Welcome to North Idaho Adventures

Live Richly, Live Free. Embrace All The Blessings From Our Creator and Marvel in His Creation.

Tuesday, February 4, 2014

Family Hot Springs Trip

Pedro's Preposterous Pooch Pickle

   Last week I'd gotten "the call" which turned the entire neighborhoods worlds upside down for a couple of days.  Little did I know what kind of crazy misadventure I was in for.........
    Our neighbor "Perch" was apparently in a pickle needing to leave town in a hurry.  He asked me if I would watch his dogs for him.  Being the neighborly girl I am, I agreed right away, though I really didn't know him or his dogs all that well.  He said I would be contacted later on and hurriedly hung up the phone. 
   That afternoon, while I had kids being home schooled at the table, eggs frying on the stove and pitas flipping in and out of the oven at an alarming rate of speed, Perch's friend "Smosh" popped in with the dogs.  Smosh thought the eggs looked good, so he enjoyed some while scrawling down a few details on the doggies.
   Meanwhile, chaos erupted.  Homeschooling for the day was a memory while kids and dogs ran amuck in all directions.  We were already watching 1 dog for a friend, had 2 of our own, and the neighbors lap dogs brought us to a grand total of six!! 
    As eggs continued frying, Smosh handed me a check saying something like "it might be a while" and "please take it".  It was around then, that I noticed Momo, the geriatric and incapacitated white fluffy lap dog.  She stood there, staring at the wall shivering, wearing a Martha Stewart sweater.  She hadn't moved since she arrived.  Smosh explained that Momo might be blind and crippled and mostly incapacitated.  She needed food or water to be placed in her face in order for her to find it.  I gulped.  With a busy home like mine, that might be hard to remember. 
    Momo was still staring at the wall when Smosh left.  Tinkles was walking all over my porch lifting his leg on every inch of house he could find.  I gulped again.  The kids informed me that Pedro, the Mexican pup had taken off at an alarming speed, ran under an operating logging skidder and disappeared over the hillside of the neighbors property.  Apparently the logging operation was not happy about kids being around and shooed them away (thank goodness).
   Since I'd never formally met Pedro, I thought it best to give him some time to make it back to the other dogs.  I also had pre-arranged weeks ago for my girlfriend to come over that day for prayer.  She'd driven from an hour away and arrived almost as soon as Smosh had left.  What I didn't know was that Pedro had the gift of gab.  Being the debonair gentleman that he is, Pedro had apparently ran several miles, met up with some friendly passersby and had finessed his way into their vehicle.  All the while the entire neighborhood was on the verge of being turned upside down, Pedro was in a nice, comfortable holding cell.
   After an hour or more, my girlfriend departed and I realized things were beginning to deteriorate.  Pedro had not returned.  Momo had moved away from the wall, but didn't want the food or water I offered her.  As I paced around trying to decide what to do, Tinkles jumped all over my furniture.  He would sit on one piece, I would shoo him off, and as I turned my back, he'd be up on something else.  I was beginning to feel a little edgy.
    Soon I dragged my 5 year old out the door without dinner and was out driving around looking for Pedro.  I had called one of the neighbors and he was looking too.  Then I stopped by several more neighbors houses and scouted around their yards.  I also drove down the road a ways, but he was no where to be found.  I even looked back at his parents house.
     With great dread, I called Smosh.  I had had no idea what I'd agreed to.  Now I had this big disaster on my hands.  Smosh was sorry to hear that.  Next I called Perch.  Perch was not happy, as I expected.  He told me that Pedro made a strange barking sound and I should go back out and listen for it.  I was leery.  It was pitch black outside, a snowstorm was brewing, and I couldn't really hear that good from my car.
   Before I knew it, I'd abandoned all hope of cooking my family dinner and dawned with a flashlight, I was out scouring the neighborhood by foot.  I climbed across big log piles constructed that day, listening, in the dark and made my way around where the dog may have gone.  In the end, I was tired, hungry, and frustrated.  How was I to possibly keep this dog herded in the first place?  I listened in the dead of the night for the telltale yipping, but heard nothing but eerie silence.  I hoped if the thing had any good instinct, it had holed up some place until morning.
