Bike Jock; Recovery Mode; Mountaineering Training; Debris Field; Perils of Husbandhood; Playing with Strippers; Photo Quiz

In my pain the other day, I forgot to post these photos from the Fat Tire Fest of a 30-something guy on a bike doing tricks. He could balance on his bike for 15 minutes at a time, only moving forward and back a few inches, and then going boing like a pogo stick, hop the bike onto a picnic table, where he would stay for a minute, balancing on one wheel, never touching the table with his feet, and then jumping the bike to the next picnic table, and finally onto and over a fence! I wanted to stay and take some lessons, but My Lovely Bride gave me a gentle smack with a tire pump and said, "Time to go home, Hot Dog." "Yes, Dear...." 

We are recovering pretty well following our mountain bike spills. A few bruised limbs and one very bruised ego...  Suzanne has decided to pamper herself, muttering something about estrogen vs. testosterone (wuss!).  For me, a five mile run on Monday and a 34 mile bike ride on Tuesday seems to indicate that (a) the body is recovering satisfactorily; and (b) the mind... well, that depends on your point of view. We also had a pleasant walk through Oklawaha County Park just a few miles from the house. Here is My Lovely Bride enjoying the beautiful scenery, lots of oaks festooned with Spanish moss. It was a perfect day, 72 and sunny. 






And here is Your Faithful Correspondent, in the park playground, doing some leisurely mountaineering training in preparation for our 2014 Summer Tour, which will include visits to the Rocky Mountains and the Cascades. The view from up there was terrific! (Yes, I did check to see if there were any age restrictions, and you had to be at least 6 years old.)















We have lots of birds in our neighborhood now that Spring is officially here and those chilly 40 degree nights have become a thing of the past (that's for you, Terri). Some of the common bird species we see are wrens, mockingbirds, robins, pelicans and songbirds, in addition to our resident flocks of sandhill cranes, anhingha, vultures and the occasional bald eagle. We don't have a lot of hawks in our area; they tend to collect more around the forests and farms a few miles from here; we do, however, have several owls hanging about. This is the second "debris field" I've seen lately, probably a result of a mockingbird's unfortunate close encounter of the worst kind with an owl or hawk. There was nothing left but feathers...




Two of the perils of Husbandhood are Fixing Broken Things and Installing New Things. My Lovely Bride decided she wanted a new lighting fixture in her study. I made a tactical error when we went to our local home supply store and she picked out a nice new fixture - I should have stayed home complaining about my sore hip and begged off on that job for a year or three. Instead, when we got home, she said with typical Ensuzyasm, "Okay, Ty, let's get to it... no lazing about today!" Grumbling, I turned off electrical power to the study (remembering the lessons learned from that classic Navy movie, "110 volts, Your Deadly Shipmate").





Rigging the ladder and collecting a few simple tools occupied but a few minutes - not enough time for a beer (MLB drives me hard!); removal of the old ceiling fan and light fixture was pretty simple, except that (1) the goofballs who installed it had stripped the screws holding it in place, and (2) the fact that it weighed about 300 lbs. Okay, maybe that's a bit of an exaggeration. In any case, what I found after inspecting the old junction box was that it was totally unsatisfactory for the new light.







It took 15 minutes of looking through my pack rat supply of Miscellaneous Spare Parts and Junk to find the bits and pieces required to complete the job. (Ladies, that's what your husbands keep in the Mason jars on the bottom of their workbenches...) My favorite sub-task is playing with strippers. (Hey, get your mind out of the gutter! I'm talking about wire strippers!) Finally, connect the wires, turn on the power and Presto, "Let there be (more) light!" It actually worked, and I didn't electrocute myself or blow a circuit breaker.

Finally, here's our Photo Quiz. I have always liked doors. Not "The Doors", like the band from the 70s, but the wooden type that sealed out the Huns and Vandals (briefly), or those that keep your little Fluffy from biting the mailman (oops, sorry, PC Alert! I meant to say "Postal Carrier".) The best and earliest responder to most nearly, almost correctly, come close to identifying the geographic location of this door (area, building, city and state, or city and foreign country... whatever works!) wins lunch with Your Intrepid Correspondent and His Lovely Bride. And don't think this is a really hard, trick quiz... for experienced geocachers, a 12 digit lat/long will suit just fine.

