Getting Back into the Shimmy of Things Part II

What a wonderful weekend it was! The day... I mean the DAY was finally here. I took it as a sign that the weather wasn't too pleasing. It was a rainy, dreary day which knocked that little hope to ride right out of my noggin. Riding when I should be practicing my belly dance songs probably wouldn't have been the best idea, but would have been completely inline with my standard operating procedures. The day included an extra cardio session...not like that would help me wiggle into my costume- but, at least I was all stretched and ready to go. Yup, yup, I'm ready. Let's go,let's go!

Of course, when I'm finally ready to do something time goes by slowly. Not ready to do something and time's gone like water in a waterfall. Swoosh! Gone! Not ready to take a test, why, "Hello test day. Where did you come from?!?" I'm ready, and time is gone like dripping out of a water faucet where the water supply has been shut off. Dri.........P................................................ddddddddddddddddrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr...iP. Since I had decided that eating after a certain time would be a bad idea (doing belly rolls on a full stomach isn't pleasant), it made the dri..........P process torturous.

I did my make-up early since I had a dream that I didn't have time to put on my make-up before leaving for the gig and that made my mask look a little silly. Mr. Beer baseball cap and some Sophia Loren style sunglasses in place so the rain wouldn't ruin my 5 minutes of eye shadow work while feeding horses and running from a mad rooster. Who gave that guy the Godzilla video?

Our designated driver came to pick us up scratching his head when I greeted him in a thick bath robe and a beach bag. No questions were asked, but I answered the quizzical look with "I'm going casual." To our surprise we found a great parking spot right out front of the establishment where the Fasching party was hosted. I put on the rest of my costume in the car before entering. Pulling my robe extra tight. I don't believe I really gave an idea of what Fasching is in my last post. Fasching is the German version of Mardi Gras. Before I go any further, I'd like to say that the ladies who took time out of their busy schedules and organized this event did a stellar job! All the people who participated also did an amazing job. It was fun all around, and I'm so happy to have been a part of it. Thank you!

The skits were a hoot! We had a few ladies do verbal skits typical for the main Fasching areas in Germany. One of them was fine tuned for Lawton specifically. Basically babbling/ranting combined. Very well done. We also had our own Dancing with the Stars skit. It was a tango...pig style. The pig costumes were super cute. It was almost my time to get up on stage so I went to the back, put on my mask and when my intro music came. I jiggled out where everyone could see me in all my bathrobe glory and dismantled. Like BAM! Watch me shimmy. I think the ladies who had to watch me fool around in my pink-laced combat shoes let out a sigh of relief. All those hip figure eights on Blueberry paid off. Yes, I incorporated figure eights into my swerving/tire warm ups. It's all in the hips, baby. After 8 minutes of shimmying, I shimmied off the super hot stage sweat dripping down my hard make-up work. 5 minutes of make-up work in my world is a LONG time. And, a test of my patience. There was another verbal skit of simple Gisela, a farmer's wife. And, then came the crown jewel of the event.

Heavy metal music came blaring, and six men came in wearing trench coats, combat boots, beanie caps,...and pink bandanas. With their backs to the audience, the music changed. As Joe Cocker's You Can Leave Your Hat On came out of the speakers, the shoes came off. The bandanas dropped to the floor. The hats came off (contrary to the song, I know). Hips were wiggled, and the trench coats started coming off. The hysteria in the audience was high. All the ladies were excited. The men probably uncomfortable. And then... there were six brave men standing on stage in white tights and tutus. Tchaikovsky's Swan Lake started playing and off they were -the men, not the fluffy pink tutus. They went up in white-socked tiptoes and scooted forward and scooted back. They twirled, they smiled, and they continued on. The audience went wild with laughter. Pandemonium was near. The guy who was lifted had the cutest, most appropriate tutu matching little wings glued to his shirt. The fanned butt slap, first one way then the other, had quite the impact. Literally. The guys did an AMAZING job with their skit! After seeing rehearsals so many times and spending the first one doing nothing but laughing for an hour, you'd think the skit would lose a little of its amusement. Nope, not one ounce was lost. The music changed again, and oriental music floated out of the speakers. Shirts were rolled up and bellies popped out. I shimmied back out and we did a little impromptu belly dance session. I had told the guys in advance not to worry and just follow my lead. Awesome, helpful instructions, no? Those guys probably wondered how they'd been wrangled into the skit by some crazy German ladies. We're that awesome. We can convince anyone that they want to do something a little unconventional.Then again, they probably wondered that during rehearsals when we went through plies, spins, graceful arms, lifts, leaps, and spirit fingers. Not to mention the "open leg" issues we had. "Offene Beine, Jungs!" which was often shouted by the choreographer ("Open legs, boys!").  That alone produced 10 minutes of laughter from the rest of the Fasching crew. Ballet is all about open legs...or so we were told.  

