Elisa's Journal

Annika and I had such a great time at the Mayan Dude Ranch. We ditched the boys, left Kristina's nose to the academic grindstone, and left Michelle to reak havoc on the entire Gulf Coast. What did we do in Bandera, Texas? More like what didn't we do! We road horses, had trail ride cowboy breakfasts, hand fed zebras and buffaloes, cuddled with a newborn fawn, road mechanical bulls, watched fireworks, caught fireflies, went tubing down the crystal clear Medina river, and galloped through the Hill Country State Park on horses owned by a private instructor, Jeanie Bobini (I felt like introducing Annika and I this way: "I Jeanie Bobini bananafana bo bini, this is Annika annika bo bannika, banana fana fo fannika and I'm Elisa Elisa bo bisa banana fana fo fisa. Nice to meet you. Whew!" But if I had done that, ANnika would never had been the same again. We also found a sick deer--a young buck, I think. We tried to stand him up but he kept collapsing on his front legs. i think he must have had some deer tick neuropathy. So I loaded him into the back seat of the Suburban and drove him to the ranch in search of someone who might euthanize him. I just couldn't see him suffering a long slow death as buzzards picked the flesh from his still writhing body. But the cowboy we met actually didn't have his gun on him. But he said he could get a holt of a buddy that did. He was fixin to meet up with him anyhow (insert Skol spit here.) I think cowboys are hot, actually. If only they were more well rounded, I'd marry off all my girls to one. It's so cute to hear them say things like, "Jimmy, the squirrels done got into the corn again last night" or "Dadnabit, the horses is eating the hay off the hay ride again!" Anyway, I came back convinced I am not a city gal. I'm a redneck deep down, without the bigot thing. If I had my way, I'd buy me a nice spread with horses and goats and peacocks--some place with a nice river running through it. Maybe one day I will, God willin and the crik don't rise. Just the thought of being able to dress like a slob the rest of my life is heavenly. Or i could just go back to the dude ranch every year.

Posted by elisa at 03:09 PM | Permalink

Those that know me, and, yes, those who would prefer not to, know that my family had a canine tragedy which, thank god, was averted at the 12th hour. Make that 84th hour, actually. Out 10 year old chihuahua, Peanut, decided the grass is always greener on the other side of the pooper scooper. After all, we feed her dog food once a day. Why settle for that when neighbor's yards abound with an all-u-can-eat buffet of cat good? First gap in the gate when no one is watching and she's a fugitive on the run in search of all things smelly. Thing, is, she's not the brightest dog in the world, which may be related to a balcony sky diving adventure gone bad at 6 weeks of age, so she couldn't seem to find her way back home. Think Sassy, Shadow, and Chance with 1/10th the IQ and the directional sense that might, just might, be as bad as mine and you've got your saga. We were beside ourself with grief for those four days as we hiked in 98 degree 300% humidity conditions scouring, with the help of friends, a 5 square yard radius that includes foul smelling dumpsters, sizzling asphalt parking lots, mosquito infested drainage culverts and homeless people who, when questioned, averted their eyes and sealed their lips as though we were asking them for a loan and a place at their pad. While fighting away mental images of her crumpled dead body in some ditch or storm sewer, we made elaborate posters, handed out flyers offering rewards, called every vet, animal clinic, pound and SPCA, and even checked with the guys who have the dubious honor of scraping roadkill off the streets (Ugh. Can you imagine; "Johnny, what do you want to do when you grow up?" "I want to scrape decomposing flesh steeped with the stench of death off the roads and byways." Hmmm. Makes ya wonder, but I'm glad someone is willing to do it (and it's not me) and that Peanut wasn't a unwitting customer. So. Where was I. Oh yeah. So Lukas was standing on the corner of our street waving one of the posters with a forlorn expression on his face. SOmeone took note and went hunting and actually found the little Houdini! Like 6 miles away crossing heavy traffic amid snarling fits. They herded her to a house and trapped her between two garbage cans, then called us to come ASAP. (She's scary looking when she's upset. Makes Cujo look like Benji's nicer little sister.) We all piled into the car and sped to claim her--wondering if the miracle could possibly be true, hoping against but preparing for disappointment. Sure nuff, it WAS her--looking pretty good actually. She was as fat as a little sausage so she couldn't have been too starving. Anyway, a happy ending to a long and fur raising experience.

Posted by elisa at 11:13 AM | Permalink

I think it’s so hilarious what misconceptions kids can hold on to for so long. For instance, Annika has several nicknames for our dogs including this set; Zoe is “Q” for queen, Penny is “SIC” for “second in command” and Peanut is “LIC” for “Last in command” (plus she mercilessly licks anyone within twelve inches of her smelly tongue). When Kristina suggested that “LIC” could stand for “Lieutenant in Command” she quickly corrected her saying it wouldn’t make sense with those initials. “Then it would be “UIC” for “Utenant in Command.” So, okay, that’s pretty cute and after all, she’s only ten, but Kristina—21 years old, mind you—has until the last year or so believed the word “misled” as in “My English teacher misled me into believing I had an acceptable grasp of the English language, was actually pronounced “mizled.” So “she misled me” still meant “she deceived me” but was pronounced “she mizled me.” Needless to say, that’s a brand new word in the Medhus vocabulary. It actually sounds like it means bamboozled, doesn’t it? But I’m really not one to talk. I thought “All intents and purposes” was “all intensive purposes.” What the heck, we’re works in progress. It makes for great teasing fodder, too. Stay tuned for the next blog episode, "Peanut's Near Miss" or "Almost Asphalt Peanut Butter."

Posted by elisa at 11:51 AM | Permalink