Catching Air... and Dirt; "Rag Dolly"; Lightly Battered

It is with great reluctance that I write these words. I had thought that I might keep secret one of the most humiliating events of my life, but alas, Sanaya let the cat out of the bag, so to speak. It's a long story, so grab a cup of coffee or tea, unless you're reading this over Happy Hour, which is probably a much more appropriate occasion, since alcohol has the effect of dulling pain. Here we go...


My Lovely Bride and I were scheduled for a 30 mile road bike trip to Bushnell, Florida on Sunday, but after having such fun on high end mountain bikes on Saturday, decided to return to the Fat Tire Fest and try out some other bikes. As we checked out the tents with hundreds of mountain bikes, I may have noticed that I was the oldest person in sight. Keep this fact in mind as the story unfolds. We signed out two 29ers, bikes that have large, 29 inch diameter wheels designed to roll over rocks and stumps (yes, you actually try to do those crazy things) more easily than the 26 inch wheels mounted on traditional mountain bikes. I ride a low-end (not exactly the same as a "low rider") 29er now, but these were top-end bikes. Mine rode well, but Suzanne was not happy on the larger-framed bike. So, we then checked out two 27.5 bikes, which are much quicker and more nimble than their larger cousins.

Instantly we were back into ZAZOOM mode! For an hour or so, we hammered and ripped the trails of the "Dr. Ruth" section, having a blast. It was Nirvana - we were riding at 15-20 mph in places, very fast for an MTB. Then, the lead rider in our peleton of two made a tactical error... the dummy decided to take a big rock head-on and go airborne ("catching air" in MTB parlance, both wheels off the ground... really cool stuff). The take-off was okay, the flight was exhilarating, but the landing was a disaster. Somehow my front wheel caught something and twisted left, and I was unable to regain my balance, and "augered" into the ground with my right hip and shoulder. Even more unfortunate was the fact that MLB was not expecting me to become part of the trail in front of her, and had to slam on her brakes so hard that she executed a beautiful "endo" over her handlebars onto her left shoulder, the impact only partially mitigated by her left hand. (This is colloquially called becoming a "rag dolly".) I glanced back, and from ground level, Suzanne actually looked quite... well, almost... graceful... just before impact. The "thud" was less promising. Due to the laws of physics, her bike then landed on top of her. In the Navy, we call this NG... not good. You see, we might be responsible for the damaged bikes... but I digress. As we lay there on the trail, my first thought was, "Dude, that was REALLY stupid!" The conversation as we both laid there on the ground then went, "Suzanne, are you okay?" "I think so; are you okay?" "I think so."

After checking both bodies for concussions or compound fractures, and the bikes for bent wheels, we mounted up and finished our ride, at a somewhat more moderate pace. Suzanne was even laughing a bit hysterically, I think from the relief of being alive. Since no other riders had observed our crash, perhaps I could keep this A Total Secret! My Lovely Bride was hurting more than I, so we stopped in at an Urgent Care for her to be x-rayed. All was well, so she bulked up on Motrin while I chose to medicate with a large dose of Pinot Noir when we got home. I fixed her a nice fish dinner (it was the least I could do, considering). I knew she hadn't lost her sense of humor when she said, "Ty, you're just like this cod... lightly battered!" Here Rudy consoles his Dog-Dad who was feeling less than perky...




Then it was off to a Sanaya session, which went well except that Suzanne got hugs from a hundred or so people, making her wince due to her bruised shoulder. We had only mentioned our crash earlier that day to Bob and Jan, who had been watching our Rudy and Gretchen while we were biking. There was no way I was going to go public with a story about my inept biking! Suzanne didn't bring it up during her discussion before Sanaya stepped in, but one of Sanaya's key points was that "This One" (Suzanne) had experienced a moment of "glimpsing her mortality" today... At the end of the session, one lady commented, "You know, it was very unusual; I saw a bicycle in front of you while Sanaya was talking (and she later admitted she saw someone fly over the handlebars but didn't want to say that)..." This stunned both of us, because no one else there was aware of our mishap. This was the single most remarkable comment I have ever heard from an observer at a Sanaya session. Suzanne had decided not to mention the "event" in deference to my manly pride, but at this point, she had to explain to everyone what had occurred... sigh. Thankfully, not a single person said, "Ty, why don't you act your age?" That's fortunate, because my reply might have been, "Hey, I haven't acted my age since I was 2 years old... why start now?"

