Summer Vacation, Day 68: The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly (Belated)

On Monday, Emma got sick to her stomach, Gabe got stung by a wasp twice in the neck, I wrote several more pages of a novel, Brendan battled his cousins on the Wii, and Trevor approached Jodi out of the blue to admit, “Mommy? Sometimes I don’t listen to you …”

We still don’t know for sure what that was about.

Headed to Mom and Dad’s today to see the horses, mules and longhorns, then from there to the lake and campground. Probably won’t blog again ’til Thursday at the earliest. Take care out there.

Summer Vacation, Day 27: Where the Heck is Gabe’s Watch, and What the Heck is a Slushie?

We left Cowboy Bob’s mid-morning and made our way to Wall. Drove past Hubba’s House in downtown Elm Springs, snaked down through the Cheyenne River brakes north of Wasta – ever since my first trip to the Dennis Ranch, that’s among my favorite stretches of South Dakota – and rolled into Wall, where we collected roughly 20 new states’ license plates (and a couple of provinces) in the Wall Drug parking lot.

We bummed around the world-famous drug store long enough for Gabe to realize he left his nice wristwatch in the restroom an hour or more earlier. I was guessing he left it at the sink, and reminded him that it’s water-resistant, so he can leave it on when he washes.

Nope, he took it off and set it on top of the toilet paper dispenser while he was in the stall. “Why?” I asked.

He thought a moment or three. “I don’t know,” he said.

The watch wasn’t at the lost-and-found, and Gabe was fighting off tears admirably. We were about to leave when I thought, If I were an honest tourist and found that watch, I wouldn’t know where the lost-and-found was. I’d turn it in at the closest counter.

We went to the Western art shop and told the cashier what we were looking for. She said she thought they had it across the hall in the Country Store. Sure enough, there it sat behind the fudge counter. Gabe was so excited he snatched it from the hand of the young Polish gal at the cash register and nearly forgot his thank you – she was teasing him a bit, as though she had a watch but perhaps not his watch. Anyway, to remind him of his manners, I pointed out that her nametag said she was from Poland, and asked him how she he thank her. He was beaming at his watch and couldn’t remember.

“Dziekuje,” I told her.*

“Oh! Prosze!” she said.**

It was 98 degrees when we crossed the Badlands. We ate supper at a drive-in burger joint in Rapid City, and tried to explain to Trevor what a slushie is. We compared it to ice and juice, snowcones, whatever we could think of, but nothing was clicking. Finally Trevvy hit upon something that showed he hadn’t heard a word we had said. “Ooooooh!” he said. “Just like when you flush a toilet!”

Yes, my son. We are having Flushies for dessert. On second thought, let’s have floats.***

Now we’re at Grandma and Grandpa Venjohns’ place. It’s late. Sweet dreams!

* * * * *

* Pronouced “jeen-KOO-ya” – Polish for Thank you.
** Pronounced “PRO-sha” – Polish for both
Please and You’re welcome.
*** Come to think of it, in this context,
floats sound disgusting, too.

High Country Fishing

So I thought I’d give words a rest and share a few photos from our mountain excursion with our good friend Cowboy Bob, while we’re on the topic.

That’s Jinglebob himself, and a shaggy varmint we’ll call The Kid. I hadn’t realize Bob hadn’t spent much time in this country; his head was turning every which way, trying to take everything in, and he kept shouting “Oohs” and “Aahs” and various expletives, whic was nerve-wracking, since he was driving, too …


Every view a postcard, but the camera won’t do them justice.


The only elk we saw in all of Colorado was this beautiful bull in Estes State Park, comfortably chewing his cud and enjoying his protected status. My dad, uncle, cousin, and a family friend had were hunting elk with black powder rifles south of here – but Bob, the Kid, and I were seeking trout.

We tried fly-fishing and casting spinners and spoons in the Colorado River for a couple of days, to no avail. On the way to the river one day we looked down into the valley to see this train snaking through a stone archway!

On the last day of fishing, we found it: a quiet mountain lake stocked with cutbows – a rainbow/cutthroat cross, I’m guessing. We fished with with worms, spinners, and a jar of salmon eggs a couple of other fishermen left for us. The Kid caught the biggest (and the smallest – poor little thing bit off more than he could chew), and the group caught 13 in all. Pan-fried with salt and lemon-pepper, they were delicious!

I’ll try to post a group shot, but I need to check with our other intrepid fisherman (and his folks) to be sure it’s alright.