Coyote, 5K, Yaks, a Romantic Weekend

I think I solved last week’s sausage mystery. I no longer believe the hotel sausage is neither raccoon or prairie dog. It’s coyote!

The extended stay hotel/motel that I am staying at is in the heart of the shopping and Fortune 500 offices in the state capital. I can throw a baseball from the hotel parking lot to the parking lot of that giant blue building with the yellow letter signage. (OK, you caught me. It might take me four throws. My shoulder is over sixty years old.) By the way, I’m going to talk about Big Blue in a minute.

Anyway, before I lose focus, back to coyote sausage. Tuesday night, returning from the fitness center to the hotel, I pulled into the parking lot. I was greeted by a pretty good size coyote, just standing there looking at me. I had never been this close to a coyote before. You might be thinking it was probably a dog. Well, I have watched enough Road Runner cartoons to know a coyote when I see one. Strange enough, this one was walking on four legs and I didn’t see him carrying dynamite. Hmmm. (Sorry, I was losing focus?) Had this happened at home, I would have assumed the coyote was there to eat the chickens, the twins, Elaine or even Ivy. I would have had to take him out.

With my “razor” sharp mind, I quickly realized why the sausage could not be raccoon or prairie dog. The coyote was there to get those rodents before the chefs could. As the coyote finished the stare down and darted into the trees and bushes, I immediately started wondering, “Just what kind of sausage is that?”

The next morning, I was enjoying my oatmeal in the hotel cafeteria. The nighttime desk clerk was getting off work, being replaced by the daytime desk clerk. I noticed the nighttime clerk was wearing a jacket with a COYOTE collar. OK, I lost sight of the coyote. The next day a women is wearing coyote fur. The sausage looks fresh. I’m no genius, but I’m never eating sausage at that hotel again. (Actually, I’ve never been tested, but I score a PhD level on Spacebook quizzes.)

I have two, maybe three things we need to talk about.

The first on the list, Ivy and I ran another 5K race. This race was down by the reservoir. The course is up and down the hills around the water. After the race you have the option of jumping in the water, high-fiving a water rescue diver and paying thirty five dollars for the pleasure.

Ivy, Girl Twin, Elaine and I ran the race last year. Ivy and Girl Twin jumped in the water. Elaine and I decided the water was too cold. I could not convince Ivy and Girl Twin that they could jump in the water 50 yards down shore for free. I would be there to high-five them. I think we had an extra seventy dollars we needed to get rid of. (Sorry, lost focus. I was talking about this year’s race.)

Ivy improved her time over last year’s time. That’s all I’m going to say about her. I like to tell stories about me. Of course, Ivy will talk about her race if you ask her.

I ran the course almost four minute’s faster than I ran last year. I was extremely happy with my time. The happiness was short lived. I found out placed seventy-first out of seventy-seven runners in my age bracket. AND THEN, I found out that Ivy had placed me in the 30-39 age bracket. This is exactly the reason why I am not talking about Ivy in this story. She said it was a mistake. I think I heard Ivy telling her mother, “Dad’s ego is getting big, I’m going to take him down a notch!” Hey, I beat six guys in their 30’s. If one or more of you guys I beat would happen to read this story, I would like to shake your hand.

I’m going to combine the last two stories.

I asked Elaine to spend the weekend with me in the hotel. She gladly said it sounded like fun. I had big plans. I was hoping Elaine could help me identify the meat in the sausage. I wanted to spend the day at the Nation Western Stock Show. (I’ll get to that in a minute.) and I wanted to Elaine to hit some of the furniture stores (so I didn’t have to) we don’t have at home.

Backtracking, Elaine ate apples and cheese for breakfast, refusing to try the sausage.

I had big plans for the Stock Show. I had planned on purchasing a yak (or two). Yaks are perfect animals for the other portions of our lives. You can eat them, comb them for their SUPER soft hair, (which can be spun into yarn) milk them, ride them, you get the picture.

Immediately, at the stock show my plans fizzled. We had just purchased our tickets and Elaine said, “Don’t buy a yak, with you not being home, we can’t take care of it.”

Me: I’ve got it worked out with Boy Twin, he’s going to take care of it (them). Elaine: He won’t have time, with school. Let’s not get one. Me: You really don’t want me to get ONE?

Elaine was walking to the first booth at the trade show, which happened to be a furrier. “Oh, look”, she said, already in the booth. Elaine has been incorporating fur into her latest weavings. Elaine was really happy. Before I could blink, she was talking to the furrier, with furs in her hand. I heard the furrier say these are “Finnish raccoons.” You can probably guess what I was thinking. I heard Elaine say, “I’ll take three.” Three raccoons, zero yaks.

Elaine and I walked down to see the yaks. I did not see any of the old yak breeders I had done business with in the past. There were plenty of new ones. I know where to find them when Elaine tells me I can get a new yak (or two). I’m telling Boy Twin it was Grandma's fault we don’t have new yaks. And I’m telling him we have three dead raccoons (minus the meat) in Grandma's bag.

Before we headed to the stock show we drove around for one (seemed like six) hour looking for a restaurant that served blueberry blintzes for Elaine. We found the restaurant we were looking for, sadly blintzes came off the menu in the late 80’s.

We did get to furniture shop. After about seventy -five stores, highlighted by a trip to the Big Blue Store, with the European crap with the names no one can pronounce, (Buy local.) we gave up looking for furniture. Not until, we serpentined through the Big Blue store until even those (construction language) meatballs looked good, did Elaine give up. She was on a mission. When Elaine couldn't find a nightstand that met her needs the mission switched to light/lamps We didn’t get the meatballs, lamps or furniture. We did go out for Mexican food!

Our crazy lives!

Monner