After the skits were over, the beer continued to flow and the music kept going. There was dancing and just good conversation. Even I danced; the person who is creeped out by partner dancing. I'm not even good for a waltz, and don't even get me started on that bump-and-grind junk they do at some clubs. I danced with one of the ballerinas. I've never danced with a ballerina before. I also did the wobble for the first time ever...It'd be nice if I could push that on alcohol consumption. I ended up driving our designated driver home. I don't think that's how the DD job usually goes.

After a couple hours of sleep, I enjoyed my coffee and got ready for a ride/hike. The weather was amazing. Absolutely perfect for a ride and hike. Other than buffalo tracks in odd places and signs of wild hogs we didn't see any wildlife. I once again heard the comments of "not being able to, in my right mind, call what we are doing hiking." They'll have to take that up with the complaint department which works ungodly hours, so actually getting that complaint taken care of may be a little tricky. By the time I got home, the weekend had caught up with me and I was cooked like stick a fork in me done.

Of course, of all nights I had issues with my camera, it was Fasching night. A few pictures can be found on WGR Facebook album and I will also try to post an excerpt of my skit. Going to start choreographing a couple of songs for next year's Fasching. Helauuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu!

Getting Back into the Shimmy of Things Part I

Some crazy person volunteered to do a belly dance skit at an event known to the Germans as Fasching. Some of my friends got together, sat down, and did an amazing job organizing this event. I mean, it's about time! Lawton, OK has over 5,000 Germans of which I am one...halfsie.

So it's been a couple years, nine years to be exact, since I've belly danced for an audience. In my years of being a solo artist (lazy may be a more accurate description), I mainly focused on doing drills of all the basic moves so my foundation is solid. However, playing around and choreographing some songs would have been a great idea. Hind sight, right? I forgot just how much work is behind pulling off a well-danced song. 

As I figured out how to finally get my belly dance cds loaded onto my computer (rip cd, go figure- it only took 9 years...), I realized just how much belly dance music I had. Jeez, and I used to complain that I had nothing. After picking two songs for the event two weeks prior to my performance, I had no choice but to go in belly dance overdrive. I shimmied my way through the halls of school, rib-slid at traffic lights on Blueberry (where's a tip jar when ya need one?), and snake-armed in the barn. I've now listened to my planned songs so often that it feels like someone welded them into my head with a blowtorch. I was tempted a day before music drop-off to change my songs. Very tempted. But, I thought that money-ransom picker-uppers are usually not happy when money isn't delivered. Who knows how German music picker-uppers are when no music is dropped off? Personally, I didn't want to find out through experience.

I was also undecided about the costume I should wear. I got a mask thinking I wouldn't have to worry about makeup. I assumed wrong. I, surprisingly, still fit into all of my costumes from many moons ago which didn't help eliminate choices. Okay, barely fit, but that's not the point. Cabaret or Tribal? Mix and match? It's Fasching, after all; it's supposed to be a little off the rocker. What to do, what to do?

Music drop-off came and went. I stuck to my songs wondering about my choices. The DJ then got a hold of me to tell me that even with his awesome system he could not for the life of him get one of my songs to play. I had even gone through the unnatural (for me) step of testing the cd to make sure it worked. If that wasn't a sign falling in my lap, then I wouldn't recognize a mountain landing on my head. Yup, my opportunity to switch songs just floated by and you can bet your cotton that I grabbed it.

The only thing really missing from my preparation was choreography. Good thing I've always been a firm believer in a wing-it philosophy. 

Six days 'til the event. It was the fourth and final preparation for the event. It was almost a gorgeous day, so I wore my summer jacket with light layers underneath. Turned out to be a not so gorgeous day five miles into my ride. Oh well, a baseball bat couldn't have knocked the smile from my face. Boy, do I get a joy out of riding. Hugging Blueberry the best I could, I arrived at the semi-dress rehearsal semi-luke warm. I did not bring my costume, and I did not really belly dance. Those poor women probably regretted assigning me a skit after my kind of belly dance performance in jeans and pink-laced combat boots.My plan at that moment (besides laziness) was to have the element of surprise in my favor. To be continued...

