A hiking we will go

I have been vacationing in the beautiful city of Sedona, Arizona . Amongst a back drop of clay and sandstone rock formations, we found many adventures and met many interesting people . There is such a variety of hiking destinations, it was hard to choose the best one for us.

Our first walk was a 2 mile hike along a creek bed, dead ending at the base of an enormous rock. The rock provided  a view of the valley for those fostering mountain goat within them and a good sense of balance.  Mountain goat Mr. Man clambered up but left the camera behind so he only has a mental image of the grand view. I handed the camera to him as he edged his way downward but he refused to attempt the climb again for the photo op.

For this week of hiking and exploring, Mr. Man bought me some walking sticks. I felt foolish using them at first because they seemed to be only used by senior citizens and grey haired men. . . I was rudely reminded that my prejudiced is unfounded because that is a description of us! I refused to use the sticks until we prepped for the big hike up a canyon which was a 6 1/2 mile hike. Doubting my jacked up knee would last that far, Mr. Man assured me that we could turn around at any time and head back. Game on. 

So we hiked and I used my hiking poles, pretending I was the Black Diamond mogul skier of decades ago. The trail was beautiful and crossed a wide stream many times. After mile 3, I was getting tired and the weather was getting cold with snow on the ground. Definitely tired of being passed by dozens of REAL senior citizens in their 70's and 80's like I was standing still. One of the seniors, "Dottie", got separated from her group during a treacherous stream crossing and hiked full speed ahead looking for the group. She stopped to catch her breath and recounted how her soon to be dead husband and former best friend would rue the day she caught up to them. I suggested gently than she may be ahead of them as they had not passed us on the narrow trail and we crossed the stream before her group.

Swearing and throwing rocks, Dottie provided us with a few cussing remarks concerning her group and vowed to divorce her husband the second they were reunited.

  

I stopped at mile 3.5, knowing I had to go back the same route. Mr. Man said he wanted to finish the hike and it was only another 1/2 mile. I wished him luck, picked a comfy rock and sat there for 1 1/2 hours waiting to freeze and muscles seized up. Dotties lost spouse, BFF and others came along and sat with me as they waited for lost Dottie to get to the end and double back. They were a happy bunch and remarked how lovely the day was without Dottie. Finally, Mr. Man returned, Dottie in front of him and he stopped to rest with me before we headed back. Dottie passed her group rapidly but told them she had new friends to hike with, a lovely lady couple who wanted to be with her and walked on.

After resting, Mr. Man and I headed back. He had hiked another 2 miles before realizing the end was a lot further then the designated trail head stated, and with the sun setting below the canyon walls, the air temperature was dropping fast. We double timed it out of there. My sticks became crutches as I moved along and I used them as Pole vault poles for the stream crossings. Mr. Man was on a mission. We had to get to the parking lot to see the end of Dotties adventure and cat fight with her "former" BFF. Using the last surge of energy and muscle power, I made it back. Much faster returning down the canyon than up it. My hip and thigh muscles were screaming about the abuse but held together.

Sadly  Dottie and her senior group were much faster than I was and we missed the grand finale and face off but there weren't any blood stains or broken glass in the parking lot.

Remarkably, my legs didn't fall off in the night and I wasn't even sore. In fact, my knee can still bend and probably hike again, but maybe not so rough and far next time. It was definitely worth it though. You cannot deny there is a creator who has made such a beautiful place to experience and explore in.

I'll be going again next year.... with my sticks.

Meno peli e' piu salsa

Friday nights are date nights with Mr. Man. We started this tradition to not only end our week with a little fun and to catch up on what our big plans for the up coming weekend were, but also to remind us that we are still a couple. A team. You've got my back I've got yours. We can still have fun together. We still think alike and finish each others sentences.

Some Friday nights are exciting and creative and go on and on. There are also the duds. Dinner is down the street and not so good, we are tired, one of us is crabby and / or bitchy (it ain't me), or the date starts at 5:00pm and we're home by 7:00. Ugh! That's the worst. Date fail. Home before dark!

Occasionally a date can start boring and end up awesome or amusing. This was the case on our last date night.

We were at an Italian restaurant, enjoying the ambience, the patrons talking loudly and excitedly after getting their first drink and meal. I am also enjoying the evening. My food is awesome but needed a bit of salt. (you had to have permission to utilize it by Mr. Picky Chef who assumes all our palates are refined like his. I'm paying a bundle for this food and I'll put anything on it I want! Even ketchup if called for!)

So here we are, slurping up our pasta and enjoying the meal. A large party is seated by us. They all are having the same meals we are. The fettuccini alfredo is popular as is the steak primavera with marinara sauce. I'm surprised that the young lady in my line of site doesn't like her choices and has removed the meat from her meal. She was loving the sauce and slurping up the noodles efficiently....except her long hair was mopping up the sauce out of her bowl every time she took a bite. Surely she would notice by the second....third.....fourth.....ninth bite!

Her hair was covered in pasta and LOTS of sauce.  Wouldn't you think her tablemates would have mentioned that her hair was turning into the late night special? I mentioned to Mr. Man to take a look at the sauce sucker upper seated across from us.

In typical male oblivion, he says loudly, "Who's dunking their head in their plate?". "Where is she?"

At least he alerted the tables around us to check and see if they were drowning themselves in their sauce. The young lady seemed to finally notice, or heard, and started wiping her hair down. Far too late, she tucks her locks behind her ears and pushes her plate away. There's still plenty of marinara in the hair behind her ear for a snack later.

So you see? This is a cautionary tale.

Tie back, slurp up, and wear a bib.  Less hair is more sauce.

Gustare il pasto!