ammogirl

Alright. So on Monday night (2 July) we ate the liver and drank the wine and beer and talked and eventually I was completely exhausted and bed was calling for me rather loudly. As we were heading off to bed, my mom said, “Oh, I was going to go for a walk in the morning, but since you are here, I will just skip it.” I, never one to pass up an opportunity for fitness, said, “No, mom, I’ll just go with you! It will be fun!”

Let me emphasize: I said, “…It will be fun”, because clearly, I was unaware of the depths of torture my mother was fond of.

At 715 Tuesday, I walked into the kitchen, ready to go on a little power walk. My mom went through a list: Eat? Drink? Hat? All to which my answer was the same: no. I mean, just a quick walk, right? “But mom, let me just start my coffee up, so it’s ready by the time we get back.” That was me, because that’s smart, right? Get the coffee set to brew, so as soon as we walk in the door I can pour myself a cup of my much-needed morning caffeine. I mean, surely if it WASN’T going to be a quick walk, my mom would have said something, right? Right?

After coffee prep, we headed out the door. It was 730. Remember that. So walk walk walkity walk, my mom all cute with her power-walk arms, and we were about 5 minutes in, nearly to the front gate of their community when I say, “Hey mom? So where are we going to go?” and my mom says, “Ohhhh, up here, over there around there up down here there store downtown bridge bla bla bla.” While she’s talking, I’m sort of hearing alarm bells in my head because I’m not from Salem or anything but she was saying an awful lot of places, you know? So I say, “And how far is that, exactly?” and my evil, evil mother says, “Oh, 9.3 miles.”

what! the! FUCK? NINE POINT THREE MILES?

“MOM! I can’t walk 9.3 miles! I’ll have to…um…bodily function I refuse to talk about!” (that was me) “Oh, okay…we’ll go a different way then…” (that was my mother, speaking in a very sad, dejected tone. How could I deny her?) “No, mom, its okay. I’ll be okay.” (that was me, CLEARLY out of my freaking MIND.)

You guys. We walked. and walked. And yes, walked. We went one way, then another, and over the bridge that goes into downtown Salem, and it was at the bottom of this bridge that I thought to myself, “If I stop now, I’ll have to wait for my mom to walk home and then drive all the way back to get me, soooo, I might as well just keep on walking” and all the while, my mom is jauntily skipping along. We were walking on a bridge next to a main road, and when trucks would drive by I would be showered in road stuff, and the fumes from passing cars were nearly suffocating, and yet my mother…sighhh. It was on the return home, midway up the bridge that my hip started hurting and I had to modify my power walk into a sort of pigeon-toed shuffling gait. 5,000 hours after that, I said, “MOM! How much farther do we haaaaaave?” and she said, “Oh, not far now! Up this hill and around, and that’s it! It’s only about 2 miles…” (oh good, I thought, I can handle two miles) “…and then, it’s only .7 miles from the front gate to the house!”

Yeah. Three miles later, we finally made it home, me walking like I was 80 and using a walker, and my mom walking like she was 21 and running to answer the phone. I was pathetic. It took us 2.5 hours, and that was nearly ten minutes slower than my mom’s normal time for that particular route. It’s one of her “short” ones, by the way. The others are around 12 miles, and one is almost entirely hills. She was telling me a story about one of her paths and something something something, “…and I had only walked about 2.5 miles! I was so out of shape back then! Tee-hee!” Yeah, um…I power walk every Tuesday and Thursday, you know? And my longest one is around 3 miles. She wipes my power walks up with her dirty towels.

My mom is almost 67, you guys. NOW do you wonder why I’m so crazy about working out? It’s obviously genetic. I am positive of this fact because I actually have another walking story, only this one involves my dad, the Northwest Region Over-60 Tennis Champion. I’ll get to that one in a few days.

And I swear, I’ll tell you all about Lincoln City tomorrow, okay? How much more fun is this when I have so many stories for you? Yay!

Tschuss!!

So. As I said, on Monday Kari and her family and I piled into the mini-van, in which they were dropping me off at the airport and then heading off to their OWN vacay. Kari, who I KNOW fully remembers our conversation about loathing Barbies, sat me in the back with her two girls and their traveling bags o’fun, fully loaded with, yes…Barbies. Because I cannot resist Kari’s daughters, who are totally MY daughters at that age, and because I really AM known as Monkey Sillypants around those parts, and Miss Sillypants LOOVVVVVEEESSSS to play with dolls (not for real), I threw myself in whole-heartedly to the game. Also, I knew we would be at the airport soon. Ohhhh, Kari, I’m sure you had a laugh.

Anyway, my drop-off and subsequent wait at the Seattle airport went very smoothly. I even bought 24 hours of wireless internet, even though I was only going to be waiting for 45 minutes. I know, how silly was that? I didn’t even have anything to look at, and just emailed with my sister Toni about the ridiculousness of getting wireless at the airport. I tell you what, though…I looked important! AND! I got called to the podium over the loudspeaker, which of course was fun for me. Doesn’t take much, here. Finally, after the excruciating less-than-an-hour went by, I hopped on the puddle-jumper and before I knew it, I was walking through the Portland airport looking for my parents. And believe it or not, they were there, AND they looked excited! I know, I don’t know why either. Just kidding. Who WOULDN’T be excited at the prospect of me?

I know this is going slow…bear with me, it’s 4:45 in the freaking morning, alright? I woke up EARLY FOR YOU.

As soon as we made the drive to their house in Salem, my parents IMMEDIATELY started asking me what kind of wine I drank so they could go and buy some, and because, um…I don’t actually know, I just went with my mom myself. What? Look, my favorite wines are German red, and unlabeled Italian. How much of THOSE do you think are laying around on the shelves at Roth’s? None, okay? Fortunately, there was a wine cheat sheet and we ended up getting plenty, and we spent that evening drinking wine (and beer, for the parents) and talking. Or I was talking. A lot. And they were…well, they were at least PRETENDING to listen. I don’t know.

Oh, also, my mom made the requested liver for dinner. I don’t care what you say, okay? My parents served some weird crap when we were growing up, and liver was the least obnoxious of them, and it sort of grew on me. Plus, she makes it with some really kick-ass fried rice, so. My sister Kathy? SHE requested Creamed Tuna on Toast as one of her first night choices, and if that doesn’t prove that I grew up in a strange family, nothing ever will. I mean, besides sounding verrrrrry dirty, in a S-E-X way (creamed tuna, hee hee), its disgusting to eat. So. Liver it was.

Either way, it was a fun night, and the next morning we were up bright and early for the upcoming drive to my niece’s house in Lincoln City. Also, my mom and I went for a “walk”, but THAT IS A DIFFERENT STORY. I will tell you this: my mother is sneaky.

Okay, so my niece. Mindy is my oldest brother’s daughter, and she was born when I was 7. Which makes her ALMOST 30 today, ha ha! Anyway, let’s just say there were extenuating circumstances which interfered in us seeing much of each other while growing up annnnnddd…leave it at that.

Jesus, can this post get ANY FREAKING LONGER? No, I don’t think it can. Ha ha, you guys, I totally fooled you! I will finish my LC post tomorrow, there is just too much fun to write about. Plus, if I break it up like breadcrumbs, you will totally keep coming back! See? I am smart!

See you tomorrow. Or, the next day. What? It’s Friday over here in Deutschland, okay? I have weekendy stuff to do!

Tschuss!!

Because I know everyone out there has tried to email me at least 73 times, I wanted to let you know that apparently it wasn’t working, so I never got those emails. I have a new one now: agisfab at ammogirl dot net. Or else you can just click on the “email ammogirl” link.

Also! The mailing list might be figured out soon!