Hiking Bootcamp

Since the weathermen predicted a gorgeous weekend, I pulled out my best salesperson skills and pitched the awesomeness Oklahoma's hiking adventures has to offer. A couple people showed interested in going on Saturday; the same guys who probably thought I was trying to kill them on the last hike (Eagle Mountain). It turns out that when most people hear "hike," they understand something different from what I consider a hike. I've learned this early on, so to make the decoding process easier and more accurate, I usually offer the explanation that hiking means no trails, lots of climbing, and potentially some low-crawling. Oh yeah, and amazing views! They bailed on me. On Friday, I was able to convince some others to go on Sunday. After the Sunday plans were made, I even managed to sweet-talk the bailees into going. Plus two unsuspecting victims. They later suggested that I should add blisters and muscle soreness into my decoding help. But, I just don't think that's a great way to convince people to go.

Sunday rolls around, and, wouldn't you know it, the weathermen had actually predicted accurately. I guess that is possible once in a while, or maybe it was just a lucky chance happening. Either way, I pulled my Ballistic pants over my hiking jeans and rode out to the visitor center on the Wildlife Refuge. I have to say that the ride all the way to the hiking spot was one of the best rides through the refuge in a long time. On the way to the visitor center I passed through many herds of longhorn. Everyone and everything seemed to be enjoying an awesome chillaxin' Sunday morning. Arriving early, I seriously thought about getting gas since I was really starting to run low. Laziness won, and Blueberry and I stayed put. Eventually, I wasn't waiting alone; four of the guys had shown up. Just before we decided to leave, one rider pulls in. After turning on the road heading to headquarters, the last rider joins us. Impeccable timing, if I do say so myself. We saw all kinds of coolness. Buffalo were chilling on the road in many spots. I slowly cruised through as quietly as I could. Had an elk run out in front of me, too. I slowed down because I figured there were more. A few seconds later, a huge elk with a gigantic rack runs out to join the others on the side of the road. He was an amazing sight. Saw some deer on the side of the road, too. I was surprised that they didn't run out over the road. The only animal we didn't see on the road that morning was turkey.

The hike was a blast. We didn't do a big round, but enough for the suggestion that I should offer a hiking bootcamp. Now, there's an awesome idea! I think it was meant more as a dig and came from a decoding process gone haywire.

Victim Hiker #1:"I thought we were going on an easy hike!" 
Me: "This is an easy hike."
Hiker #1:"My foot!"
Hiker #2:" On a scale of 1 to 5, 5 being the hardest, how would you rate this hike?"
Me:" A solid 2."
Hiker #2:" The hike the other guys went on last time?"
Me:"Three. It would have been a 3.5 if we'd scurried up the other side of the Narrows."
Hiker #1 and #2:"You're crazy!"
Me:"I have yet to be diagnosed."
  
Our group divided into three groups. One group stayed back, and the other two split up half-way up the mountain to take different routes to the top. We ran into a buffalo half-way up (and half-way down), I managed to get stuck in a little opening (I was,however, determined to get out the way I wanted), we didn't run into any hiding serial killers or angry wild hogs, didn't run into any treasure hunters looking for Jesse James' loot or the Spanish Gold (people are so unadventurous these days),and I had a porcupine scare the living daylights out of me. Yes, I saw a porcupine! Those who made it to the top ended up saying that the hell I put them through was worth it just for the view. I even got asked when we'd be going again. Who'da thunk that?

After a greasy cheese burger, Blueberry and I actually made it home with the little fuel we had left. Figured we'd baby it to a gas station another day. Pictures can be found on Facebook album.
This blog is brought to you by the lovely (biased opinion, we know) Stone Turtle – Lodging, a small family owned and operated hotel / lodging business near Lawton, Oklahoma, Fort Sill,  the Wichita Mountains Wildlife Refuge, Meers and Medicine Park. Yeah, that’s right we’re a small lodging business close to all the awesomeness Oklahoma has to offer!!