We Have a Winner; Second Sally; Say What? Fat Tire Festival; Giant Lust?

Our Photo Quiz (identify the object at right) created a mini-tsunami of entries from all over the US, Canada and even Scotland. Here are some of the answers/guesses we received, grouped by category:
A. Food
- Bacon (Mary Ann, Lynette, Hans, Donna, Michael, Jerry, Lois and Elaine)
- Bacon, or your arteries after ingesting same (Rosemary)
- Bacon, applewood smoked, sizzling, not to be confused with bacon flavored begging strips (Suzanne)
- Bacon, frying (Trish)
- Fried bacon or red licorice (Connie)
- Sauce or garnish on a food (Barbara)
- Frozen salmon covered with plastic wrap (Nancy)
- Filet of fish with some scales (Jeanine)
- Croissant (Stephanie)
- Chicken enchilada (Bob B.)
- Apple- or apricot-filled pastry from Panera or Starbucks (Steve)
- Frozen meat covered in plastic (Terri) 
B. Animals
- Back of a bullfrog (Christi)
- Some portion of a poisonous toad spotted while I was biking (Jan S.)
C. Minerals, chemicals or vegetable materials
- Tree sap (Karen)
- A salt lamp (Cara)
- Pine pitch (Tom)
- Molten lava (Bob)
- Part of an iron meteorite on Mars in an image taken by NASA's Mars Exploration Rover "Opportunity" in 2005 (Elsa)
-Yellow slime mold from my yard (Catherine)
- Someone stripping varnish off a piece of furniture (Jan) 
D. Medical Conditions
- A bad case of shingles (Carole)
- A scrape on my knee from mountain biking (Lynn)
- The over-tanned, leather-like skin of a "mature" Floridian covered in plastic or Vaseline (Terri of the Frozen North, who is just jealous that we have warm sunshine in Florida while her home state of Minnesnowta is still covered with ice and snow)
E. Abstractions or other categories
- Looking up to the blue sky through the branches of a tree, perhaps a bonsai tree (Mary and Jeanine)

Good answers all, but mostly incorrect... except for Stephanie, from Bella Vista, Arkansas, who correctly identified the object as a croissant. The image was taken with a macro lens on a Nikon D-7000 DSLR camera, and the croissant in question was shortly thereafter happily consumed by the photographer. Congratulations to Stephanie, who will receive lunch for two with Corvette Chick and Your Faithful Correspondent when (a) we can get The Coach to Arkansas, (b) get Stephanie to The Villages, or (c) get Stephanie to one of Suzanne's workshops or speaking venues. Thanks to everyone who participated, and we will have another Photo Quiz next week... "Watch this space!"



We were graced today with visitors from our past. Greg and Marie, of the Sailing Vessel Second Sally, arrived for their first visit to The Villages. We had first met these very experienced cruising sailors in Porto di Roma Marina, about 20 miles outside Rome, Italy, where Second Sally, a Peterson 44, and our sailboat Liberty were spending the winter of 2005-2006. We had both just crossed the Atlantic for the first time, but Greg and Marie have since found that ocean crossings are too much fun to only do once, and have now crossed "The Pond" four times.





We had hoped to enjoy lunch on our lanai, but a cold front has come through and the weather was too brisk to sit outside, so we set up a wine, cheese, bread and foo-foo olive oil feast inside. We ate, swapped sea stories and caught up on news of other sailing buddies, especially our mutual friends Anthony and Annette (A2) aboard Magnolia, a Morgan 44 now enjoying the Bahamian Out Islands. Greg and Marie are considering their next voyage, possibly to the South Pacific, Australia and maybe even Japan. We wish them Fair Winds and Following Seas!