    Upon arriving exhausted into the door, the phone was ringing.  It was Perch wanting us to go out looking again.  Ringing in on the other line was Smosh.  This time Perch didn't want to talk to me and appealed to my better half.  Soon my dear husband, past his bedtime, was out looking for the wayward pooch.  After getting off the phone, I called more neighbors who promised they'd look around their places.   My husband returned much later, very tired and irritable.  Just as he was trying to go to sleep the phone rang again.  This time it was the hospital, wanting me to work the next day.  I hated giving up the opportunity for work, but I soon explained the situation to my co-worker who told me "I always knew there was something wrong with you".  Laughing he hung up.  I rolled my eyes and fell into a fitful sleep.  All night long I had nightmares about angry neighbors and chihuahuas in logging accidents.
   In the morning my husband informed me he had not gotten any sleep, was sick and was calling in sick.  The snowball rolled on.  I was beginning to lose my sanity.  Pretty soon a tiff between us erupted and I followed him down the stairs into a giant puddle which I guessed may have come from Tinkles.  Tinkles eyed me warily from his position on the couch.  I shooed him off.  Then I carried Momo over to the water bowl.  It made a drinking sound.  She hadn't been willing to eat anything up until then except for hamburger and bacon.  I was relieved she was drinking. 
    I continued the tiff with my husband as I sopped up the gigantic lake in my living room.  I shooed Tinkles off the chair.  Finally, after cooking my husband breakfast, I convinced him that since he was calling in sick that he may as well come back to bed. This put us both in a much better frame of mind, that is until we were all snggly and the phone rang..........................
     A detailed message went off on our answering machine.  Apparently Smosh had driven up in the middle of the night, braving a 6 inch snowstorm to search for the missing pup.  He only had a PT Cruiser and was now stranded at the top of my driveway.  He was hoping to come down and prowl around our yard.
     Eventually, I made it down the stairs, feeling like I'd reached maximum mental capacity.  I didn't know what more I could do, but whatever it was, it wasn't enough.  I filed a police report, and left messages with the pound and boarding kennels.  Surely someone had seen the runaway.  I also called a nearby elderly recluse who loves our family.  He normally covers many miles each day and promised me that he would be out early that morning scouting for tracks.  Smosh popped in and my boys went off searching with him. 
    I hurriedly gave my 5 year old breakfast, bundled her up and was about to head out driving down the highway when the phone rang.  It was one of my neighbors telling me the other neighbor had Tinkles.  He informed me that Tinkles would prefer to stay there until his owner returned.  I was not at all pleased.  It was bad enough I couldn't keep track of one dog, now this?!?  I drug my 5 year old back down the trail to the adjoining property and knocked on the door.  The neighbors inside eyed me accusingly.  They informed me that had they been home, the neighbor would have chosen them to watch the dogs.  His girlfriend held the shivering Tinkles in a towel telling me he had ice balls all over his underside.  Now I was really losing it. I'm delinquent with Tinkles too?  I scooped up Tinkles and marched home.  I put Tinkles inside cringing at what he might be doing to my house while I was out looking for Pedro.
   Miss Moonbeam and I boarded the vehicle and plowed through 6 inches of snow up the road.  We saw Smosh and the boys trudging through the deep powder.  "Do you know there is a cat riding on the roof of your car?" Smosh asked nonchalantly.  I thought maybe Smosh had hypothermia of the brain.  Then the boys agreed.  I began to think I had no pride left whatsoever.  Sure enough, our cat, was indeed, riding on the roof of the vehicle.  Please insert the "Green Acres" theme song here as you pause and calmly think of that.  Smosh told me not to worry.  Perch had booked an emergency flight back home so he could call for his pooch "with his own voice".  Surely Pedro would respond to his owners voice.
   Upon arriving home after another yet unproductive search, the phone rang.  It was the pound.  They notified me that Pedro was there and that his owners would be picking him up later on that day.  I militantly guarded Tinkles and frequently assisted the geriatric resident with her dietary necessities.  I never heard from Perch until he stopped by for his dogs that evening.  He was tired and nonconversative other than to tell me I should have looked on the highway and that he would be needing his check back.
    It took me a few days to recover from the incident.  I was thankful that I had been invited to a Hard Cider making class that week.  Since then, Miss Moonbeam has frequently pretended to be Perches beautiful wife looking for her wayward pup.  Whenever she does this, The "Green Acres" theme song resounds in my brain on repeat mode.