An Impromptu Ride

On Friday I met up with a rider who's always nice enough to let me know when he's riding. He even has this habit of asking if I want to join (imagine that). So after the "Are we riding?" question, we decided to meet up in an hour. When I get there, his friend's already there waiting. Eventually after getting gas, lunch, and bs-ing with his friend, the other rider rolls in. First time I've not adhered to my 5 minute wait policy in years. If you're not there in 5 minutes, I won't be there either.

Awesome weather for a ride...if you were wearing synthetic gear. I was quite cozy in my Ballistic 5.0 pants with long underwear. That and winter riding gloves (how did I ever live without them!?!), and it's like riding in Florida sunshine even with the gusty gale common in Oklahoma. The windy city sure ain't got nothin' on us. We did a general 100-mile loop starting out in Meers to ride HWY 115 north. We did it just before they closed off HWY 115 to do whatever construction they're now doing. There goes my Meers and Saddle Mountain cemetery plans. 

I don't think my riding buddies had ever been on that road (not really explorers those two, but not everyone can have a job as an explorer like me). First corner comes up; I look in my mirror to see one of guys take it too wide. He reacted fast, straightened out his Harley, and did a little off-roading before rejoining us on the paved street. I'll admit, it was a pretty sweet save.We continued on- enjoying the weather, the scenery, and the ride. I love riding with people who ride to ride not to do moronic stuff. That last curve by Saddle Mountain is a doozy. It has an odd inclination and usually has grit or water on half of a lane. Creeped around that very slowly. Also, that last section (and I fear all of Hwy 115 may have the same fate) is only tightly packed gravel. I wouldn't be doing any track-style riding on it.

As we headed to Apache, I saw a lot of old barns I want to get on film. Some I've ridden by but were always hidden by trees. I love riding because I always notice something new. The Mobetta (mobetta than what, I always ask) building has long been transformed into a tanning salon in Apache. Because here in Oklahoma, we never see the sun... I think I'd rather get skin cancer from the sun than from whatever chemical reaction goes on in one of those weird booths. 

After Apache we went to Medicine Park because I had to go to the Post Office. Don't know why I didn't go in Apache. It's got to be that detour problem I have. While in Medicine Park I managed to convince the guys that they wanted to go hiking with me on Sunday since the others had bailed for the Saturday plans. I think I need to take some classes in guilt-tripping. 

The Day Before

My first ride in 2013 was not on January 1, 2013. Traditionally, I can be found cruising around on the first day of January every year; this year, however, it just did not work out. Many  factors pulled together to work against me. I guess beggars just can't be choosers. 

It was a gorgeous sunny day, and I had the opportunity to meet up with some climbers in the Wichita Mountains Wildlife Refuge. Who could resist to ride on a 39 degree windchill day? Not this rider who was suffering from major withdrawals. I had it timed perfectly. Or, so I thought. But it turns out that my gear/prep checklist took a tad longer than I thought. Mainly due to my brain being on standby. When I remembered I needed keys and went to go get them, I forgot what I wanted by the time I got to where I thought my keys had been. This happened a lot while getting my stuff together.

Checklist:

• backpack
• camera
• cell phone
• wallet
• hot tea
• water
• notebook
• book to read should I get there first
• upper body layer #1
• upper body layer #2
• upper body layer #3
• upper body layer #4
• upper body layer #5
• long underwear
• synthetic wind resistant pants
• jacket
• winter gloves
• 2 pairs of socks
• boots
• keys 
• scarf
• helmet 
• music player
• glasses so I can see stuff

Yes, I make winter riding complicated. But, at least I'm warm and hydrated. I think what I love most about motorcycles is that every ride is an adventure. Cars are my fire breathing dragons.  Undecided squirrels are my strategy changing enemies. Perception really is everything. I love every moment, road, and tree I see while riding. 
So I got off to a later start than I thought. Since it had snowed, the road from Meers into the Refuge was covered in dirt, gravel, and other nasty stuff. Good thing my music was playing. Otherwise the cussing echoing in my helmet may have turned my ears red. I lost a little bit of time making my way down yucky gravely hell since my tires were cold.

