For those of you wondering, Kristanne didn't quite have enough for the first down on this play, but she decided to go for it on fourth and Arizona to go. Good decision -- not only did she make the yards, she also picked up three souvenir t-shirts, a hunk of Indian Frybread, and some turquoise earrings. Naturally, she's holding out for the big money now that her rookie contract is up. She's a franchise player, in my humble estimation -- we're talking Pro Bowl from now until Michael Irvin's next drug bust.
Ok, ok, so she's not really playing football. That's the Four Corners National Monument of story and song, and lucky Kristanne has an extremity in Arizona, New Mexico, Colorado, and Utah. She is, in fact, both bad and nationwide. That's Otto back there in the background, lurking somewhere behind that sharp-dressed man between Colorado and Utah. Me, I'm just up on the picture platform doing the tube snake boogie as I capture the whole scene for posterity. This has been the ZZ Top paragraph. If I have my way, there won't be ever be another one, so you might want to enjoy it while you're able.
Now, for the past several weeks, we at this feature have been hearing an annoyingly large number of complaints about our "Extreme Shots of the Day." One chronic whiner from San Francisco, CA, writes that, "While the concept of the Extreme Shot of the Day is great, the pictures haven't always lived up to the title." Chiming in with a similar theme is an habitual kvetcher from Middletown, CT., who managed to lift his knuckles from scraping the ground long enough to type, "Extreme, my butt. Do you guys even vaguely grasp the meaning of the word? Either get off your butts, or I'm cancelling my subscription." The butt fixation of this second writer aside, we might possibly allow that some of the Extreme Shots have been a little less than extreme.
| That's why during our hike on the Grand Canyon Rim trail, Kristanne decided to shove me off the edge and into the abyss. She thought that my reaction might produce a photograph of an Extremeness that would satisfy even the most choosy of readers. That's Kristanne there at right, telling me that she won't help me up until we have just the right shot. For being my fiancee', she can be surprisingly tough-minded when it comes to putting me in life-threatening situations. "It's all for the benefit of our readers," she explained as she tried to coax a more extreme facial expression out of my fear-paralyzed face. "C'mon honey...grimace!" |  |
Though I can't say as I really dig Kristanne's methods, I can't argue with her results. Here's the Extreme Shot of the Day, but remember -- my pain is your amusement. If you can live with that, then read on.
After having a little talk with Kristanne about the appropriate ways in which to demonstrate our affection for one another (Point 1 -- Don't Push Me Off Cliffs), I showered up, dressed my wounds, and we headed off for Mesa Verde, with Kristanne a little put out that I was being, as she said, "such a crybaby about the whole thing."
Now, Kristanne and I have been to Mesa Verde once before. Two years ago, when we moved from Austin, TX, to Tacoma, WA, Mesa Verde was the main thing Kristanne wanted to see en route. Imagine our surprise when we showed up at their doorstep, U-Haul trailer in tow, only to be told that trailers were not allowed in the park. Narrow roads and not enough turnaround space, we were told. We were given the option of leaving our trailer containing all our worldly possessions in a parking lot next to the freeway or of coming back another time. As we debated our options, we marvelled at the forty-foot plus RVs that ventured into the park, apparently unaffected by the precarious road conditions that prevented our Toyota pickup and tiny little U-Haul trailer from safely negotiating the park. "Wow," we thought. "Something's messed up here." After much good-natured debate and one ill-timed filibuster, we decided to come back another time. That time had now come. Would they let us in this time, or did they have some secret vendetta against us? Were they in cahoots with that fellow at the ISP in Grand Juntion? We were back in Colorado, after all. Or was that evil chipmunk spreading his influence across the Rocky Mountain region? It was unclear. The inscrutable fellow at right gave us no clue as to his disposition as he examined our papers. |
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Our limbo was short-lived, however, as the ranger casually (and finally) waved us in to the park, where we were able to secure a campsite in what is reputedly the largest campground in the National Park System. They like to brag that the campground has "never been filled, except once," which means (1) they don't really quite grasp the whole "never" concept, and (2) they just don't have a whole helluva lot to brag about.
Join us tomorrow as we explore ancient Anasazi ruins, and the Cortez Public Library.
Total Miles for 7/1 = 314