It's official. I'm a moron.

This past Saturday we went white water rafting. There were 7 of us in the raft and Darren used to be a guide on the Payette. So, all we had to do was rent the raft and life vests and drive up to the drop in location. It is pretty darn cool to live that close to world renowed outdoor adventure!

We did a section of the Payette called Cabarton. It takes about an hour to drive up from Boise and then it is about a 4 hour float from the drop in location to Cougar Mountain Lodge where you get out. It really just blows me away that people come from all over the world to float the Payette River. Not that it isn't worth it, but it is the fact that all we have to do is hop in the car and go. I am originally from Texas, where the only thing to do in the summer time is try not to die of heat stroke, so it is still freaky to me that people spend loads of money and travel a long, long way to do something we can do any time we want. I feel like a Neener Neener is in order.

Anyway - one of the rapid portion of the river is called Trestle. It is a Class III rapid and is somewhat gnarly if you don't know what you are doing. After you clear through it there are areas where you can pull your boat over and sit on a little beach for lunch. We stopped and were enjoying the sun and I never imagined that terror was on the horizon. (Sidenote: Sometimes I really wish I had a soundtrack so that when something bad is going to happen I know about it ahead of time. It would make my life much easier. I'm just sayin'.)

So, there I am. Innocently enjoying some cold chicken fingers and a Twinkie. Soaking up the sun. Appreciating nature. And then...Darren, our ex-river guide, spoke. "Hey Jayna - if you want to float Trestle in your vest I'll show you how." Really? Float a Class III rapid without a boat? Sign. Me. Up! May I just pause here and make an observation? Don't you just love how a complete lack of knowledge of an activity will result in you unwittingly doing the DUMBEST thing you have ever done in your entire life? Well, I know exactly nothing about rafting and when Darren suggested floating sans boat I thought that was the Best. Idea. Ever. And? We should do that RIGHT NOW! Whee! Rapids with no boat!! Let's go!

So, we climbed up a big hill to the railroad tracks that parallel the river. Then we walked down the tracks for about a quarter mile to the railroad trestle and then climbed down the big hill to the river. This is when Darren says to me, "Are you sure you want to do this?" To which I replied, "Of course! This is gonna be awesome!" So, we pick a spot and step into the shallow water at the river's edge.

It just so happens that a mountain stream was cascading down the mountain and flowing into the main river at precisely the spot we decided to get in the water. That? Was mistake number 1. Our legs were almost instantly numb from the frigid water where the snow melt met the river. Our teeth start to chatter as Darren points out some things I need to be aware of. Go in here. Keep your feet downstream. Don't go through that section of water no matter what. Don't panic. Breathe.

Seems simple enough.

We edge further along, holding on to rocks until we see a safe entry spot. Darren says, "OK. Remember, once you go you are going all the way. There is no changing your mind. So...are you sure you want to do this?" "You bet," I moronically reply. Darren says, "OK then. I will go and then you count to 20 and follow me." He goes and I drop myself into the water up to my chest. That? Was mistake number 2.

I count, "One, two, three, fourfivesix" as I am literally SUCKED off the rock and into the rapids. I have about 2 seconds to think, "Oh Shit" and I am immediately sucked under. I bob to the surface and have about a second to get air before I go right through the middle of the only spot on the entire river Darren said NOT to go through. Yea me.

I. Was. Terrified. Let's just say that when we got in the river I had to pee. When we got out of the river I inexplicably no longer had to pee. I literally thought I was going to drown and the more I fought to get air the more tired I got and the harder it became to get a breath. I also swallowed about a gallon of water. Finally, after HOURS (ok...it was about a minute) I cleared the rapids. I floated into clear water and saw the rest of our boat crew standing on the rocks waiting for us.

I kept trying to swim out of the current over to the shore - WAY harder than it sounds - and was just literally dead in the water. So, I went with my instincts and grabbed the first stationary object I came near. In this case, a really big rock. That? Yep. Mistake number 3.