My Lovely Bride loves new electronics, particularly things associated with her iPad and iPhone. In the Navy, she might be called a gearhead or twidget, but those appellations are not totally accurate, because they imply that the person likes to fix things as well as use them. Suzanne's mechanical and electronics abilities are pretty good (for example, she installed a new electric water pump on our sailboat while I was away on travel, and on a second occasion even repaired the electric head, AKA a marine toilet), but now she prefers using complex electronics rather than repairing electrical and mechanical boat gear. She recently ordered a set of wireless Bluetooth headphones, and when they arrived, of course she immediately looked at the instruction manual. (She's obviously not a guy, because as most wives are aware, "Guys don't need no stinkin' instructions!") After reading the manual twice, she had this perplexed look on her face when she said, "Ty, listen to this. 'Can also be un-experienced operator on the designated button to switch operation sound, but need to mobile phone support...' Did you understand that?" The correct answer is, of course, "No, Dear, that is very confusing." (One learns to say "Yes, Dear" and "No, Dear" often when you are an Honor Graduate at Husband Prep School. But in this case, she was absolutely right, the instructions were probably written by someone in a small town far from Beijing without access to a Starbucks barrista for translation assistance.)




To assuage My Lovely Bride's minor frustration with her headphone instruction manual, I suggested we go for a ride on our favorite mountain biking trail. Coincidentally, there was a Fat Tire Festival going on at Santos Trailhead in Ocala, and I thought it would be neat to look at the latest bike technology. This turned out to be one of my Poorer Decisions. Our bikes are several years old, and since we ride them almost daily during our 6 month summer tours, they are getting quite well-worn. Additionally, being low-end models, they are quite heavy. But I did not expect that we would be trying out potential replacements at the bike expo. Here is Suzanne suiting up to test ride a bike designed by and for 20- and 30-something women....it's called the Giant Lust. Really.





I should have realized what was happening when we stopped in at one bike tent and told the young guy what I was riding, and he started laughing. Okay, they were muffled laughs, sort of like "Geez, Dude, only Grandpas ride Diamondback Overdrives, and 29ers are so, like, slow and clunky and retro...." What he actually said aloud was, "Sir, you might be interested in trying our new, 2014 all-carbon 27.5 Anthem Advanced Team model with 1-11 drivetrain, carbon wheels and RockShox full suspension... it's a radical XC rocketship that will blow your socks off." Anyway, after leaving credit cards and being fingerprinted, photographed and retina scanned to ensure they could identify us 20 years from now, off we rode on bikes that cost as much as used cars. We rode an intermediate level trail, much more twisty and faster than we are used to, and we were amazed by the handling, speed and agility of these bikes. It was like going from a 1968 pickup truck to a 2014 Ferrari. But all good things must come to an end, and Suzanne rejected my suggestion that we tell the bike shop guy we had encountered a band of aliens who beamed the bikes up into a saucer and left us tied to a tree...So, no decisions to buy were made, but we are awaiting quotes to see if a second mortgage is required before we can get new wheels...

Window Washing with Kelly Clarkson; A Solo Ride; Special Olympics; Deadlines; Photo Quiz

You would think that by age 66, I would have sense enough to be able to avoid manual labor that could easily be farmed out to someone less decrepit than myself. Alas, that isn't the case. My Lovely Bride asked if I could take on the task of getting the grime off the patio sliding doors. Normally, this would be a 10 minute job, and I could get back to my favorite pastime, watching reruns of Roller Derby. Instead, after transforming the sliding doors to a condition closer to totally transparent than our current Commander-in-Chief has been able to achieve in our federal government in spite of his campaign rhetoric six years ago (that's not a rant, it's simply a comment), I decided to continue on and wash the remaining 243 exterior windows in our humble abode. (Okay, that number may be slightly exaggerated...).









The task was made significantly more pleasurable by having Kelly Clarkson serenading me for hour upon hour. In fact, the job seemed to expand in scope as she kept singing; but I was surprised to look up once and see My Lovely Bride laughing at me... she was trying to record my singing along with KC... fortunately, the recorder could not pick up my unusual frequencies. Danke Gott! In any case, it made the time go by quite pleasantly. (Ladies, when you need your hubbie to get moving on a job, having a 32 year old blonde helping him is sure to ease his pain... just don't let him suggest taking his new assistant on a snowmobiling weekend in Minnesota. With the weather they've been having, the pair might be snowbound in the woods until May. "But Dear, it wasn't my fault... it was due to climate change!")







