On Friday, we attended a murder mystery dinner. Jamie was the perfect Groucho Marx and I was none other than the illustrious Marilyn Monroe. This is the second time in three months I have played a skank. On our cruise, we did a murder mystery and I was the loose woman who had an affair with the ship’s captain. Coincidence or typecast? Hmmm….

Our friends, Eva and Jon, went all out for the occasion. I mean, it’s not everyday you have John Wayne, Ginger Rogers, Fred Astaire, Joni Mitchell, Elvis, Jimi Hendrix, Patsy Kline and Judy Garland at your place. We were greeted with a red carpet, showered with gifts and indulged in delicious food. Oh, and did I mention there was a murder?

As “perfect” as everyone thought I was for the role, I was no Marilyn. I’ve never watched any of her movies nor had a fan blowing up my skirt for more than 10 seconds at at time. But I put forth a good effort and even straightened my hair for the occasion. Too bad I had an allergic reaction to my hairspray. This, after spending the entirety of the 80s with the mother of all hair-sprayed bangs.

Even worse was that when prepping me on her voice, my little Groucho made a better Marilyn than I.

I had a grand time acting out the murder. How could I not with lines like “I’m sooooo sick of being a sex symbol and my hour-glass shape.”

Coincidentally, I said the same thing just last week.

Or the very revealing scripted conversation with none other than Groucho (because who could resist that profile?): “Such lovely men at the party like you, Groucho. You’re a kook but such a kind kook. Let’s go find a room somewhere and I’ll show you why blondes are soooo special….Sorry baby, but some gals have a seven-year itch, mine’s more of a seven-minute itch.”

Jamie wishes I said the same thing just last week.

In the end, none of us solved the mystery. Part of it was the script wasn’t very well written (minus my memorable lines), the other part was we’re s-t-u-p-i-d. On our invitations, we were given clothing suggestions. Everyone except for Jimi Hendrix who was required to bring a guitar and wear a large ring. Coincidentally, these were also the murder weapons. Don’t look for us on C.S.I. anytime soon.

When not making our pathetic attempts to solve the murder, there were also memorable dinner conversations. Ginger proudly announced that her daughter won student of the month and her son received early admission into high school algebra.

As we all himed and hawed in admiration, good ol’ Groucho made an announcement of his own:

“Hadley had diarrhea last week and then rubbed her butt all over the wall.”

I could not have been more proud….

Murder Mystery Mom Blog

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog

I love cuddling up to a good book but these days all reading seems to be dedicated unto Dr. Seuss. So I had to chuckle when Lynn Bowen Walker contacted me of all people to review her book Queen of the Castle.

Until I noted the subtitle: 52 Week of Homemaking Encouragement for the Uninspired, Domestically Challenged and Just Plain Tired. Now that is something with personal application, especially when it has a chapter heading Housework, Done Correctly, Can Kill You.

And just when have I found the time to be inspired reading her book, you may ask? On this queen’s porcelain throne. I’m sure Lynn would be thrilled to know I garner inspiration during potty time but hey, whatever works.

The book is broken down into weekly vignettes consisting of humorous tips, stories, recipes and the all-important Chocolate Breaks. Oh, and not to be forgotten are her enlightening vocabulary words such as TORPID–Deprived of the power of motion; dormant. As in “Kids, let’s not spend our entire summer like torpid blobs in front of the TV set.”

Deep.

But what I’ve really enjoyed are the inspirational quotes. In honor of Mother’s Day, I thought this address Barbara Bush gave at a Wellesley College commencement when she was First Lady was absolutely perfect:

“For several years, you’ve had impressed upon you the importance to your career of dedication and hard work. This is true, but as important as your obligations as a doctor, lawyer, or business leader will be, you are a human being first, and those human connections–with spouses, with children, with friends–are the most important investments you will ever make.

“At the end of your life, you will never regret not having passed one more test, not winning one more verdict, or not closing one more deal. You will regret time not spent with a husband, a friend, a child, or a parent…

“One thing will never change: fathers and mothers, if you have children…they must come first.
Your success as a family…our success as a society…depends not on when happens at the White House, but on what happens inside your house.”

Along the same inspirational lines, a closing vocabulary word: CALLIPYGIAN–Having beautifully proportioned buttocks. As in “Honey, does this bathing suit make me look callipygian?”

Sure beats looking fat….