I HUGGED the rock and planned to stay there...oh...until right about forever. The current? Had other plans. I was again SUCKED from the rock. Only this time I was holding on for dear life and my foot was pulled under the rock and when I finally lost my grip the rock stole my water shoe...and a fair amount of skin. After that I floated right up to the rest of the crew and was pulled from the water by Deb and Eric. I commenced sitting on a rock.

Deb says, "Did you take your hat off?" I replied, "No. I guess I lost it." Moments later I look up and see my hat. "Hey," I nonchalantly say. "There goes my hat." At this point Deb kamikaze leaps off the rock into the river and saves my hat. SAVES IT! She suffered a pretty good knee abrasion for her trouble, but I owe her my hat. The mental image of her leaping off that rock will be burned into my corneas forever. If I hadn't been trying to wrap my mind around the fact that I missed the exit to go directly into the light I would have laughed.

As Deb is on the Great Hat Rescue '08 Eric looks at me and says, "Are you going to be sick?" I replied, "BBBeeeeellllllccccchhhhh. No. Heh Heh. That was a good one." And that is when he knew I was going to live. He wrapped me in the biggest hug and says, "Oh my God! You scared the hell out of me! You wouldn't believe the look on your face when you came around the bend from the rapids. I thought you were going drop dead on the spot! I can't believe you did that!" Then he smacked me on the head.

I came out of that little river adventure with the worst ear-ache, sinus-ache and headache you can imagine. So, what lesson did I learn on Saturday? I learned that boats? Necessary, thanks. Also? I'm pretty much a moron.

On Sunday Eric and I ran away to Sun Valley for a bit of alone time. It was gloriously quiet and fabulously uneventful. Here are some pictures for your viewing pleasure:

The drive up.

Mountains in the distance. I took this from the moving car.

The ski hill in Sun Valley.

Up close view of the ski hill.

As you leave the ski hill to go into the lodge you cross over this stream.

This is the outdoor ice skating rink at Sun Valley Lodge. Note that it is over 100 degrees when I took this shot.

Swans in the village.

And what is a post without another picture of my gorgeous husband.

Screaming. The other white meat.

It's Tuesday. And that is pretty much the most interesting thing I can think of to say at the moment. And that? Is sad. My brain is kind of overwhelmed lately. I have had trouble sleeping at night. Granted, I haven't had any trouble at all sleeping in the morning. Right through my alarm. Until 10:00.

My problem is I can't seem to shut my mind off. I lay down and my brain just starts going a million miles an hour. I have spent many a night trying to stave off a panic attack because suddenly? We're all gonna die. Everyone. Is. Going. To. Die. Painfully and probably due to some kind of plague spread via home foreclosure paperwork.

I lie in bed and think about work and my mortgage and my son starting school and tuition for said school and my dog driving Eric the last half mile to total insanity and my inability to stick to an exercise plan and the birds building a nest in our attic and why my car is making a funny noise and...well, the list of crazy goes on.

The newest psychosis inducing activity in our house is related to Mazie. She has this heavy rubber ball that we throw for her outside. It was a purchase necessitated by the fact that she would eat the tennis balls we bought for her. Yes. That's right. EAT THEM. She would start by peeling off the fluffy, presumably lemon-flavored - possibly lime - outer coating. Daintily grabbing the fluff with her front teeth and pulling chunks off. Most chunks were quickly consumed, but occassionaly she would leave a wet pile of tennis ball fur on the floor for one of us to step on and; thus, share her culinary delite with us. She's a giver that one.

After consuming the outer layer of the tennis ball she would vigorously chew on the ball itself until it split in half. That would allow her to better eat the harder shell portion of the ball. This portion of the ball eating process would take anywhere from 10 minutes to 2 hours. Crunching, cracking, snorting, slobbering, growling...for up to 2 hours. SO...we bought the red ball. It's rubber. And indestructible.