I saw a lot of buffalo along the road in the Wichita Mountains. They have a whole 59,000 acre refuge to chill out on, and they pick the area along the road. As I approached the prairie dog town, there was this one buffalo rubbing his neck on an open gate onto the restricted area. He was slightly surprised when Blueberry's exhaust caught up with him. So surprised that he freaked out and stormed off to the other buffalo who then proceeded to freakout. Yes, Blueberry and I actually started a small stampede. I was very tempted to get off my bike and dig out the camera, but I thought stopping in the middle of a buffalo stampede might not be such a good idea. I would like to avoid using the phrase "It seemed like a good idea at the time."

I, therefore, continued on my way. Shortly before the turnoff to the Sunset picnic area, I came across a flock of turkey. I turned around, put Blue in neutral, pulled the gloves off my frozen fingers, shimmied the backpack off my heavily layered upper body and dug for my camera. The Refuge cop probably thought I was having a fit of insanity as I was prancing around trying to get the feeling back in my toes and fingers. 

They were a pretty cool bunch. Didn't have a lot to say, though.

 When I finally made it to the parking lot, the car I was looking for was already there. I hadn't been to this parking lot in years since, next to Mt. Scott, it's a tourist trap. There was still one parking spot left. Now, I had no idea where Echo Dome was (and still do not know) other than it can be found in Charon's Garden. I assumed it was to be reached from the trail going around on the west side of Elk Mountain. I packed my stuff and started on the trail. It wasn't long before I came across a huge longhorn on the trail. Usually, I'm not worried about large animals on trails, but not being properly dressed to run from a longhorn kept me at bay. I decided I'd turn around and get some more miles under my belt. 

When I got back to the parking lot, I pulled out my notebook and wrote a note for the climbers. As I was looking for a place to stash it, I found the note they had left for me. Figures that I'd see it too late.

On my way over to Little Baldy, I saw some buffalo playing or fighting. I was brave enough to pull over and watch them for a bit. They calmed down and then started up again which is when I thought it best to leave. I do believe a buffalo would win in a buffalo vs. bike battle. Especially when the rider still has to put up a camera and pull on gloves.

 As I headed towards Cache, I eventually realized that I was singing off key in my helmet which is also when I realized that my music had disappeared and my mp3 player had turned itself off. By the time I reached Lawton, the resistant part of my pants decided to stop working and it got very cold very fast. So I headed back to Meers. It really was a great day to ride, but the cold kept all but four riders (including myself) from enjoying it. I was surprised that I only saw one cruiser out and about since usually they're always out riding.

Cold Springs...sort of.

It was a cold, dreary January day. Not even the sun felt like making an appearance. It was a day to spend on the couch next to a warm fire while reading a book and sipping coffee out of a 44oz cup. That's the kind of day it was. Of course, one can spend a day reading any day. The opportunity to go out on a small adventure presented itself (and with a partner in crime, at that) so I thanked Serendipity and took it.

It's funny how when there's no rush and no specific plan that things just tend to work better than when a lot of planning is put into a trip. We left Stone Turtle Ranch at leisure and no designated time. Blueberry, unfortunately, was left in the warm garage. I can't expect Blueberry to always want to go ride when I do. Vain of me, isn't it?

I thought it couldn't hurt to swing over to the Narrows in the Wichita Mountains Wildlife refuge since I had a hunch the climbers I missed yesterday may try their luck there if they hadn't frozen to their sleeping bags the night before. I, of course, had to stop (yes, again) to take some pictures of some buffalo relaxing along the side of the road into the Narrows. As we approach the parking area, I spot the bright yellow car I left a note on yesterday. Was my hunch dead-on or what? I think I've still got some intuitions to gain before I apply to a sleuthing school. And, wouldn't you know, Serendipity was still with me because just as we got closer to the car, one of the climbers came back to his car. We had managed to catch them just as they started out to find the trail.

Since Serendipity had been so kind to me today, I had absolutely no concerns about being able to take the time to share the beauty of my stomping grounds with the climbers. Since my adventurous partner in crime had no qualms with taking a short spontaneous walk into the Narrows, off we went. I was a little surprised to find the water in West Cache Creek was still frozen. Had I known, I could have brought some ice skates since Lawton is not up to speed when it comes to winter activities.We let the climbers start climbing and started on our way back to the car. Not much was seen on the way out of the refuge, just the three buffalo who I captured on film. Because captured on SD card just doesn't  sound as good.

