{"id":43,"date":"2005-11-26T11:39:19","date_gmt":"2005-11-26T19:39:19","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/thedude.com\/~wendy\/?p=43"},"modified":"2008-12-13T11:53:05","modified_gmt":"2008-12-13T19:53:05","slug":"a-loaded-box-a-mule-named-rose-and-one-big-chicken-foot","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/wendy.thedude.com\/?p=43","title":{"rendered":"A Loaded Box, a Mule named Rose, and One Big Chicken Foot"},"content":{"rendered":"

So if someone asks you to join in a goofy game called Chicken Feet<\/strong>, just explain that you’re color-blind and you left your magnifying glass at home. http:\/\/www.pagat.com\/domino\/chicken.html<\/a> For the record, it’s a domino game for 20-20 eyesight players only, and anyone who can accurately tell azure from royal blue, and toffee tone from butterscotch. Yikes. These dominos have the teeniest-tiniest circles, the most obscure tints and shades, and a multitude of different dot groupings. Wow, it’s pretty hard for someone who can’t even read the newspaper or a prescription bottle without her specs. And don’t even think <\/em>about scattering the million plastic pieces on anything other than a plain white tablecloth; using a circa 1985 crazy print throw as a background will almost certainly send you straight to the optometrist. Although the official goal of the game is to produce a lifelike looking poultry foot by matching up colors, I found just retaining my sanity was worth a gold medal alone.<\/p>\n

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Luckily, this was only one of the many exciting activities I took part in on the 2nd Annual Hunter\/Greer\/Fagan Camp <\/strong>Huntington Sticky S’More Extravaganza.<\/strong> A scrappy game of Yahtzee was also played with great zest and fervor, amid martinis and bruschetta samplings. Now here’s a pastime that takes on a whole new meaning when you learn some educational barfly terms, especially from a professional like Cinderella. For example, a “boat” is a full house, and if you “load the box”, you’re returning the dice to the cup. So just remember, don’t rock the boat, and never, EVER<\/span>, under any circumstances load another player’s box \u2014 it’s just not right.<\/p>\n

Yes, it was a weekend full of crowd pleasing, bug-biting, cocktail-induced events, including a double whammy of a birthday party for Dot and Cinderella. Dorothy looked resplendent in her reggae-inspired party hat and “Living Fossil” button, and Kerry was channeling the Mad Hatter in her very large, very pointy, dunce-type cap that somehow remained perched precariously atop her noggin. Many scary shots of Tarantula http:\/\/www.internetwines.com\/pa34984.html <\/a>were consumed, giant vats of potato salad were laid to rest, juicy pink steaks gobbled up, and several pints of decadent ice cream were destroyed in the name of celebratory overload. It just doesn’t get any better.<\/p>\n

The Fagans – Ferd, Ffej and Hill, arrived at the campsite in their glorious vintage-cigar-tube-Silver-Bullet of an Airstream<\/strong> trailer, with its shag pillows, lime green and yellow interior, and a commode, which requires a stepladder for optimal use. I’m not sure it would be the wisest decision to try out this interesting feature in the dark, especially after the consumption of several smart beverages. http:\/\/www.airstream.com\/index.html<\/a> And speaking of swizzle sticks, I think a certain member of our wacky group may have ingested one too many tumblers of Scotch when she made the management decision to haul her entire wardrobe up the hill in gigantic Tupperware<\/em> containers. We’ve decided what Margaret needs is the biggest frickin’ duffel sack on the planet, with 47 pockets, 35 zippers, and 97 plastic Ziploc bags for all her lotions, bug spray, SAND HANITIZER<\/strong>, lipsticks, and foot powder! Wow. It may not be quite as “bear-friendly” as quarts and gallons of burped plastic, but at least it would be easier to haul in and out of a sleeping-bag-laden tent. In any event, the proprietress of the 6019 Club completely redeemed herself with the always delish and delightful “Ranch Breakfast”, with tons of potatoes, eggs, “snausages”, biscuits and enough cholesterol to sink a ship. YUM! <\/strong>And let’s not forget the yogurt fruit salad, pre-chow pastries, and bubbly Prosecco mimosas \u2014 burp \u2014http:\/\/www.wineloverspage.com\/italwineguide\/prosecco.phtml <\/a><\/p>\n