Mazie loves her ball. She wants us to throw it for her. All. The. Time. Mazie loves her heavy red ball so much she picks it up and stands right next to your chair and drops it at your feet. Repeatedly. Until you either take her outside and throw it for her or pick it up and hide it from her. You wouldn't think the dog dropping her ball at your feet would be irritating. But it is. Our house has a crawl space under it so when something heavy hits the floor it isn't hitting carpet over a concrete slab. It is hitting carpet over wood over a big hole in the ground. Things tend to reverberate. Through my chair. Through my butt. Straight to my irritation gland. That's when the screaming starts.

I'll let you know when it stops.

BTW - I have to share this text message exchange between me and Lexy. We love each other and it shows!

Me: Don't you have dance class tonight?
Lexy: No. I'm running away with my new husband Leroy.
Me: Does he have gas money?
Lexy: No. He's investing in a clinical trial to help cure his HIV. Things are finally looking good for him.
Me: That is great! That improves the odds that your illegitimate love child, Bubba, will be born with only one club foot.
Lexy: No. we decided to name the twins Gomar and Jebidiah.
Me: I am so excited! Once the twins finish detoxing from the Meth addiction will I get to be Godmother?
Lexy: Well, I already promised the social worker she could be. But, when their father gets out of Intermountain Hospital, and she can't pay for their separation surgery I will give you a call.
Me: Great! I have always wanted to be financially responsible for once conjoined, illegitimate, Meth-addicted twins! Where will you and Leroy be while I change diapers? I hear Mexico is nice and you could get there on one convenience store robbery.
Lexy: Well, his probation officer has a nice two person bike that we can pick up in Cali, but we have to find a way to get it over the fence. But, until then we are using his scooter. One Rite-Aid and a 7/11 ought to do it.

Ahhhh...it's fun to have a little sister.

Attack of the Frankenhand

I was supposed to have surgery on my hand a few weeks ago to remove a cyst. A couple of days before I was set to have it cut out the damn thing disappeared. I called to cancel and the nurse said I should come in as scheduled because it was probably just hiding. Hiding? Like - a sneaky crawl back into my joint so we would be lulled into a false sense of security while it hatched an evil plan to take over the world hiding? Or - comfortable in it's little home and scared of being evicted hiding? The nurse wasn't sure so I said ok and kept my appointment. I showed up, got dressed in my tent-sized hospital gown (could they possibly make those things any uglier?), got my IV and a brilliant concoction of drugs and was all ready to get hacked on. Then the doctor decided not to go through with it because he said I probably burst it. Burst? Ack. And ewww.

Fast forward two weeks and the stupid cyst comes back. Clearly not burst, but seriously pissed and, based on the pain level, implementing stage one of it's take over the world plan. This last Tuesday I went through the whole gown, IV, drug scenario again. The upside is the doctor actually removed it this time.

Did I mention that Tuesday was my birthday? One of my brilliant, though slightly twisted friends, imformed me that it was the best present EVER because I got legal drugs. Now it is a full week later and I am finally able to type. I am also off my pain meds and have replaced that fun, floaty, druggy feeling with really uncomfortable stitches. Whee. And - because I love you all - I will share with you a picture of my Frankenhand...

It has been slow on the blogging front because of the dreaded Frankenhand. Not only is it the ugliest freakin' thing you've ever seen, but it made typing virtually impossible and more than a little painful any time I tried. Basically, I spent a week half asleep on the couch watching lots and lots of Ice Road Truckers and Axe Men. At one point I had a drug induced hallucination that I was hauling cut down trees down the ice road to a diamond mine to be processed in to 2x4s. I KNOW! Trippy! --- Fun....but trippy. --- Thank you History Channel. I have now pledged my undying devotion to you and your programming.

We also had a little plumbing issue in the last few days. The sink must have been sneaking some of my drugs because it suddenly decided that water? Should spray up rather than down. I think that if the sink had a voice it would have been shouting something along the lines of, "Fly be free! Shed those binds and spray in ALL directions because you can! You can! Believe in yourself and you can spray the ceiling! Just believe you little droplets!" And, oddly, the sink sounds surprisingly like Richard Simmons from his Sweatin' to the Oldies days.

That led to father/son sink fixing. Seriously? The two cutest plumbers on. the. planet. See?


