I am feeling like Hercule Poirot today:

No order!  No method!  Where are the little grey cells of the brain??

I was helping a lady put together a puzzle, and the pieces were just scattered all over.  Not sorted at all, not even all in one place, jammed inside the border so you couldn't put any pieces in easily... Now, I am not the most organized person on the face of this planet.  But I was feeling distinctly jangly at this blatant lack of order.  And then... along came Hercule, muttering in my brain.  

My new favorite thought - thanks to Nichole for passing it along:

When we find it hard to leave the place of prayer is when we know we've found the presence of God.

(There, Jen - a post!  Just for you. :)

For all your burgling needs...

come to Leilani and Jane!

Jane wanted to stash some stuff in the sister's cabin at the grounds - which is not generally locked.  This time though?  Yep, you guessed it.  A nice shiny padlock was hanging from the front door and no one could find a key.  We looked everywhere, and finally called up Julia.  Yes, she had a key; but there should be 4 or 5 somewhere.  And the problem with using Julia's key is the small matter of her being several hundred miles away.  Hm. 

We notice that one window is open (oops...) but the screens don't come out, and it's too skinny and too high off the ground for me to want to try and wiggle through.  I might have fit - if I could have gotten up there!  But only 'might'.  'Might not' was pretty prominent, too.

Ok - there's the woodbin.  One could possibly crawl through the wood bin - if the stove wasn't quite so close, and one was feeling particularly contortionistic.  I do think this one could have been done - but it would have been dirty and sticky and uncomfortable and not exactly easy.  And the decisions required!  For one - which end of you do you stick in first? Face up or face down?  Straight in (possibly getting stuck at the stove), or at an angle?  Can you /really/ do the limbo in that amount of space?

Then we notice the back door (which is also locked) is one of those bathroom doors with the pinhole on the outside for shoving a bit of metal inside and unlocking.  We shove and search and shove and poke and shove some more - but either our nails aren't long enough or are too thick or are missing some essential part - because nothing opens.  Stare broodingly at door a while longer, until... bingo!

We'll unscrew the doorknob.  Screwdriver?  Who needs one of those, I have a nail with a nice sharp head!  So yes, finally, we got in.  And guess what we found there?  

All the rest of the keys to the padlock, safely and carefully locked inside.  Isn't life fun?  The keys now have company - Jane's spare stuff!

Aaaaaaaand, I'm back in Montana, and already I have done two new things.

Yesterday for lunch, we had deer-meat hotdogs.  They were very good.  Much fatter than ye old normal hotdogs, and for some unknown reason the skin was tougher, but quite tasty.

And yesterday after lunch, Jeff took me for a ride on some manner of 4-wheeler with rollbars and mesh tie ins on the sides.  We went way up into the hills; and on the way back, I drove.  It was fun, but noisy. 

You'll never guess the exciting things we have seen on our flight across southern NM!

Tarantulas!  Big black and white hairy ones crawling across the road!  I saw about 4 or 5, and finally managed to find one where there were no cars coming, and that was crawling slowly enough that it hadn't vanished by the time we got back to where we'd seen it.  Dad took a picture and we continued on down the road.

Also fields and fields and FIELDS full of oil wells.  (Are they called derricks when it is just one of those double-hammer-headed creations that go in slow, incessant circles?)  I've seen them before, of course, but never in such profusion!  It was like looking at a herd of strange, mechanical, and somewhat standoffish cows.

Speaking of cows... whilst still in TX, I noticed that we were driving through acre after acre of unhindered, uninhabited, lushly growing grass... and here and there were tiny little fences enclosing no grass at all, yet thickly clotted with cows.

What's wrong with this picture???

It was pointed out to me that I neglected to say where 'here' is.  We're in Euliss, between Ft. Worth and Dallas.  :)

The aquarium is in Dallas.

Tomorrow morning, we leave for Nevada.

It is very easy to imagine that there are longhorn cattle shaking their horns in a cloud of dust just down the street and around the corner.  Cowboys spur their horses keeping strays in line.  

There are lots of small trail towns in Texas, and I keep imagining Louis L'Amour stories happening around me... subtract the cars and trucks, and it really does look like it could be happening today instead of 150 years ago.

We went to the aquarium here, which was absolutely stunning.  I think the one in Las Vegas has a bigger shark tank and more sharks, but this one has more everything else.  Picture a building about 4 stories high and open all down the center for the first 3.  You go in and climb up the stairs to the top while it becomes more and more jungly around you, and then go inside.  Just across the way, there is a waterfall that falls down to a 'river' below, and all around on every level are plants and trees and flowers, and birds.  There are glassed in cages tucked here and there, and wired-fenced cages, all along the way.  And some birds and monkeys just live free in the center.  You wind your way down through all of this, until you reach the river, where there are otters and turtles and frogs and toads and bats and more birds and still more birds and crocodiles (separate from the otters!) and many fish.  And more monkeys, did I mention them?  Then start going underground - first there are the deeper river denizons:  giant freshwater fish and manatees and catfish that are at least 6 feet long.  The catfish were lined up, very oddly - they all faced the glass and trailed off one behind the other as if they were waiting their turn for something.  Then you go around into the salt-water areas; then begin to climb back up the other side, which is a repeat of the descent, only with different animals and birds and amphibians and fish.  Also little tiny penguins who apparently love hot weather instead of icebergs.  It was great.

In all this, I finally have managed to figure out how to take low-light photos with my camera.  :)

Well.  I went kayaking today.  :)  First time ever.  It was really fun!

Don't get too excited, there was no whitewater involved, nothing that required several hours in a swimming pool learning how to roll over and extract yourself without drowning, nothing to even extract yourself from.  Just this orange kayak-shaped thing with a snap-in seat and a paddle.  And of course, a lot of water, 4 blue herons, an osprey, a seal, a buzzard, a flock of tiny little sandpiper-looking birds, and endless seagulls.

I now consider myself practically an expert.  Whee.  You pull the thing up, scootch into it, wedge your feet on the rests, and paddle off!  Don't do a canoe paddle, just this figure-8 sort of deal across your legs.  It's very good to watch the tide so that you don't end up stranded and have to walk back up an entire bay full of mud.  Also, don't be afraid to paddle across the wind; you won't tip over.  As long, of course, as you make sure that it's not very windy before you take off.  ;)  Floating along on an out-going tide is deceptively easy; coming back will take a bit of work.  

And let's put emphasis on the deception part of the whole deal.  If the tide is going out, but not very fast, and the wind is ruffling the surface of the water; you could swear that the water (and you yourself) is holding perfectly still and it's the island that is moving.  And when you're out farther from land, and the same thing happens - or possibly a larger gust of wind comes up in your face - no matter how hard you are paddling, it seems as if you haven't budged an inch.  Look behind you and take heart though, the shore is receding.  It's good to keep an eye on the shore for another reason too - come around the point into that wind, and you may think you're paddling along merrily, sure to be home in time for cocoa; but glance sideways?  You ain't budging, honey.  All that work was just to keep in place, better dig a little deeper, and maybe aim not quite straight into the wind.  

Back to convention tomorrow.