As it turns out, this foodage was the perfect way for us gals to get revved up for our horseback-riding activities, amid the pine trees and perky mountain blooms. So we saddled up at the D&F Pack Station<\/strong>, where the odiferous scent of pony manure combines with the nervous sweat of first-time riders. http:\/\/www.highsierrapackers.com\/<\/a> The hardworking cowpokes try to match you up with the appropriate animal, hoping the two of you will bond like peas and carrots, scampering down the wooded trail like Roy Rogers and his faithful steed Trigger. Um, maybe not. If you’re somebody like Jill the Bimbo, you get a spirited mule named Rose,<\/strong> with a temper as feisty as your own, a viewpoint as flippant as your own, and a problem with authority, just like your own. You get a mule that spits out bits, strays from the pack, kicks her heels, pulls sideways on the reins, and generally wreaks havoc on the rest of the mounted party. It became a will of two forces of evil, with Jill yelling at Rose, Rose ignoring Jill, Rose attempting to win the Kentucky Derby, Jill screaming at Rose, Rose invading everyone’s personal space, Jill threatening Rose, and Rose stubbornly tossing her head with a very Jill-like “don’t-even-go-there” attitude. The chorus to the Dixie Chicks’ “If I Fall<\/span>” kept playing thru my head like a war cry:<\/p>\n

If I fall you’re going down with me
\nYou’re going down with me baby if I fall
\nYou can’t take back every little chill you give me
\nYou’re going down with me baby heart and all ooh yeah<\/em><\/p><\/blockquote>\n

In the end, all the four-legged critters tended to have minds and gastric disorders of their own (no elaboration needed). Ferd, the most inexperienced of our bunch, ended up on “Gambler” \u2014 a horse who periodically acted as though the invisible crack of a whip had just landed on his rump. He bolted, the dust flew, and Ferd held on for dear life. Poor Hill was relegated to “Doc”, who not only had NO <\/em>interest in galloping at all, but also didn’t seem to realize OR<\/em> care that his frustrated and more experienced rider, in fact, DID<\/strong>. Cinderella took on “Badger”, who was probably well aware of the fact that he had a cowgirl in his saddle \u2014 mainly because she didn’t fall off and shriek in bonafide terror when he occasionally sprinted in Secretariat-like glee. And me? Well, let’s just say I had a mule that was so suited to my temperament, people couldn’t tell us apart \u2014 except for that whole tail thing. My “Bullwinkle” plodded along with his big bunny ears a floppin’, taking all the time in the world, and without a doubt, sensing that his companion was in no bigger of a hurry than himself.<\/p>\n

Now before I sign off, I think we owe a round of applause and great gratitude of thanks to Jill the Bimbo and her creative co-worker Ralphy<\/strong>, for our lovely and attractive signature hotel signs: “Danger \u2014 <\/strong>Flopping Fish Motel (long story),<\/strong> “Caution \u2014 Annie’s Animal House (no bones about it :-), <\/span>and “Warning \u2014 Hooter Crossing” (um, no comment).<\/em> And last but not least, Kerry’s mutt takes home both the “Best in Show”<\/em> and “Cowardly Lion” <\/em>awards. For showing amazing bravery on the campground battlefield while protecting his beloved Auntie Wendy from enemy canines, and for flying like a bat out of hell underneath the nearest table while thundershowers shook the skies. Boo dog, we salute you!<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

So if someone asks you to join in a goofy game called Chicken Feet, just explain that you’re color-blind and you left your magnifying glass at home. http:\/\/www.pagat.com\/domino\/chicken.html For the record, it’s a domino game for 20-20 eyesight players only, and anyone who can accurately tell azure from royal blue, and toffee tone from butterscotch….<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-43","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/wendy.thedude.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/43","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/wendy.thedude.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/wendy.thedude.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wendy.thedude.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wendy.thedude.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=43"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/wendy.thedude.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/43\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":51,"href":"https:\/\/wendy.thedude.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/43\/revisions\/51"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/wendy.thedude.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=43"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wendy.thedude.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=43"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wendy.thedude.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=43"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}