They were so proud of themselves I had to pause Tougher in Alaska(damn you History Channel and your freakishly absorbing reality television with lots and lots of burly manly men!) to bake them brownies. You couldn't resist these faces either.



I must say for the record - it never ceases to amaze me what Eric is able to accomplish. We had been together for over two years and we were standing in the kitchen talking about something that I totally forgot by now and he calmly picked up three oranges and started juggling. JUGGLING! Blew my freakin' mind. Add to that the fact that he is a freakin' electronics genius and can fix anything in the house that has electronic stuff in it and NOW I find out he can fix plumbing? Stand back ladies...he's mine and I won't go down without a fight.

He is for rent, however.

I could really use the extra cash.

If a bear shits in the woods can I shoot somebody?

What a crazy few weeks. The whole house has been in chaos and I am in serious need of a long vacation. I am thinking someplace warm, but not too warm where everyone is deaf and mute so that it is quiet. I can just make a few flashcards that say things like, "Another martini please," and "Sunscreen on my back please," and "Move the umbrella two inches to the left," and maybe a couple of others like, "Honey, you should really cover that up," just so I can give my inner bitch an outlet.

Last weekend the bulb went out on the tv downstairs so we have been without tv in the living room for over a week. You would think it would make for a quieter house.

You would be wrong.

It got louder here because Drew was no longer mesmerized for a while before dinner by cartoons and instead was running CIRCLES around the house with Mazie chasing him. Drew was screaming. Mazie was barking. The phone was ringing. Eric was shouting. Even the fish were loud. Little fish faces pressed against the glass, mouths open, crazed look in their eyes and scream bubbles just streaming towards the surface. I SWEAR I heard little squeaks each time one of those bubbles popped. Little bastards. Everyone's a freakin' comedian.

Today was better. I had my 2-year performance evaluation and it went well. I got a raise which was nice. We also got our tv fixed and Eric is getting to watch Game 5 of the Stanley Cup finals and so he is happy. He is currently yelling at the players and thus ensuring peak performance by the Penguins. They are playing pretty good so maybe it's actually working. If they win we may be onto something.

My master plan is to go to bed. Soon. Very soon. Right after I finish another glass of wine. I took tomorrow off and therefore I don't feel so bad about having another glass. Well, I never feel bad about having another glass regardless of the day, but not having to be coherent in the morning is a good thing. Instead of going to work I get to stay home and dig a hole.

Not the "doesn't know when to shut up" kind of hole I normally dig, but an actual hole. Outside. In the yard. For a tree. It is a big tree and it was a beautiful and leafy at the nursery and I was all filled with glee when I picked it and then I was informed of the size of the hole we have to dig. I suppose it could be a good thing because it will be just the right size to bury me in when I die from having to dig it.

We also have 3 yards of dirt to move from the driveway to the side of the house because we are building a new planting area in place of the flooded, mossy grass we currently have there. The displaced mosquitos will be pissed. I have to give a quick shout out to POWER ENTERPRISES in BOISE, IDAHO ---- they are hands down the WORST landscaping company on the face of the planet. No matter how many times we called them and gave them irrefuteable proof of their incredibly dysfunctional work we could not get them to fix it. Now we very proudly tell everyone we meet what a terrible job they do while we repair it slowly and expensively. THANKS CRAPPY LANDSCAPING COMPANY!! We heart you! Bastards.

OH!!! I just remembered! Eric and I played paintball on Saturday with a bunch of friends. It. Was. Awesome. We came home sweaty and dirty and bruised and already plotting all the gear we need to buy. I have not had that much fun in ages. We were out in this old orchard crawling around under trees and through the dirt stalking each other. I got shot in the head, the back, the hand, the arms, the legs and I got to shoot other people and I FREAKING LOVED EVERY SECOND OF IT! Next time I'll take the camera and take pictures for you. I have some gnarly bruises!

Oh yeah - I think I may have a homicidal streak. I think I enjoyed shooting people too much. Hmmmm...that might mean something important, but I can't for the life of me think of what that might be...