Tuesday, July 14, 2009

A basket of goodies.

I've made it back from the land of the wild donkeys. My sun-baked brain tells me that if I had said I'd made it back from the land of the wild asses you would have expected a far more lewd story than the reality of my family vacation. Sorry to let you down "nifty housewife" searchers.

For the second summer in a row my husband and I took the boys to Virgin Valley, NV, to dig in the dirt for opals. We found them. It was almost a telepathic experience. The opals sent out little shimmery "find me" vibes and we couldn't help but to scoop them up. I've adopted them, brought them home, and tucked them into between quilts with a glass of water and a story.

I found these:

Ooh, shiny things.

My husband found this...worth enough to pay for our trip:

The lady digging in the dirt next to us, wearing a dubiously tied string bikini top, found a $4000 opal. Next year I'm wearing tassled pasties to the mine. See if I don't. Give us a twirl darling.

As always, our family demands quality accommodations, so we set up our tent at the free CCC campground near the mines. It features a streamlined lack of trees, a new watertight pit restroom facility, and some new hooks outside of the shower house to hang your towels on.

The pond was developed over a warm spring. The swimming is a little mossy at the bottom and a little minnow-y at the top. No doubt, since I was swimming with a bunch of Bud Light drinkers, the pond was a little urine-y in the middle. Beer is yucky.

The showers run continuously, pumped in from the warm pond water. That means that on the day we left I may have rinsed off in recycled beer.

That's ok I guess. I didn't party at all in college. Time to catch up.

There is one bodily fluid I am THRILLED to have not had any contact with...at least I think I didn't. Stop that. I told you this wasn't going to be lewd. No, I'm not linking to any nifty housewife sites for your convenience. This fluid will be slightly gross however. You'll read from this point forward if I know anything about my readers and other hangers on.

See, one of those slightly drunk co-swimmers and pond urinators had an enormous pulsing pimple on his back. It's those kind of blemishes that make you wish you did have back hair. A thick curly crop of it. I tried to ignore this pimple but it had it's own telepathy and was screaming, "What big eyes you have Grandma!" Could have glued a tassled pasty to it. Give us a twirl sweetie.

It wasn't long until the man got out of the pond and dragged his pimple with him. A Bud Light shortage causes any self respecting pond dweller to move his donkey. The minnows even felt the relief not having to avert their eyes.

When pimple man returned with a freshened cooler and the moss untangled from his toes, the silence from "What big teeth you have Grandma!" was textural. Someone back at his camp had attacked Big Red.

I thought I'd heard screaming. That wasn't in my head. Mrs. Pimple must have taken care of the thing. God bless the woman. She's only doing her job. If it had burst in the pond someone would have had an eye out.

Hey...I couldn't help the pimple spotting. I'd been looking for red flashes all day. My eyes are highly trained!

In some ways it's a plus he returned to swimming. Ducking down to the middle easily sterilizes the wound.

And with that thought, I got out and had a nap.


  1. LOL sounds like u had fun on your vacation.

    Beer isnt yucky, just to let u know that u are WRONG but recycled beer thats a totally different story.

    Enjoy your nap. I think u need one after writing that blog.


  2. What a ripoff. No photo of this fabulous pimple?

  3. Sadly, I didn't realize my camera had low batteries and so I didn't get many of the photos that I had intended.

    I could, if you like, go grab a photo off the net that could give you an idea. I'm willing to make the visual sacrifice of surfing threw 100's of pimple photos for you.

  4. I don't know how you lured me in with the beautiful opals you brought home and then segued right into the pulsing pimple image. Thanks for the visual.

  5. Because opals don't pulse...sheesh.


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