Danger at East Canyon + What's the Difference Results

The beautiful East Canyon Resort Condominiums

We stood in the waning light. Frozen.

Not because of our temperature, but because of what we saw.

Seconds earlier, we were making our way back from visiting the bubbly outdoor hot tub, beach towels circling our torso, poised to mop up the water our swimming suits were holding hostage.  Under normal conditions, if I was standing under a cosmic canopy in the biting March mountain air, dripping wet with saturated spandex covering only 1/4th of my body, I would be shivering. And complaining. But tonight my liver and heart, having been sufficiently marinated, rewarded me with with uncommon warmth. I was grateful for that.

We had been contentedly walking along the sidewalk, when Mr. Fish suddenly blurted a firm directive.

"Stop! Look!.. There are three pairs of raccoon eyes right over there."

Sure enough, across the parking lot about 75 yards away, were three pairs of shining, glow-in-the-dark orbs. They looked just like cat eyes in the dark. Only more menacing. They pierced. And stared. They were frozen, too. Apparently we looked quite menacing ourselves, with our bare hairy legs and all.

Earlier, we had seen a live raccoon, climbing from our garbage just outside the condo kitchen window. The critter appeared quite smug having found a bonanza of sausage scraps. So, we knew we were imposing at their resort.

Immediately, as it usually does in precarious situations, our conversation turned to survival tactics.

"What would you do if those raccoons ran toward us?" Mr. Fish prompted.

I took a quick survey of our location. We were walled in with two-story condos on either side, and fences lining the cement path. To make a successful get-away, I would either have to dust off my rusty [non-existent] Olympic hurdle skills or race the critter to our front door, in the dark, dripping, with shoes half-hanging off my feet. Neither option sounded appealing. Or safe.

"I would try to kick them away" said my manly hunk of protecting love.

"Kick them away?" I answered timidly. "But what about their...."

"I know." Mr. Fish butted in. "They have razor sharp teeth, and claws that could tear your flesh into...."

His voice faded away as we silently finished this sentence in our own imaginations.

"But they would have to be rabid to attack us like that" Mr. Fish confidently taught.

"Uh...huh." I reticently agreed, still scoping out possible escape routes, and thinking what I would use to stop the bleeding on my heroic husband's sacrificial leg.

My 'possibles' were interrupted by the chattering of our sixteen year old twins who stayed behind to take advantage of the sauna and were now catching up to us.

"Ssshhhh" Mr. Fish urgently whispered. "We are watching some raccoons."

"Where?" they responded with an excited urge. "Let's try to catch one!" Which is their standard ambition for anything we see, including out-of-town female youth groups.

"Right over there, in front of that garage on the condo across the parking lot. There are three of them. One in front and two smaller ones behind. They are sitting still, just staring at us." Mr. Fish muffled quietly so as not to disturb the other hoards of wild animals that could have been silently lurking and poised to pounce.

Then Andy, with his 16 year old retinas, said in a polite and heavily restrained smirk... "Uh.... mom and dad....those are grates on the garage door, just reflecting the light from inside the garage. That's why they are standing so still."

At least I think that last sentence is what he said. Hard to tell between the roar of laughter that ensued from the sauna boys.

Mr. Fish and I, doubtful of this absurd accusation, took a few tentative steps closer to confirm OUR hypotheses, and subsequently took a few steps closer to a remaining lifetime of humiliation.....

......because the sauna boys and their 16 year old memories won't let us live this one down.


Keep swimming and... remember to have an annual eye exam.
Ms. Fish

________________________ * _______________________

In other news:

Congrats to BONNIE who said, "I got it. Easier than the others. Thanks for these fun games. Sad to see them end." You are the winner in our final "What's the Difference" game. Please email me (link above) and I will send your prize. And thanks to all who played.


What's the Difference: Tulips

 Hello and Happy Monday!

Are you ready to play What's the Difference?

Today's game is brought to you by the letter T.

For Tulips (my favorite Spring flower). And Tunes.

Here are the rules for today's game...

1. There are THREE differences between the two pictures (besides the labels).
2. After you find them, simply leave a comment on the blog, indicating you know what they are. But PLEASE don't spill the beans in the comments.
3. On Thursday, a person will be chosen at random to receive this week's prize....

drum roll..........

a $15 iTunes Gift Card.

Tadah! Time to Tickle your ears with Terrific Tunes

After a winner has been chosen, I will email you and then you can tell me what the differences are. If you are right, I'll send your prize. If you are wrong (which you won't be because I like to look at the bright spring sunny side), then I'll pick another person. Randomly.

Photo credit: Karen Waldrond

Happy staring and thanks for playing.

Keep swimming. And if you want a great song suggestion to buy with your iTunes gift card, how about Spring by Vivaldi. It's sure to make you think of butterflies and blossoms.
Ms. Fish

PS: I saw some tulips!!!! For reals.... that means this is the final "What's the Difference?" game. It's been fun for me. How about you?


Confessions of a 1000-Thread Count Sheet Lover

I want to make a confession. Which could be misconstrued as a rant. Or a gratuitous plea for support. If you choose to take a more jaded view. I prefer to think of it as a healthy admission.....a step on the winding path to self-enlightenment.

I do NOT like cheap stuff. 

I do not like it Sam-I-Am. I do not like cheap filler-injected ham. I do not like the dollar store. I do not want to shop there more.

_______________________ * _________________________

Which brings me to the topic of more disclosure. I have a certain talent and skill which has complicated my life. This skill is basically a special super power. I have an internal honing device that can identify with laser-like precision the most expensive item in any store. I can pick it out AND it is almost always the very item I loooove the most! This has become a running joke with Mr. Fish. If I show interest in something, we don't even have to check the pricetag to KNOW it is the most expensive item in the store. Someone should hire me to sniff out the best products. I would be a killer contestant if they make a new game show: THE PRICE IS HIGH.

I can't help it. I would much rather have ONE pair of $200 quality leather boots that will wear well and just get better-looking and more comfortable with age than have ten pairs of $20 shoes from Target. Quality over quantity. Any day. And always.

_______________________ * _________________________
I am tired of cheap stuff. 

Daisy just bought a pair of shoes, wore them once and the sole is worn out. Bah!!

Oh sure, expensive doesn't always equate to quality. But it's often a good indicator. I'm not saying I love paying full inflated prices for things. I love a good sale. But there is no doubt I am attracted to nice, quality things.

_______________________ * _________________________

This has at certain times (read: always) been an itty bitty source of contention between my husband and me. He likes cheap stuff.

He likes cheap stuff because it is a survival tactic.
He likes cheap stuff because of our career choices.
He likes cheap stuff because we have four teen-agers whose expenses are equivalent to the national budget of New Zealand.
He likes cheap stuff because he is content.
He likes cheap stuff because his wife doesn't.

His healthy ways are quite sickening. Well... honestly, his ways have kept us solvent.

My skills are dangerous. It makes it hard. I would rather not have a couch at all and ask our company to sit on the floor while we wait until we can afford a leather couch. Mr. Fish is totally content with getting a couch passed over from my parents. But only because that is the way he has to be. And I really do appreciate and love him for that. Someday, when we have the means, he will like nice things too.

The bottom line is that I have everything I need. Arms. Legs. A few molars for chewing. House with heat. Car that [mostly] runs. I am seriously blessed with my second-hand sofa and a closet with Payless shoes.

And yet... I can't ignore my inner yearnings. I confess.

_______________________ * _________________________

Can you tell which shoe has the highest price? My super powers could tell. Your foot could tell.

One of these shoes is $24.99. The other is $345.00

Keep swimming and supporting American-made products.
Ms. Fish


Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...