Just do something and see what happens.

This is my latest motivational phrase. "Just do something and see what happens." I've got several of them on the wall above my computer. I came across this one in a book about living to your true potential, or finding your joy, or something like that. The point is: keep moving, keep doing, keep going.

Things are slowing down at Creative HQ. Seems like creativity is on its summer break but no one told the teacher. Something else will come around. I know. Just breath deeply. Do something and see what happens.

I'm writing an article on marketing for small businesses. Don't have a place to publish it just yet. Details. Details. The idea came to me the other day over lunch... as a small biz, I need help with certain things that aren't my "core strengths" so I'm sure that there are other small to medium sized businesses that need the same. We'll see what happens.

My small biz roundtable idea hasn't gotten anywhere. I sent it to the board president of my women's group. Haven't heard anything back about it. So, I'm running for the board. Yup. I'm also following up with the president to see where that's going. We'll see what happens.

I attended an orientation workshop for the Tri For The Cure today. Figured out that I could use a new bike. Trouble is, we have limited funds since the Q2 taxes are due soon. Instead of moaning about it, we're selling our seldom used guest room mattress set on craigslist.org. Now I just have to uncover it from the donations piled on top to take a picture. It won't be much, but it will go to my bike fund and clear some crap from the house. We want to turn the guest room into a hobby room/game room. We'll see what happens.

Also, if we sell the guest room bed, we can't have visitors from, say, people who say that they want a place to stay for awhile but really want to mooch off of you forever. Or from people you may be related to by marriage who say mean things about you and treat you like ass. The downside is that people we do want to have come stay with us will now have to sleep on an air mattress or couch (we've got some great camping mats!). We'll see what happens.

So you try it this week. Just do something and see what happens.

back, burnt, and chapped

(The most flattering picture of me in Vegas.)

We're back from our Las Vegas-Road Trip-Camping-Extravaganza. If that sounds like a weird mix, it really is. Last Saturday we loaded up Russell and drove and drove and drove all day and part of the night to LV. There we were entertained by hubby's parents with golfing, swimming, several butt expanding buffets, booze and slots. Lots o' slots. Ting-ling, ting-ling, ting-ling. Hubby's mom is quite the gambler, and she wanted to show us all the new casinos. If you ask me, they all look and sound the same, but we went along for the sake of when in Vegas... The hounds we fairly good, but there was an incident with a door scratched by two excited pups. The next day we put them in doggy day care and had their nails clipped. It seemed to help a wee bit.



On Wednesday morning, we headed out from the neon metropolis to take the scenic route home. First stop, Zion National Park. There's a reason Zion is called that. It is, in a word, unfuckingbelievablybeautiful. Before entering the park, we stopped a darling fruit store/stand with picnic tables, large trees and home make breads for sale.



But the campgrounds were full and the day was young, so onward into Utah we drove. We camped in Red Canyon... in 32 degree comfort. Then drove to Bryce Canyon. Then the middle of nowhere for several hundred miles. Quick stop in Kodachrome State Park where hubby just couldn't stop taking pictures of this:


I don't know why.

Then Escalante canyons. More middle of nowhere for several more hundred miles. Capital Reef National Park. Then, pause, take a breath... camping in Glen Canyon on the Colorado River with 3 other human beings.

Where we watched the sun set feeling like the last two people on Earth.


And the moon rise. Blurry, but you get the idea.


Not to be undone, we made an appearance at Natural Bridges NP, which, if you saw the news, has an outbreak of the bubonic plague. Who needs souvenirs when you've got the plague? Hundreds of desolate highway miles later, we swung around the 4 Corners, snapped a shot with the hounds and moved into Colorado again.



Climbing into the San Juans, we camped in the most beautiful and nearly empty campground near Vallacito Reservoir.


We stopped for breakfast the next morning in Pagosa Springs at a little bakery worth revisiting. Then we climbed over Wolf Creek Pass and down again into the San Luis Valley. A quick stop at the Great Sand Dunes and we were officially pooped.



And sun burned. And chapped. And in need of a shower. Stat. We were also out of scenic route and back on the Interstate.

It's a strange feeling, going from pure isolation, slow moving byways, small towns, dramatic views, to rushed and hurried, stale, chain stores that look like everywhere else. When we woke up in Glen Canyon, the sun was cresting a wall of red rock, casting purple shadows on the ground and canyons in front of us. The lazy Colorado kept going, unaware of the beauty it created a gazillion years ago. There were three other people with us in the canyon, we knew we were there, but we couldn't see each other. It was if hubby, the dogs and I were the only life in the canyon that morning. When I see this beautiful gift the Earth gives us, I can't help but shake my head in disbelief on how we treat it in return.

3:17 am

Hound #1 was up all night having a severe allergic reaction to something. What, we will never know. Ninety bucks and a vet visit later (we got off easy) he's sleeping like a, well, a dog. Mom and dad are not. I got up at 3:17 this morning because I couldn't take the scratching and jumping around and rolling on the floor. By the hound, not the hubby. By 3:20 I was on the Internets looking up what the hell could be wrong with him. At 3:26 I decided to give him a bath thinking whatever it was that was bothering him might be washed off. It seemed to tide things over because at 4:18 he finally fell asleep. The alarm went off at 6 am.

I can't think very clearly at 3:17 am. At that time of night (morning?) my brain is in full REM state, dreaming dreamy thoughts about flying naked and remembering what my high school locker combo is so I can get to class. So when I found myself awake at 12:38, 1:20, 2:15, and up at 3:17 am, my thoughts stayed simple, pure. Mostly they revolved around what I had in the house that could make him stop scratching. Aloe Vera? Doesn't go well with fur. Benedryl? Hmm, the drug interaction with his phenobarbital might cause death. (which I've since learned is false for dogs - word to the wise, don't trust the Internets at 3:17 am)

But there was this small part of my brain that lingered to the List of Things To Be Done. Ahhh, the List. Ever growing. Ever listy. This morning it was finish two projects. Design the invite for the beagle picnic. Send friends wedding save the date to print. Apply to be on board of directors for non-profit. Slow down. Do one thing at a time. Where's the dog shampoo? Finish ad for directory. Return phone calls. How come we never have enough towels at 3:17 am? Make a list of camping gear for next week. Buy a cargo holder for camping. Order more Maxalt. Call your brother. Does one really need an iPod? RSVP for golf tournament.

And so on.

He got a second bath in a very special shampoo and creme rinse (a conditioner for dogs? I'm in the wrong biz) later this am. The vet is putting him on fish oil for the rest of his furry life. Greeeeeat. One more for the List of Things To Be Done.