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog

I’ve been MIA lately due to my glorious cough-’til-you-puke condition and finally broke down and went to the doc. Sure enough, I have bronchitis and he sent me home with some wonnnnnderful drugs that make the kids sleep through the night. Or rather, make me sleep through the night. Same result in the end. 🙂

But onto Getting Back to Nature—

Following my little episode of Parents Gone Wild, Jamie and I scaled up the crimson cliffs that cowered over our grotto and passed out on a slab of sandstone. This was one of my favorite moments on our trip: lazing around together, snuggling and intertwined, just listening to silence.

We watched the colors of the sky shift, like pigment seeping into paper. Blackish blue to midnight blue to dark blue to ebony. We talked of all things meaningful and spiritual. The setting was almost womblike in its reverence as we watched constellations and satellites magically appear.

We then went back to the tent where I puked. Over and over again.

Fortunately, I spared the innards of our habitation and left my mark just outside the door. It was a cacophony of hacking and convulsions. Between each of them, Jamie complained: “You get sick on every trip.”

Cough. Bleh.
“Costa Rica.”
Cough. Bleh.
“Canada.”
Cough. Bleh.
“Vail.”
Cough cough. Bleh.
“Our cruise.”
Bleh bleh bleh.

He really could have worked on his timing. You know, for sympathy points.

Fortunately our trip was so much more than just my violent coughing bouts. We also spent many hours slithering through Devil’s Kitchen’s countless labyrinths, hanging out in Moab for an antique car show and indulging ourselves on our final night at a gorgeous adventure lodge with a private patio that backed out to the Colorado River.

One of my favorite stops after backpacking in Canyonlands is at the Needles Outpost. This little general store has some eccentric wares, along with hilarious grey-haired proprietors who have lived at this veritable hippie mecca for ages. It’s the kind of place I would not be one bit surprised if they grew certain contraband plants out back nor if they smoked them a minimum of well, daily.

My latest experience did not disappoint. As I was paying, the woman looked down at my flip flops.

“I looooove those!” she exclaimed.

“Oh, thanks. They’re actually Crocs.”

“Reallllllly. I so hate their other shoes. They’re sooooo ugly. But those are coooooool.”

“I agree. These are really comfortable, too.”

She gazed at me in awe, zipped around the counter, bent down to analyze them and reverently queried, “Can I touch them?”

The mere scent alone would have warded most people off. But this gal looked like she hadn’t showered in a month so I brazenly said, “Sure!” and proudly displayed my repugnant feet. She ooed and awed over my footwear.

I almost asked if she wanted my autograph but stopped myself. Just in case she would have actually taken me up on it….

A closing thought for all those tree huggers out there: Nothing says “Getting Back to Nature” like this lovely eyesore. I’m glad they included the arrow. Just in case you somehow missed it, of course.

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog

Wordless Wednesday

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog

The prodigal daughter has returned from a perfect weekend in The Land of Milk and Honey. Well, almost perfect. This is me we’re talking about.

We were blessed to backpack one of the premier areas in the United States: Canyonlands National Park. We stumbled upon a little gem in their backcountry–Devil’s Kitchen–four years ago. I’m not sure what makes it so amazing. Maybe it’s the giant slabs of rosy sandstone that cover the area like a moonscape. Or maybe that the only way to access it is on foot or via Elephant Hill, a precipitous and death-defying 4X4 ascent where countless cars have committed suicide.

As we started up the trail, it was like stumbling into a familiar, wonderful dream. Until I awoke myself up. If you will recall, I had a little cold earlier in the week. A little cold that evolved into full-fledged bronchitis. Ever backpacked with bronchitis? I wouldn’t recommend it. At least not highly.

I really was doing pretty well as we wound through the ascent’s fiery matrix of erosion. The convoluted canyon’s steep and embayed cliffs dwarfed us at every turn. This dramatic sweep of sandstone was punctuated by dizzying rock pinnacles that caused us to frequently pause for inspiration and wonder if this had to be heaven.

Until the fumes began.

I stopped, looked but found nothing. A few minutes later, I ascertained it was following us. Or rather, following Hunky Hubby. Turns out the sugar-free Twizzlers we munched on the drive have a little side effect they call “gastric discomfort.” Ever hiked for several hours behind a skunk? I wouldn’t recommend it. At least not highly. Especially when you, too become doubled over with the same condition. I think I’ll just spring for the sugar next time.

When we finally arrived at Devil’s Kitchen, we quickly setup camp before darkness won out. We were pleased to discover there was only one other campsite (out of the four) that was inhabited over the widespread area. This was isolation at its best.

Or so we thought.

As the sun went down, temperatures grew brisk and my sweaty clothes felt like an enclosed icebox around me. As I went to change into something warmer, I decided to liven things up with our own special edition of Parents Gone Wild and do a little striptease in our secluded grotto.