While Suzanne was returning from her very successful SOAR Workshop at the Edgar Cayce Association for Research and Enlightenment (A.R.E.) in Virginia Beach on Sunday, I rigged the bike rack and went mountain biking on the trails of the Marjorie Harris Carr Cross Florida Greenway. Supported by volunteers from the Ocala Mountain Biking Association (OMBA), these trails provide a world-class mountain biking venue for riders of every skill level.






 

The trails mostly run through pine and hardwood forest, but this photo was taken in an area that had been mined for phosphates in the early 1900s. (Suzanne, this is a selfie; Kelly wasn't riding with me!) I only had one misadventure, when I took one climb a bit too slowly, fell, and managed to scrape my knee and shin on some roots that shouldn't have been put there. (Scraped knees and elbows are sort of a badge of honor to young mountain bikers... I think I'd prefer to skip that award next time.)










Everyone is familiar with the Olympics. I had the privilege of helping out at the Special Olympics in Ocala this past week. There were about 10 of us adult and 30 or 40 high school volunteers helping about 150 middle school Special Olympians participate and compete in a variety of track and field events. I was the tape measure guy for shot put, standing long jump and running long jump. Seeing those young people smiling and laughing and having a wonderful day at the track despite their disabilities gave me an incredible lift.





Anyone who has known or lived with an author knows something of the perils and pain of "deadlines". In the past, My Lovely Bride has completed her book projects on her own schedule, without a deadline, but her latest book is due to a national publisher later this month, and she is driven to have it completed earlier rather than later. We can go for an hour or two without talking when she is focused, and then she will ask me to read her latest chapter and we will discuss it. She also takes a break for meals, readings, PT and sleep.


I can also tell when she needs to get out into the fresh air... like on Tuesday, when our Honda CR-V needed a transmission oil change. It would be at the shop, located 30 minutes away, for several hours. So I asked for a lift, and Suzanne happily mutated into Corvette Chick for an hour or so that morning, and again in the afternoon. It's amazing what 5,000 RPMs, a rumbling exhaust, top down (as opposed to top-less) and wind in your hair can do to recalibrate your mind...

It's time for another Photo Quiz. The responder with the most accurate description of the object in the photo at left wins (Maestro, drum roll, please) lunch for two with Your Faithful Correspondent and His Lovely Bride. Answers will be accepted up until noon on Saturday, and may be addressed to ftgiesemann@aol.com. Good luck!

Hodgepodge; Yellow Slime; Saving Kermit; A Cardinal Display; Organizing Junk; Stayin' Centered; Shimmies and Shivers

Today's blog post is titled "Hodgepodge"because the entries have no apparent unifying theme. Not that there is ever an apparent unifying theme in these posts...



The photo at left was taken by My Lovely Bride - deposits of an unusual yellow substance in our front flower bed. Her first thought was that maybe a coyote with a digestive problem had visited our yard and disgorged his stomach contents. An even grosser thought was that it was from a big snake. After some sleuthing, we found that the yellow stuff was actually Fuligo septica, yellow slime mold, also called "dog vomit fungus: (I am not making this up!). It often appears overnight, growing in pine bark mulch after a heavy rain. It is indeed gross, but totally harmless (assuming you aren't a vegan who thinks it might be a yummy snack). 








Speaking of our yard/garden, Wednesday was the day when the trash guys pick up yard waste; we had set out a big paper bag filled with hedge trimmings and six big palm fronds. I happened to be in the driveway when the trash truck arrived; a young man grabbed the big bag and tossed it into the back of the truck; a second twenty-something guy picked up the palm fronds, and after tossing them into the truck, walked back to the driveway where he carefully shooed a little frog from where he had been hiding under the palm fronds and back into the grass where he wouldn't be run over by the car. I was touched that he took the time to look out for another creature the way he did; it may be a lesson for us all...



This next vignette actually occurred back in the Fort DeSoto campground, but I had forgotten about it until today. I was walking Rudy and Gretchen when I saw a cardinal landing on our car. He would alight on the car door, look at his image in the side mirror, flutter his wings and "strut his stuff", then fly away, only to return in a minute or two and repeat the process. He seemed not only fascinated with his reflection, but amazed that the bird in the mirror was performing the same display (perhaps a mating ritual?) that he was performing.







Life isn't always exciting. I mean, you can't discover dog vomit slime fungus in your yard every day. Normal days are filled with mundane chores, like reorganizing one's junk drawer... you know, the one that holds pens, rulers, batteries, rubber bands, stamps, flashlights, small tools, and other assorted "junk" that you can't leave in an obvious, useful, countertop location because your spouse thinks it's clutter. (Hey, what does she know? Smack!) Anyway, I was assigned the task of cleaning up the aforementioned junk drawer. An hour or so later, it looked quite organized, thank you very much. I just hope I didn't throw out her favorite whatchamacallit...






After recovering from an arduous day organizing the junk drawer, I took Suzanne out to the Santos bike trails to burn off some of her excess energy. Most of the ride was through quiet forest, with hardly another rider to be seen. But near the end we found a recent addition to the trail, a wood "roller coaster". Here is Corvette Chick practicing her technique and looking cool."Staying Centered" has a different meaning when you're mountain biking.





 

Finally, our good friends Bob and Jessica invited us to meet them for dinner at a local Greek restaurant (coincidentally, where a famous award-winning belly dancer would be performing). Suzanne thought it would be nice to see them again and have a nice Greek meal. I thought it would be nice to (a) see them again and (b) to watch a lovely, lithe belly dancer perform. (I avoided a Smack! this time by not telling My Lovely Bride about part (b).)  When Jennifer the belly dancer asked for a volunteer, Bob practically knocked me down jumping up to be her partner for the dance. I'm not sure if Jennifer's look has to do with Bob's (apparent lack of) belly dancing technique or something he said to her... her technique, on the other hand... Wow!

Caravan North; Doxie Derby; A Face-Painted Cutie; Skippy; Crime Scene

On Friday, our neighbors Jan and Bob Blythe (AKA My Good Friend Bob) loaded up their American Eagle coach and drove up north with us for some dog racing. Now, please, for those of you who are members of PETA or Gamblers Anonymous, please don't send me hate mail or picket my house. We did not go to a greyhound track. We did not win or lose any money. And we helped the economy of a town up north get through this brutal winter we've been having. So where did we go? Okay, so "up north" is a relative term... we went to Lake City, Florida, about a two and a half hour drive up almost all the way north to the Georgia state line. And instead of betting on greyhounds, we took our little dachshunds Gretchen and Rudy to the Doxie Derby.

Here's the background... Doxie Derbies are held around the country, and provide an opportunity for these speedy, low-slung badger hunters to show off their blinding acceleration and unmatched focus in long distance races. Courses are generally all of 35 feet long. One owner kneels at the finish line, and the other kneels in the starting gate with their dachshund, awaiting the lifting of the plexiglass gate.When the gate lifts, pandemonium and chaos reign, with some dogs heading straight for their master/mistress, and others circling, wandering, sniffing, peeing, barking, or perhaps even simply sitting down to await a treat, a toy or a belly rub.


With his weak right back leg, Rudy was not a contender in the races; he would, however, compete in the Smooching Pooches Contest, along with Gretchen. He would also act as a race adviser, providing canine-specific advice and moral support for his little sister.  Suzanne (AKA Dog Mom) had been giving Gretchen motivational talks and supervising training sessions for months. Bob and Jan would observe the other contestants, give race by race critiques and tactical advice, and supervise still and video photography. Your Faithful Correspondent  (AKA Dog Dad) would be the starting gate handler, cheerleader and "Relief Supervisor and Pooper Picker-Upper".


Gretchen and Rudy carbo-loaded on Race Day in the coach, while the Pit Crew enjoyed a traditional race day breakfast at Waffle House on the way to the Columbia County Fair Grounds. These events can be grueling, and we wanted to make sure we were fueled and ready for the arduous day ahead.










We arrived early to scope out the competition, signed in and browsed around. The Derby was being held as a fund-raiser for the local Dachshund Rescue, and there were several doggies looking forward to adoption. These two already had homes, and were competing in the Best Dressed category. The English Cream color seen here at left is rare in the US; we've only seen a handful - most Dachshunds are red or black and tan, although our Gretchen is a black and cream; Rudy is red, but almost the color of an Irish setter.

While this was billed as a Dachshund Derby, there were several mixed breeds competing, including this little guy who didn't look much like a Doxie, but who may have had a Wiener dog in his blood line back a hundred years or so ago. We nicknamed him The Infiltrator.












There were lots of families there with their pooches, and this little girl got a special face painting to celebrate the event.

Click here to see a great video of one of Gretchen's races, sure to make you smile.







Gretchen ran in four races, garnering three second place and one third place ribbons. After watching the video, our good friend and neighbor Chris said, "It looks like that Russian Dachshund cut her off!" Well, that's what Russians do - no surprise there... it also didn't help that all of the first place finishers were boy dogs. We were very proud of her speed and persistence. She also came in third place in the Smooching Pooches contest, giving Suzanne 83 kisses in one minute. Sadly, the winner Wiener kissed his owner 123 times, but we think his owner rubbed steak on his face just before the start... Rudy placed third in the Longest Wiener (Dog) competition. Some of the sultry girl dogs were eyeing him provocatively, but we made sure they didn't get their paws on him! (Sorry, Rudy...)






The "Show Stealer" was Skippy, an older Doxie whose back legs were paralyzed. He uses his front legs to pull a tiny aluminum cart and actually competed in and won a race and the look alike contest. The first photo shows his regular cart, and the second with his Skippy's Wiener Dogs attachment.Skippy has a lot of heart!  Here you see a competitor giving Skippy a traditional dachshund greeting.

By the end of the day, everyone was very tired. Our two Blotto Dogs are seen here in a maximum state of repose, otherwise known as "Dogatonic". After a nap, the adults got ready to go out for dinner, allowing the puppies to rest in the coach. After locking the coach and getting into the car, Suzanne realized that she had forgotten something, and went back inside to get it.








She found that in the minute or two after she left the coach, our little "Sneaky Rudy" had climbed up on the couch and had his front two paws on the kitchen counter top, making a recon for food that might have been left out. He looked like the proverbial kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar... With a look of shock on his face, he sheepishly turned 180 degrees and laid down on the top of the couch as if he was just finding a comfortable place to rest. "Oh, hi, Dog Mom, I wasn't going to jump on top of the counter... not me... no way!" (Suzanne reconstructs the crime scene at right for Dog Dad in preparation for a stern lecture for young Rudy.)




 Here are Gretchen and Rudy with their award ribbons. We are very proud of our little Wiener dogs!

And special thanks to Bob and Jan for the great Doxie Derby photography you see here!

St. Pete; Sanaya; Fort DeSoto; New Friends with a Bambi; A Thief; A Coon Rapids Heat Wave? No Fishies...

St. Petersburg, Florida, is one of our favorite destinations. (It is far warmer and sunnier than St. Petersburg, Russia, or St. Peter, Minnesota). We were in St. Pete for another visit to one of our favorite venues, First Unity Church, where Suzanne had a session with Sanaya for a large group in the church sanctuary. It went very well, except for an unprecedented problem with the church's audio system; it was probably Sanaya's super-high energy that caused two different lavaliere microphones to malfunction and emit high-pitched squeals. Suzanne had to call a time out, but Unity's helpful staff rigged an old-style microphone on a boom that wasn't as sensitive, and she was able to continue. It was the longest Sanaya session she has done, almost an hour long. She was totally drained when the evening ended, but very happy.



Fortunately, we had decided to spend two nights at one of our favorite campgrounds, on St. Jean Key at Fort DeSoto County Park, out in the Gulf of Mexico near the Sunshine Skyway bridge. Tuesday was going to be "Recharge Suzanne's Batteries Day". After her daily meditation and brekkie, we donned our Navy jerseys and bike shorts and took off on a 13 mile ride around the park. Here is My Lovely Bride extolling the beauty of the fabulous and empty beach on Mullet Key, and just out of the camera frame, hovering sea birds. (Don't look up, Ty!)






Here's another interesting beach scene... chosen particularly for readers from Wisconsin and other Frozen Tundra States... this of a Cheesehead on Snowshoes at the Apostle Islands National seashore. Now, where would you rather be spending a winter's day, in the photo above with My Lovely Bride on a Gulf of Mexico beach, or viewing the ice caves with the guy pulling the trailer with his kid trying to avoid frostbite????







