An Altered Excursion

If you know me even a miniscule amount, you know that my second home would be the mountains. I love everything about them and camping in them makes the experience of nature even more mystic. The tent, dew, cot, mattress, cool morning air, evergreen scented breeze, campfire, Dutch oven, greasy pancakes, dirt under your fingernails, bug spray, lemonade, out houses, fishing, books, oh the books, hot dogs, mallows, hats, no mirrors and yes, no Facebook. It’s my paradise beyond all stated utopias that are available. My dream spot, as stated if you follow previous posts, #16 Moosehorn campsite in the Uintahs.

The past 6 days, Brian and I spent our time in a slightly different location. Strawberry. It was pleasant, but not the cool, long sleeved weather I was hoping for. The bugs were horrendous, but as I have said, that’s part of the experience so I could deal with it. It was hotter than camping should be, but cooler than O town, so I coped. Fire building was different also. That’s where my vent comes in….
I am 8 months pregnant. I hiked Martins Cove a month ago and granted was more tired than usual but kept pace with everyone and survived. Camping should be no big deal…but it was so much harder than I had imagined. I try not to complain a lot because it bothers the poop out of me when people grumble, but sometimes its ok I found. I am extremely uncomfortable and have this sensation of annoyance when people say they love being pregnant. Granted I have had the easiest pregnancy in the world. Not sure if that’s because my pain tolerance is pretty high, I don’t make a big deal about stupid things, or if it really has just been super easy, but I still have not loved it. Actually, I can say I loathe being pregnancy. Maybe it’s the selfish side of me coming out, but I am thinking, only once more is all I can take. Don’t get me wrong, I have never wanted more than to be a mother. I cry when I watch shows with children, I have been groomed to be a mother and on this pedestal, believe I will be a pretty good one. I can’t wait to hold Zach in my arms. But that’s where it ends. I want him out of me. I want my old jeans back. I want to wear my wedding ring again. I want this water in my body to drain. I want to sit without falling into my chair. I want to get out of that same chair using my legs and stomach muscles instead of my arms lifting me up. I want to be able to lean over and start a fire in a comfortable position rather than attempting to squat and fall in (yeah, still started the fire though). I couldn’t sit in those darn camping chairs for more than 10 minutes without wanting to scream, I about fell backwards every time I got out of one; I had to pee every hour, in the woods…awesome. I wanted to hike and explore, but Brian didn’t want to rush me to the hospital and it was uncomfortable so the longest I hiked was 2 miles on a dirt road. The drive in was extremely bumping and I was having a Braxton hicks contraction the whole time in…it took 45 minutes on that road to find our camp spot. I wasn’t much help setting up camp cause Brian is cautious at letting me lift anything heavy or putting too much effort out. I felt totally and completely helpless and it drove me to insanity. Plus I didn’t get to fish, so it was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Sunday I had a meltdown. I went to bed early, just to lay there because it’s impossible to sleep and Brian came in to check on me. I cried, told him I wanted to be done and I wanted my old body back. He held me and just let me cry. Didn’t try to fix it, he just held me and stroked my head. It’s amazing and what just a hug can do. He knew he couldn’t fix anything, but can’t say he knows how I feel so just being held was the perfect remedy. All in all, I still had a blast. It was a different camping experience and I was able to spend a lot of great time with my mother in law. We just talked and talked and read our books while the men hunted. Enjoyed the outdoors and the break from the day to day gung ho. Now that it’s over, Oct 13th seems so much closer. I still want to be done and have him here though. I am tired of everything hurting, even down to my fingers, but I have 6 weeks left. Pray for me…

CS

I am a supporter of CS. Not Lewis, but of Common Sense.  This post is going to be a ventation  (yep made that up) of anger and annoyance of those with the lack of. I read KSl.com at work sporadically, and it seems like all the articles are the same. Either someone has died in a raging water movement, the government has foiled with our finances again, or someone, primarily a women, has died by getting hit by the front runner or trax. The later is what my vent is about. There currently is a story about a woman that was walking parallel with the trax train in salt lake and decided to cross as soon as the oncoming train was passing. Whether this was suicide or incompetence, I get tired of reading these articles. How difficult is it really, to follow your mother’s advice and look left, then right, then left again? It’s not. For one thing, they are loud, second, they have designated crossing stations and third, if it’s the frontrunner, you have to go underneath the train warning poles. That there is clearly a sign to wait the…hmmmm…maybe 30 seconds it takes for the train to pass. It’s not fun to try and beat it, you aren’t cool and no one will think so. Especially if you are dead. Harsh? Maybe. I guess it depends on what their purpose was. If it was to be selfish and leave their families behind, fine. Mission accomplished. If it was to be cool, and set a new trend, fail. Dying will never be a trend. Grow up, have some common sense and think before you walk.

118

I am a fan of reading. A big fan. If I were stranded on an island, and could only have three things with me, I would have my Zune, nook and soccer ball. I remember staying up past my bed time with a flash light and my covers hiding me as I read late into the night. I love reading. One of my favorite classes of all time high school and college included was my 11th grade English class. Ms Call was my teacher and she truly helped me adore literature. Not just any literature, but well written, deep meaning literature. I fell in love with Hemingway, Salinger, Faulkner, Fitzgerald and Steinbeck. They wrote with passion, emphasis and meaning. And they didn’t write/publish everything that hoped onto paper. Ms. Call always said, the real authors don’t write dozens of books, but are remembered for the one or two masterpieces they fabricate. Which brings me to my rant. Danielle Steel. *Disclaimer* I haven’t read a book of hers. If you are a fan, don’t take this to heart. I can’t really judge her writing.
I was thoroughly enjoying one of my secret indulges this morning, watching The View. Lady Gaga was on and as crazy and weird that she is, when she is on the tube, you can’t help but watch and listen. I think that’s part of the magic of Gaga. She is mesmerizing. The funny thing is when she is speaking; she is eloquent and actually nice to listen too. As long as your eyes are closed. Anyway, tangent, after she was on, Danielle Steel was being interviewed and praised for her recent 118 book being published called Happy Birthday. First off. That is a terrible title. Second, again I haven’t delved into her writing, but it’s my understanding that it’s similar to women porn. I am not sure the difference between men looking at porn and women reading it, but as far as I am concerned there isn’t much of a variation. Third. who in their right mind can write 118 books that are well written and mottled in context? As you can tell, I am quite perplexed about the whole situation. Granted I am no editor, nor am I a writer so I guess it’s hard for anyone to take my opinion seriously due to my lack of creditials, but 118 novels? That’s like whipping out 2 a year…if she started writing at the age of say 5…..That’s a lot of crap pooled together and put into slightly varied novels. She also said she writes more than one book at a time. Ok!!! So I read more than one book at a time, but writing more than one at a single time. That’s outrageous. I would hope authors are putting everything they have into their work, planning, connecting and correlating things together. I.E. J.K. Rowling. Yes, it’s not the Tale of Two Cities, but it’s still a great series with more intertwining correlation than one person can begin to devour. But to whip out more than 2 books a year, that’s ludicrous and again I state, I have no credential, writing is just one of my beloved hobbies, but it’s outrageous and I find, shameful that she is loaded due to this garbage. Wow, the end. Done.