into action, holding little notes to Greg and my eyeglasses. 

I just liked this picture. Coffee, lappy, iPod, and my Blackberry (that is pleasantly useless these days).

 I also just liked this picture. I really love my green stove.

 

On Saturday, we hit up some garage sales and got some great stuff, mostly free! 

After the Stringdusters concert, I was missing my violin days and wishing I at least still owned one.

Um, hello. It was a sign...and it was really cheap at a church fundraiser. Score! (Why do I get the feeling that my dad is rolling his eyes right now??? ;))

Hee hee hee...Greg and a bunch of ladies at the free-for-all-hour at the last garage sale...lying in wait for the word "go". This...was the Thunderdome of garage sale grappling. He did get some great stuff though - like a working television for the shop. Meanwhile, I selflessly rescued a quilted duck pillow.

I didn't buy this book on successful glamour photography. No, it's not softcore porn. It's a photography book. My guess is this was in someone's "do it yourself" section.

We finally got the boats out on the lake - went to Lake Mary, which is about 5 miles outside Flag. Temps were mid 80s with a light breeze, and we found an island that we hope to camp on soon. 

Simply awesome day.

And finally, some closeups of Greg and I!!!! 

We're having an awesome time, but we really miss everyone. 

Not that anyone cares besides me, but thank goodness my bangs are finally growing out. I will never let anyone cut my bangs again. I will close with this picture below, taken the day before we left Tulsa. This was when the bangs were in their "Pauly D from Jersey Shore" phase. I have no explanation for the headband, I bought it as part of a "3 for $5" deal at some gas station in between here and LA.

Come visit us! It's fun here and we miss you!

Love,

KK&G

Beetle Mania!

Oh momma.

Greg gone and done bought me a Beetle. The drivin' kind.

My first air-cooled VW!
Not too shabby. Greg found this for cheeeap. (Not kidding, your first apartment probably cost more.) But it's complete and rust-free. Gotta love those dry Arizona veedubs! No name yet, but we know it's a girl. We've been brainstorming...Bailey (Beetle Bailey), Bundy (probably bad luck, definitely poor taste, and wrong gender anyway), The Hooter (I like owls). Then Keith suggested "Gypsy". And Greg likes "The Peanut". 

More brainstorming needed.
More about my little beetle in a bit...

We cut back on the exercise this week. It wasn't intentional, but perhaps needed. Keith and I started working, then we had the Big Trouble in Little China movie night, then all of a sudden it was Memorial Day weekend.

I'm pretty happy with our Memorial Day Weekend in to-tal. Greg and I had planned on heading down to Sedona Friday after work, but Sweet Pea had another plan. I think I'm beginning to understand Sweet Pea. She's been with Greg for a long time, and for much of that time she's been doted on like a newborn. Every once in awhile she gets neglected. So, like any self-respecting female - she lets him know that is not acceptable. I get it. So she refused to start, then gave him the silent treatment and wouldn't tell him why. When she was finally sure that she had his full attention, she hinted that she might like a new starter. Sure enough, that was all she needed. A little love and a new starter from her man. My man. We have an understanding. It's totally cool.

Sweet Pea took Greg and I and the doggies down to Sedona on Saturday to check things out. It's a cool drive, because you're in the middle of all of these tall trees when all of a sudden it starts to look like this:

This whole roadtrip turned out to be a bit of a bad decision as Sedona is a huge tourist gig on any normal day, and here we were trying to outrun the shoppers on a major holiday weekend. But more people means more people-watching.

This guy was a favorite. It was hot and crowded in Sedona, so therefore I applaud his pluck and defiance in dealing with the conditions afflicting him. I can almost hear his thoughts, "Damn this shopping. Damn this heat. And damn these buttons, Martha..." And no, not homeless. He's clearly got a cell-phone holster clipped on the belt loop there.

We were starving and it was lunchtime, so lunch was at the Havelina Cantina. I liked the name, and we heard they had green chile fish tacos (which sounds heavenly even when you aren't starving). Minor fail. They actually didn't have green chile fish tacos, but they had a chicken chimichanga covered in green chile. 

Greg = all over it.

 This look on his face is as much pain as it is pure bliss. I told him it was too hot, but he's a little green chile slave boy, he is.

I had shrimp tacos. They were pretty fantastic as well.

After lunch, we decided we'd get a little hike in before heading out of the blazing pit of tormented shoppers, snatching up all of the wretched holiday weekend discounts. Ha, I used to love to shop! Who am I.

 Hiking was much better than shopping, but still pretty hot compared to what we've been used to weather-wise. "Why suffer? Let's go home and do this", said Kimberly and Greg. Willie and Casper agreed.

     

Willie's ears gauge wind. Her paws gauge scorching hot blacktop. So under a random truck she goes.