The general idea was to find a little abandoned mining town called Cold Springs. But, since Roosevelt and Mountain Park were in that area, we were in a car, and Serendipity was being so good to us, we cruised the streets/junk yards.  Roosevelt is filled with junk yards. If you have a project vehicle and need parts, try going there. I'm sure you'll find what you need. The old Arts and Crafts building is crammed with bumpers, hoods, doors, etc. The old high school (built in 1930) across the street from the Arts and Crafts building is surprisingly big for a rural school built in 1930. Found the old, old school house, too. We found a small cafe which was currently open and closed. Both signs were hanging in the window. Since there were no lights, we figured it was currently using the closed sign. I thought I had a post with some Roosevelt/Mt. Park history, but I couldn't find anything. So look back for another post soon!

Found at Roosevelt's bar.

After checking out Roosevelt's Cemetery and driving by a haunted house (or so it was labeled), we made our way south. I was very excited to go looking for Cold Springs along the north shore of Tom Steed Reservoir. Now, I'll admit some of my appeal for Cold Springs comes from the legend that the stolen loot of a stage coach headed to Fort Sill circa 1885 is rumored to be buried on the banks of Otter Creek. I counted county roads utterly confused when 1530 came after 2320 only to find out that Cold Springs has a gigantic sign along the highway. We turned onto the dirt road and started driving towards the reservoir. There's a tiny community back there and no more signs to be found. There was a road crossing over the railroad in two spots, but since someone forgot to bring a map, we weren't sure if that was a good idea since two locals had just ambled back over the tracks. I always think that in places like Roosevelt and the country surrounding it, they'd never find the bodies. Keeps me from places I probably shouldn't be exploring...sometimes. Since we were running out of daylight hours, we called it good for the day, and started looking for the Gold Belle Mine. 

The remnants of the old mine are right off the highway and easy to find if you're driving north on HWY 183. As far as I was able to find, this smelter was part of an illegal miner camp, Wildman, established in 1901 which was destroyed by Fort Sill's soldiers. The only things left to see of the cyanide ore mill (which never processed ore) are the cooling tower and the concrete foundations. It looks to be the local hangout judging by the trash at the bottom of the old cooling tower. 

After efficiently braking for the first historical marker once I had the notion I wanted to see the marker, I had my buddy holding on to the handle next to the passenger seat for the rest of the ride along with the comment "Jesus! You need a bumper sticker that reads I brake for historical markers." Well, I think I need a bumper sticker that reads I randomly decide to brake for weird things whenever I please.

Before turning around, we cruised through the six or so streets that make up Mountain Park. They have a post office, a bank, a small park, and a closed cafe (surprise, surprise). Mountain Park never experienced the glory it could have since the guy who was supposed to sell his land to the railroad back in the day thought he could get more than $6,000 and demanded more money. The railroad altered its plans, left Mountain Park in the dust, and made Snyder fit into the plan instead. All but seven of the businesses which had been established in Mountain Park then moved to Snyder. A lesson about the effects of greed.

For pictures from this adventure please check out the Facebook album.
This blog is brought to you by the lovely (biased opinion, we know) Stone Turtle – Lodging, a small family owned and operated hotel / lodging business near Lawton, Oklahoma, Fort Sill,  the Wichita Mountains Wildlife Refuge, Meers and Medicine Park. Yeah, that’s right we’re a small lodging business close to all the awesomeness Oklahoma has to offer!!

Thought I'd share the lovely Oklahoma sunset with my lovely blog viewers:

On a side note, I'm painting the farm blue. Bringing a touch of Santa Fe to Stone Turtle Ranch.

 This blog is brought to you by the lovely (biased opinion, we know) Stone Turtle – Lodging, a small family owned and operated hotel / lodging business near Lawton, Oklahoma, Fort Sill,  the Wichita Mountains Wildlife Refuge, Meers and Medicine Park. Yeah, that’s right we’re a small lodging business close to all the awesomeness Oklahoma has to offer!!

Back to Fast Charlie and the Moonbeam Rider

You won't find any pictures of Blueberry on today's post since I'm feeling a tad bit guilty; I dreamt of another bike. A sexy chopper to be exact.

Okay, I really need to watch that movie before I mention it again.Yes, I went back to where the beginning of the movie was filmed, Faxon. I don't always drive to Faxon....But, when I do... Okay enough play on those Most Interesting Man of the World memes. A couple of uncertain left and right turns got me out to the old school. Uncertain, only because I didn't know where I wanted to go. My navigation instinct is still in fine form. Woman's intuition, right? The school was up and running in 1902 and just recently closed. Okay, 1995 may not be as recent as I keep thinking it is. The old school bell can be found in front of the post office in Faxon (so I've heard). I have yet to find the post office. Next time.