Tuesday, January 7, 2014

The Bug Out Life

Our New Pup "Deogi" with the chickens

My Hunting Guides This Year Were A Sordid Bunch

The Lankier Gentleman Led Me To This 3x3

And Then The Work Dragging It Out AND UPHILL Began......

Cross Country Ski with Saphira

Quinns Hot Spring Resort With My Man

Dinner at Quinns

Christmas Cowgirl

Our Christmas

Boys Heading Out On An Adventure

Fun Christmas Break with Friends (Night Hike)

Picking Fruit at Our Neighbors Place

Louis L'Amour and Camping

Secret Camping Location

Our Last Camping Trip of The Year (Sept 2013)

Archers Wood Replacement

My Beautiful Redheads

Family Target Practice Day

Art Dog Fighting Bees to Can Fruit (and getting a bit punchy)

"We're going to be Grandmas!!!"

On our Trip up to Ainsworth, BC

Looking back on my blogs makes me wonder who I am and where I've been for the past 9 months.  Its not something I can
really answer.  I guess stress does that for a person.  It makes them forced to look inside and see who they really are. 
Some days it seems like the demons I fight are unrelenting and I will never defeat them.  Other days seem like I have the
best life ever.  Such is humanity, and the wars we all must wage......
      Every time I read a fun novel, I get some new inspiration to keep writing and such has been the case with James
Wesley Rawles "Patriots", "Survivors" and "Expatriates".  I'm currently working on "Survivors" and sad to be on the last
one I haven't read.  Its challenged me in a whole new way and caused me to change the way I think just a little bit. 
"Always Enough" by Heidi Baker did that, as did "Dreaming with God" by Bill Johnson.  Books tend to give us new
perspective we didn't see before.  Anyhow, this series kind of opened my eyes to the fact that I have neglected some
important details of life.
   For years I have either led a Bible Study, prayer group, or heavily pushed someone else into leading one.  I regularly
initiate women into prayer and fasting.  At the same time, I never stop planning the next trip to the beach, hotspring, or
camping trip.  "Fun" never leaves my list of priorities.  I am always at war with calories and obesity, (though as late
Miss Belly Fat has been gaining ground).  I am always thinking about how I can be a better mother, better wife, better
friend.  All these things are good and important, but when it comes to thinking of the future and making any kind of
provision for it, I fail miserably.  I NEVER think about such things.  If my husband asks me to buy something extra, I
find the cheapest possible item so I have more money to spend on now.  Future things are just not in my line of thinking. 
Now, next week, perhaps next months fun activity.
   The beauty of the books was that they were not just an adventure, or entertainment.  They forced me to put life into a
different perspective.  Regardless of what a person has now, or thinks will happen, there is no way anyone can really know
for sure.  Is it really so out of line to want to keep extra food on hand?  Of course not.  Is our dollar really reliable?
 No.  So investing in precious medals is prudent - right?  What about knowing how to shoot?  Honestly, target practice is
never on my favorite list of things to do, but protecting my kids is right?  All these things tucked away at the corner of
my mind gets forced out there in front and makes me see, theres this place I have refused to go that really needs visited.
   Prepper type people are out of my comfort zone.  Talking about such things is waaaayyy out of my comfort zone.  I am a
fun loving girl who thinks she is a little bit tough.  I'm proud of taking down a buck, doing a long run or backpacking
into the wild for days.  I have this false illusion that because I can do these things, and a lot of other people can't,
I'm okay.  So I have this girlfriend, now, who carries a "bug out bag" with her everywhere she goes.  That is waaaayyy out
of my thinking.  It makes me kind of uncomfortable.  Is there really need to carry a bugout bag all over the place?  Who
cares.  The point is that I judge things like that because they are uncomfortable to my train of thinking.  Is she hurting
anybody or herself?  What if she spills coffee on herself while she's driving?  Well I guess she'll have some clean
clothes along.  What if her car breaks down and she has to walk, or gets caught in a snow storm?  Well, I guess she'll
have food enough to be comfortable.  What if there is an economical collapse and she has to fight her way home?  Well,
she's prepared and I'm not.  These kind of people, these kind of books, challenge me in a new way. 
   What really creeps me out is that so many people seem to be quietly preparing for something.  I laughed and made fun of
the Y2K thing.  People then were bold about doom and gloom.  They acted like they "knew better" than others and it made
them kind of comical to me.  Now days, every where I turn, I am faced with quiet people readying themselves for hard times
ahead.  None of them say much.  Maybe they are tired of being ridiculed, or maybe they are a little bit paranoid.  Entire
denominations seem to be "preparing".  A person can't look around and not be a little bit creeped out wondering "Is there
something I'm missing here?"


Friday, August 30, 2013