Heading out of town, we knew we'd made the right decision as even more people had sentenced themselves to shop in Sedona. Traffic was backed up all along that pretty little desert drive into town. We waved goodbye to Sedona...

Waved goodbye to all of it's giant...red rocketship rocks.

And said hello to all of our pretty trees and mid-seventy degree perfection that is our beloved Flagstaff.

We were about 10 minutes outside Flag when we got a phone call - our lowball offer on the beetle had been accepted!

What a pleasant miracle. I don't think either one of us expected to be beetle parents when we woke up that day, but it happened and we're excited and nervous and all that stuff. It's going to take awhile to sink in, so right now we're just trying to decide on a name and learn all we can about beetles.

This is the latest picture as of press time. Greg has the windshield out. I cannot believe how nice she's cleaning up! We pulled the plastic off the dash to reveal this beautiful painted metal. Too bad someone hacked a hole out for their CD player. Would've been nice to have the original metal uncut.

 Got my boys in the front seat.

And my baby in the back.

Greg and I spent the rest of our Saturday night working on our new toy, and Keith went back to The Orpheum for the Southwest Summit Metal Show. He stayed for the whole show and then came by the shop afterwards and watched us clean and coo. I've never spent a Saturday night hanging out in a car shop, but I see more Saturday night car shop dates in my future. It was fun.

On Sunday, Keith and Greg finally decided to get serious about our outdoor relaxation situation. They rearranged the picnic table and hung our mesh tarps. So now Casper officially has a *perimeter* to poop outside of. Sadly, shortly thereafter, I caught her pooping next to the picnic table. Casper the adorable lazy pooper strikes again.

It's really hard to capture the coolness of our new front yard action that Greggles and the Keith have created. It should really be seen, in person. Ok? So figure it out. Look, there's me at the picnic table poring over this week's very late post to my online journal.

Well, it's Wednesday night now and we're getting ready to go watch some music tonight. Back to The Orpheum again, this time to see the Infamous Stringdusters. We've seen them once before at Harvest last year. Cool story, we were hanging out in Sweet Pea in between shows and this guy walks up, starts talking bus talk as he had just recently bought one, and so forth, et cetera. Then he said he had to go because he played in a band and they were on next. Oh! Cool. We didn't have to leave Sweet Pea to hear the music on this particular stage, so we're still sitting there when about 15 minutes later we hear, "This one goes out to Greg and Kimberly, out there in their V-Dubya bus..." Uh...YEAHH! We got a song dedicated to us! So...it's that band we're going to see tonight. The Infamous Stringdusters. And I think we met the fiddler.

*****

STUPID UPDATE: I am a poop in the pants. I got the wrong night for the Stringdusters...it's next Wednesday. We almost went to see the show that was playing instead until we found out tickets were like $36 a pop. That was, like, three times the amount of the Stringdusters ticket, so we just opted to loiter outside for awhile and listen for free.

There was a beagle across the street sitting outside of a bar. So we went to pet the beagle and ended up going inside the bar. It was like half bar / half convenience store. Interesting beast. And perfect, since I don't drink anymore, the glass-cased convenience store side made me feel like I wasn't such a lameball drinking a soda. That comfort of acceptance was quickly shattered when I walked up to the bar to pay for my Dr. Pepper, and the bartender acted like he didn't even know what to charge for such lame lameness in a nighttime drink choice.

"Uhh...I don't even know what to charge for that....how about......a dollar."

Really. No one ever orders just a soda. Like I even believe that. Ok fine, Justin Timberlake bartender. You're not taking away my sober sunshine, just so you know. I really wished I had a coupon for a free soda, just to fully irritate him. Because I felt I had only partially irritated him, much in the way he was probably also partially irritated by people who drink, but aren't LIKE TOTALLY INTO drinking and drinks and different beers and IPAs and micro-brews and all of that other stuff that I have a distant and valid appreciation for until it becomes snobbery. And then, I must hate on and pity you snobs. This bartender was an excellent salesman, though, must say. Very into his patrons and what they were drinking, very good at closing the sale and then following up to make sure there was no buyer's remorse of the alcohol. Not on his watch! JT threw out some real zingers:

"You like that?! That'll put the Irish in any non-Irish person. It goes down smooth. I mean...almost too smooth. Watch yourself."

"Do you like that?! Yeah?!?! I LOVE IT. I've got like...THREE of those in my fridge at home and I just LOOK and them, and I am like MAN. MAAAAN. That's good shit there."

Who ogles beer in their fridge and doesn't just drink one already? Sad weirdo.

Ok, well I'm sleepy so that's all she (me) wrote. Sorry me blogs are so long (said in sleepy Pop-eye voice). G'nite.