On the way back to the highway, we pass this old couple sitting out in their yard enjoying the sunshine of an 80-degree December day. They waved kindly to two unknown bikers passing through their tiny little town on gravely road. Must say it was friendlier than when I cruised through Cooperton.

Growing up out in the country, cars you didn't know just didn't happen to drive by. It was either one of the very few neighbors or someone utterly lost. So, I usually expect a Cooperton welcome when I ride to small towns since I grew up suspicious of unknown vehicles drifting down the road (unless they waved, of course). But all that is changing now that suburbia is taking over my lovely idealistic country picture where you know your neighbors. May not like 'em  an' they may not like you, but toleration is do-able and expected. And, when your house is on fire, they still feel obligated to stop and help.

People want to move to the "country" but still have their neighborhoods (safety in numbers, I guess), yet they don't want to have neighbors. They don't want to wave, they don't want to look you in the eyes, they don't want to acknowledge you. No siree, Bob!  They just want to drive past you (ignoring you while you're waving nicely) and move your mailbox. But, enough about mailboxes. Thank God! You say. Where and what is your point? You wonder. Well, it got lost trying to find my mailbox!

So thank you, Faxon couple, for the nice wave and no dirty look.

From movie-famous Faxon, we rode to Chatty.Not as famous, but just as nice. The town looks to be ready for Christmas. Love small-towns which take pride in their town. Strolled  through the little park before getting back on the bikes to ride to Cache.

So riding back to Cache, I noticed this truck sitting in a field with the driver-side door open and the driver just chilling in his seat. What in the world? I thought. As I zoomed by a little more, I noticed he had his shotgun set up on a table. Does he seriously call that hunting? Sitting in his truck waiting for a deer to come eat corn while playing on his phone? Yes, it's amazing what one sees when one's not paying attention to the road.

Ended a lovely day in Medicine Park. The food and service at the Old Plantation were awful! However, the "river-walk" was lit up really nice, worth the evening drive to stroll along the creek.

Medicine Park, OK

This blog is brought to you by the lovely (biased opinion, we know) Stone Turtle – Lodging, a small family owned and operated hotel / lodging business near Lawton, Oklahoma, Fort Sill,  the Wichita Mountains Wildlife Refuge, Meers and Medicine Park. Yeah, that’s right we’re a small lodging business close to all the awesomeness Oklahoma has to offer!!

Another amazing day!

I just want to wish you all a wonderful Thanksgiving holiday!

Life is not one size fits all. So let’s not judge. For we each have our own obstacles to overcome and our own blessings to be thankful for.

It’s a shame that the spirit of giving and gratefulness has to be a holiday to remind some of us of these qualities. I hope that thankfulness and the joy of life remain with you all for quite sometime!

UHO

So someone, yes this now brunette rider, is trying to learn how to operate her new camera. Of course, Oklahoma sunsets provide ample practice material. The other day, as I was admiring the sunset while arguing with my touchscreen on the camera, I noticed something slightly odd high up in the colorful sky. It was a black solid object with some kind of black trailing of smoke or fuel. Now, I'd like to think that I'd be able to identify a helicopter. It certainly wasn't a plane because it didn't move. Therefore, I cannot justly name it a UFO. I observed it (how very James Bond of me, I know) for at least 30 minutes and it didn't budge. The binoculars didn't help either since I'm as blind as a bat without glasses (this shouldn't affect my credibility, should it?) and the binos and glasses just didn't want to get along. 

It didn't really look like a helicopter, even though that is what I'm hoping it was. I watched it until darkness surrounded the hovering object. No lights were seen. As I went to bed that night, I almost expected to have a horror movie-like experience with invading aliens...I watch way too many movies. But then again, my neighbor does swear that he was abducted by aliens many years ago. Now, I'd like to think that with all of our technology out in space, that aliens would have the sense that us Okies probably aren't the best folks to abduct if they want a proper sample of human life. I guess every specimen has their Barney Fifes.

When I woke up in the morning, with no unusual craving to have a Bud Light Lime, the UHO (unidentifiable hovering object- nice, eh?) was gone.

What is this? New Mexico?