I know…this one sounds weird, so let me explain. My sister Linda has tons of wonderful qualities, one of which is her love of animals. That love, along with a desire to eat healthy led her to give up meat many years ago. Thankfully she’s not one of those “angry” vegetarians who shames you every time a piece of chicken falls down your throat, but she does gently impart some of her beliefs on us carnivores now and then. Linda suggested I kiss a cow quite certainly hoping that if I got intimate with the living, breathing beast, I’d think twice before ordering a rib-eye.
This week during our annual pilgrimage to Beach Lake Pennsylvania for our family reunion, four of us decided to break away from the pack to go horseback riding. After hanging with the horses the trail guide invited us into the barn to meet their other resident animals – goats, pigs, chickens, a momma duck and her five ducklings, and a sweet little cow! Time to complete another 60 x 60 challenge!
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I wasn’t exactly sure what the protocol was for kissing a large farm animal, and I think it took her a little by surprise, but she was happy to oblige.
Though it was lovely to meet (and to kiss) this dear girl, I’m not sure I’m ready to be a herbivore anytime soon. Sorry Linda.
Growing up my taste in music couldn’t quite be called eclectic. Classic rock gave way to punk and new wave/alternative. No disco. Occasionally reggae, ska and rockabilly. NEVER country. Ever. Never. Ever.
Then I found myself in South Dakota where I was convinced I’d found my people. I left there with a VERY blingy rhinestone belt and a somewhat tentative respect for country music. Then I visited Texas where I took a two-step lesson and came home with an impressive pair of cowboy boots and an adorable hat. I added No Shoes Radio and Y2Kountry to my XM radio presets and found I could listen to Toby Keith endlessly. I don’t know how it happened, but I became a cowgirl.
While the two-step was fun, I wanted to understand the intricacies of this line dancing thing. Something that has apparently become a phenomenon right here in suburban Long Island with nary a cowboy in sight.
On a humid 90 degree night, decked out in the aforementioned boots and hat and with my trusty partner in crime Suzanne by my side, off we went to Patchogue to Dublin Deck’s Wednesday Country Night. Plans were to get there at 5:00 for the free lesson, but Long Island traffic had another idea and we got there at 5:30 with our hopes dashed. But no worries – the lessons go to 6:00 and new dances are taught throughout. We stumbled. We got caught up in the hitch, the grapevine and the toe/heel tapping, but little by little we were GETTING IT! Like we didn’t totally embarrass ourselves and were actually able to keep up. Somewhat.
By the time the band got started the place was packed to the gills with wannabe cowboys and cowgirls tearing up the dance floor. We met wonderful people who were anxious to bring us into their country fold and we learned where we could take lessons right in downtown Greenlawn!
To say this was life changing is an understatement. This former punk who used to “pogo” to The Blitzkrieg Bop has traded in her white capezios for kick ass boots and is learning how to kick ball change, bump and shuffle. The takeaway? Keep growing, keep challenging and perhaps open your mind to ideas you’ve formerly been averse to.
Ya know…this list looks good on paper. In practice? Well this one was scary as hell! Why, you ask? I have terrible balance, I’m not at all fond of bodies of water that aren’t loaded with chlorine and I’ve got not a single athletic cell in my body.
I missed my first opportunity to try SUP (that’s how the cool kids abbreviate it) when we had to cancel a trip to Schroon Lake two weeks ago. I missed my second when we just couldn’t get it in gear during a visit to our friend’s lake house in Rhode Island last weekend. July 4th, I was leisurely floating in the pool with my sister Linda, and told her about my two dashed chances. Always the supportive sister, she told me she would do it with me if I wanted. Hello Groupon! For a mere 37 bucks each we signed up for a 90 minute instruction and tour in Cold Spring Harbor. I proceeded to spend the week alternating between panic and preparation. I have wicked bad knees and I knew a great part of this activity was going to involve kneeling and hopefully getting up from kneeling. I literally was practicing this on the floor. In my house.
The email from JKKayak.com came and for some reason assumed I was excited. I also needed water shoes. I haven’t worn those dorky things since I was a kid at Asharoken Beach and my tender little feet couldn’t handle rocks. A quick trip to Dick’s and I had water shoes and volleyball knee pads for both of us. Yes. Volleyball knee pads. Did I mention my wicked bad knees?
So at 10:15 on this beautiful Sunday morning we arrived in Cold Spring Harbor, spotted the JK Kayak van and with less excitement than the email suggested, dragged ourselves over to meet our instructor Krissy.
We got fitted for our paddles and our life jackets and if I thought those water shoes were dorky, check out the two of us in knee pads! We learned how to paddle, how to get from kneeling to standing, and my favorite – how to fall. Apparently it’s important to fall AWAY from the board and not face-plant onto it. Who knew!?
We got on our boards and started paddling out. Once Krissy brought us out past the channel it was time to stand up. On a board. Floating in the water. I’d like to say it went well. I’d like to say I wasn’t startled by a giant swan landing nearby. I’d like to say I fell into the water with grace and aplomb, but none of those would be true. Unbeknownst to me, Linda also took a fall. She, however, wasn’t paying attention during the instructions, and totally face-planted. I ended up sucking in some very salty water, managed to get back on the board and somehow got the guts to try it again. SUCCESS! I was standing on water! I lasted for quite a while too. We paddled along and I may have heard Krissy talk about the Cold Spring Harbor Lab yada, yada, yada, but I was afraid to look anywhere but straight ahead. Then the wind kicked up and helpful hint – once you slightly lose your balance on a paddleboard, you’re done. There’s no recovering while standing on water. Back in I went. I think it was here I blew my whistle and yelled “man down!” I thought it was funny, but Krissy got all nervous. All in all…I fell three times, which means I successfully got up twice (I happily paddled myself in on my knees).
Bottom line…I did it! Will I do it again? Not sure. Maybe if I’m on real calm water and I can stop sooner if I decide I’m done. But I will tell you…those knee pads were brilliant!