I got as far as taking my shirt off when Jamie, staring behind me at the fractured road, evenly said, “Amber, there’s a man over there.”

Yeah, right. That Hunky Hubby is always trying to freak me out.

But then I heard someone from the road shout “Hello!”

Now, I don’t know if you’ve ever been caught mid-striptease and think you know how you would react. Fortunately, I did not whip around in shock. Jamie said I froze, eventually grabbed a pile of clothes and enclosed them around my chest like an ill-fitting glove. And then freaked out.

I expect my little performance will be coming to a YouTube near you sometime soon.

In Getting Back to Nature Part II, journey with us to a mystical cliff beneath the stars, in a tent with puke and to a celebrity-like encounter where I am the celebrity….

Canyonlands Moab

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog

My good friend Tina recently announced to me that her husband Mark dropped a bombshell on her. Inwardly, I panicked. Just what kind of bombshell? Death? Terminal illness? Job loss?

“He says we’re not taking any more vacations without the kids.”

The granddaddy of all bombshells.

I am pleased to announce that Jamie and I are running for shelter from our little stink bombs early Friday morning. We are going backpacking in one of my favorite destinations from my travel writing daze: Moab, Utah. This glorious long weekend for two will include sleeping on the hard ground, hauling 40 pounds on our back and hocking up a lung on the trail. Because I, of course, am not completely cured of my latest ailment.

And because that is our idea of fun….

Photo attribution: NCS

Travel Moab Backpacking Mom Blog

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog

For a classic Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck post, I am also over at Crazy Hip Blog Mamas today.

In a shocking turn of events, PamperingBeki and Melissa have simultaneously awarded me with a Thinking Blog Award. Yes, that would be two people who think I…welp…think.

Hunky Hubby summarized it best when I told him and he observed, “A thinker? Since when?”

And he is allegedly my biggest fan.

And so now it is my turn to tag five other blogs that have made me think (which as we’ve already seen is no small task).

1) Celebrating a Life. Damselfly recently started this little inspirational gem.

2) For What It’s Worth. Has recently traveled a long, hard road and is seeing the light at the end of the tunnel.

3) Hot Fruita Mom. From rivoting American idol commentary to “Good Mail” to Bollywood and beyond…

4) Sharp Mama. Sarcastic Canuck raising a family in Thailand.

5) The Smiling Infidel/ElasticWaistBandLady. Best commenter ever. If her name doesn’t make you think, I don’t know what will….

P.S. Yep, I closed comments this time so stop emailing me that my post is broken. Sometimes I just like to live dangerously like this. So go and check out all the fun links I included!

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog

I have reacted differently to the massacre at Virginia Tech than I have over other senseless tragedies. With Columbine, I was enraged at the perpetrators and mourned for the victims.

This time however, my point of view has changed. Instead of focusing the entirety of my attentions upon those people who lost their lives, I have also grieved for those who remained. Not only the families of the victims but for the family of the shooter. Theirs is the biggest burden to bear: an innocent family described as kind and quiet who tried to get help for their troubled son but who will be ostracized and left to live with society’s rage.

A recent talk by James E. Faust changed my perspective. He spoke of the Amish and how last October, a 32-year-old milk truck driver suddenly lost all reason and control. In his tormented mind he blamed God for the death of his first child and some unsubstantiated memories. He stormed into the Amish school without any provocation, released the boys and adults, and tied up the 10 girls. He shot the girls, killing five and wounding five. Then he took his own life.

This shocking violence caused great anguish among the Amish but no anger. There was hurt but no hate. Their forgiveness was immediate. Collectively they began to reach out to the milkman’s suffering family. As the milkman’s family gathered in his home the day after the shootings, an Amish neighbor came over, wrapped his arms around the father of the dead gunman, and said, “We will forgive you.”

Amish leaders visited the milkman’s wife and children to extend their sympathy, their forgiveness, their help, and their love. About half of the mourners at the milkman’s funeral were Amish. In turn, the Amish invited the milkman’s family to attend the funeral services of the girls who had been killed. A remarkable peace settled on the Amish as their faith sustained them during this crisis.

Hearing of this tragedy, many people sent money to the Amish to pay for the health care of the five surviving girls and for the burial expenses of the five who were killed. As a further demonstration of their discipleship, the Amish decided to share some of the money with the widow of the milkman and her three children because they too were victims of this terrible tragedy.

One local resident very eloquently summed up the aftermath of this tragedy when he said, “We were all speaking the same language, and not just English, but a language of caring, a language of community, [and] a language of service. And, yes, a language of forgiveness.”

So let it be done….

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog