Blazing Saddles

This morning we took a ride out through the Kaibab National Forest.


Slingshot.


Shiloh.


Ben.

The Curse of the Katrino

"Funny," you might say. "That doesn't look like Scott's car."

Yesterday Scott's car starting belching fire (which has NOTHING WHATSOEVER to do with my taking his compact sedan four-wheeling through the desert in search of a secluded spot for Mr. Hopkins to take a dump) and we had to take it to the nearest mechanic qualified to fix it, 75 miles away in Flagstaff at the European Auto Werks. Yeah, "e". I think that "e" means that we will pay twice what the repairs are worth. In the meantime we get to drive this fancy green machine. Whee.

Buffalo Park Urban Trail

While we were waiting to find out just how many millions of dollars it was going to cost us to fix the car, we hung out at Flagstaff's Buffalo Park, where Erin went back to her simian roots.

Also, stinky Harold got a bath. Look at that shiny butt.

Trespassing

Between the three of us, apparently there is not one who is capable of reading a map. So, while trespassing on federal property in search of the Rim Trail (which, incidentally, we never found), we came across some really cool stuff:

Something, not specified, flanked by a large sign informing us of just how dead we would be if we tried to dismantle it or remove any part of it. (Note Erin performing an astonishingly accurate portrayal of Early Man.)

An old mining camp, complete with Boom Dust.

Modern performance art by moles.

Burnout.

What's left of the last kid who whined about her parents' choice of vacation spots.

Banner raised, gong... sounded?

It was a little windy.

Hopkins is all about his stylin' pack, as are we. He carries his own poop now.

The Assassination of Jean-Paul Marat in his Bath

I really want this painting in my bathroom. Does that make me creepy?

I can see your Temple Garments!

Major thanks to Christy, Kevin, Kelsey, and Kacie who put us up and fed us and entertained us for a few days in their little corner of the creepy mecca of Mormondom. Hopkins had a fine time with Jake and Maddie, and spent his few days with them putting on the charm: sticking his tongue up everyone's nose, crapping on the floor, eating houseplants, and stealing socks. I cemented my title as Sister-In-Law Least Likely to be Invited Back by dropping an entire bottle of wine on the floor, an offense which could be forgiven if it hadn't been a bottle of wine carefully chosen by Kyle in New Zealand and smuggled - at great (imagined) peril - through U.S. Customs. I'm such a schmuck. Sigh. Thanks, guys.

Lush Puppy

I swear he didn't learn this from us.

Yummy Salad

Dressing:
3/4 cup ranch salad dressing
1 Tbsp lime juice
1 tsp curry powder
1 garlic clove, pressed

Salad:
1 large Granny Smith Apple
1 medium carrot, peeled and cut
1 salad sized wad of baby spinach leaves
1 small red pepper, diced
1/2 small onion, sliced
1/2 cup sweetened dried cranberries

Chicken:
1 lb boneless, skinless chicken breasts, cut into 1/2" cubes
2 Tbsp snipped fresh cilantro
1/4 cup sliced almonds

Mix ranch, curry, lime juice and garlic. Set aside.

Cut up the apple and the rest of the veg and mix together.

Fry the chicken until no longer pink in the middle. Coat with 1/4 cup of dressing mixture. Add cilantro and almonds.

Add the rest of the dressing to the salad, then lump it all together and eat it. Because it's yummmmmmmmy.

Master Trackers

So, sort of on a whim (and 2/3 of us through coercion and bribery), we joined an Animal Tracking and Sign Interpretation class through the FVCC Continuing Education Center. We and five other were able to join Brian Baxter, a field biologist, in the Owens Sourwine nature preserve and learn how to track critters. We had a blast!



We learned about poop and prints and smells, and were able to identify in the field: raccoons, mink, squirrel (no moose), deer, coyote, beaver, heron, grouse, skunk, and house cat tracks. We rooted around in a few critters' houses and sniffed some poop (whoo!). We saw eagles and geese and deer and had a wonderful day in the great outdoors.



We found what looked to be a heron playground. Very cool tracks all over this little island.



Brian, our fearless leader.

Big thanks to Berit for sending us the photos, since we were too stupid to bring the camera.

Indignance

We went outside yesterday evening for our daily tromp around the house. Hopkins was wiggly and excited to see the neighbor's Brittany spaniel, Huck; they sniffed noses through the fence and much tail wagging took place. Then Huck did an about face, lifted leg, and pissed on Mr. Hopkins's head. Bath time followed immediately.

How excited was Hopkins? This excited:

Mr. Hopkins & The Devilry

Roll it, pat it, mark it with a K-A-T-E

Scott is totally the Baker Man.

One of many firsts

I've never seen my husband in a tie before. He is so hot.

Nobody likes me...

So, Hopkins had his first visit to the Whitefish Animal Hospital last Monday - accompanied by his sisters and brother of the feline variety. Aside from all the cats being fat - I'm sorry, overweight - all was well amongst the Moseley pets. Hopkins received his first doses of dewormer, and THANK GOD we decided to go for that. There is nothing quite so disgusting and tragic as watching your poor dog try to squeeze a mass of four-inch-long wriggling rubberbands out his ass. Sorry for the imagery, but if I had to go through it, you might as well ride along with me.

In other news, Miss Buttercup has arthritis and Chicken needs a few teeth pulled. Ah, the bliss of having 'senior' pets.

Oh, and... stairs!