On the positive side, tourism in Bayfield, Wisconsin, is at an all time (winter) high, with this line of turistas marching atop iced-over Lake Superior to see the sea/ice caves.If this were summer, these folks would be in water 20 feet deep! (Thanks, Terri, for the article from MSPNews with these photos.)

 Later on the ride, we stopped at historic Fort DeSoto. The keys were first surveyed in 1849 by Brevet Colonel Robert E. Lee, but they were not occupied by troops until the Civil War, when Union forces arrived to bottle up Southern blockade runners in Tampa Bay. Construction of the big forts was delayed until the Spanish-American War era, when Fort DeSoto (finished in 1906), and its Batteries Laidley and Bigelow were constructed as coastal defense artillery sites to prevent enemy naval forces from entering Tampa Bay. I am standing beside a 12 inch M1890 rifled mortar, one of dozens of guns that once guarded the harbor. The interior of the barrel of this gun was the subject of yesterday's Pop Quiz for Breakfast, which was won by My Good Friend Bob. ( I guess it helped to be a guy with that quiz; next time I'll have to put something girly in the quiz to even the odds.)

While walking Rudy and Gretchen in our campground, we stopped and talked to a friendly couple from Jamestown, Rhode Island, one of our favorite anchorages when we were sailing. It turned out that we had a lot in common; Bruce and Dorsey are camping here in a cozy Airstream Bambi, but are avid kayakers, cyclists and sailors, with a beautiful Sabre 385 sailboat put up for the winter back in snowy/frozen Rhode Island. In fact, Dorsey had crossed the Atlantic on a steel Colvin Gazelle with her parents, and we had owned an almost identical Gazelle about 15 years ago. We had several mutual friends back in Newport, America's sailing capital (although Annapolis might debate that honor). We were able to entice them over later for sundowners (that's what sailors call cocktails, to confuse landlubbers) and swapped many more sea and land stories; we look forward to catching up with them again when we visit Newport in 2015.

Back at The Coach, there was lots of wildlife around. We found several unusual foot prints on the floor mat just outside our entry door... then we identified them as belonging to this well-known, infamous thief, caught here on camera on the road near our campground. One of our funniest, yet tragic, experiences with Procyon lotor was when Suzanne and I were paddling our sea kayaks on the Maine Island Trail, which offers a series of 200 islands and coastal sites where boaters in engineless craft can camp out overnight in pristine wilderness splendor. After a day of paddling, we arrived at our designated island campsite. We carried our kayaks up above high tide line, secured them to trees, set up our tent, had dinner and were asleep when I heard a rustling sound outside. I opened the tent flap to find a raccoon devouring the last crumb of our only package of Oreos! The little devil simply looked at me, smiled, burped and sauntered off into the darkness. I've never liked raccoons since. (For more info on the Maine Island Trail, see www.mita.org.)


While on the subject of 'coons, I have news from Terri of the Frozen North. She forwarded this photo, allegedly from her cell phone, of the skies above her home in Coon Rapids, Minnesnowta, superimposed with the temperature, 39 degrees. Now I don't want to imply that Terri might be fibbing a bit, but really, 39 degrees in Coon Rapids in February? Everyone knows that the mercury up there rarely rises above zero between September and June! Who is she trying to kid? Maybe it was really 39 BELOW! If this temperature can be verified, it could mean that global warming is indeed real, at least in central Minnesota... Hey, here's an update; as I write these words, Coon Rapids is being hit with a severe winter storm, perhaps another 5 inches of snow and four days of highs in the teens. (Maybe that 39 was real, but it was probably the temporary result of the engine exhausts of a Boeing-757 warming up and de-icing at MSP.)








Finally, I had a spare 45 minutes the other day and decided to try to catch an unsuspecting sea trout at a supposedly "good spot" near Fort DeSoto. In spite of my heroic efforts, there were apparently no sea trout to be had (without the injudicious use of a hand grenade). My Lovely Bride decided to work on her latest book while I tossed my DOA shrimp (that's really what the lure is called) up and down the shore. She was more productive (as usual) than Your Luckless Angler. Sigh...