Clueless Emma

Yee-haw, y'all! Cowgirl up! I feel a night of line dancin' comin' on!

Men are pigs.

Of 2,000 married men polled...almost a third said it would spice up their sex life and 19 per cent reckoned plastic surgery could save their marriage.

Over 35 per cent of men said they would never tell their wife she needed plastic surgery as she would be too offended but 17 per cent said they would approach her because she might be open to their suggestions.

Over a third of blokes were so keen for their wife to go under the knife, they were prepared to pay for it...[but] three quarters of chaps said they would never go under the knife to save their marriage or to spice up their sex life.

Top 10 cosmetic procedures men want wives to have:

1 Liposuction on tummy - 37 per cent

2 Liposuction on legs - 25 per cent

3 Breast enlargement - 22 per cent

4 Breast reduction / uplift - 19 per cent

5 Liposuction on arms - 18 per cent

6 Teeth whitening - 15 per cent

7 Face lift - 13 per cent

8 Neck lift -10 per cent

9 Nose job - 9 per cent

10 Bum implants - 6 per cent

Bum implants? Really??

Ask women what we'd change. Go ahead. I dare ya.

Lessons from the dog park

Running along the winding bike paths out at Minto Brown park is cathartic. Oh, it’s also painful and wheezy, with my body out of shape and my allergies in full bloom--but the lazy landscape lush with new crops in rich dark brown dirt and thickets of berries and the birds’ joyous hymns cleanse my soul. Turbo is tireless, glancing impatiently at me when I run too slowly to suit his druthers.

 

Among the lighter elements of this catharsis—a few lessons I’ve learned--I have seen:

1) The silhouette of a family of Dad, Mom, Boy, Girl—trailing into the sunset, fishing poles over their shoulders.

 

Lesson learned: There are still whole, complete families out there. Maybe it is still an attainable dream.

 

2) A middle-aged woman in blue denim overalls, hair a mess, on a very quiet, out of the way trail, dabbing her eyes as she walked.

 

          Lesson learned: I’m not the only one crying.

 

3) Children running unchecked in the dog park—possibly through waste and mess and at the mercy of all unleashed dogs.

 

                                           Lesson learned: Some parents really do not get it.

 

4) Unfamiliar dogs approach each other—stand stiff, look to the side, sniff each other, wag tails, then nonchalantly continue down the trail.

 

Lesson learned: Be polite, even when out of your comfort zone—but be wary.

 

And just from my own experience: chewing gum while running requires sticking it way back behind your teeth when close to the creek. Gnats travel in big ol’ swarms, and believe me, when you have to take a breath in the middle of one, you really don’t want a wad of gum in the middle of your mouth!

 

OVERHEARD ON FOX NEWS CHANNEL FROM THE OTHER ROOM

A bill is in the works to refuse restaurant service to obese people?

WHAT????

Okay, lemme get this straight--it is illegal to discriminate against gays and lesbians by not renting homes to them, it is illegal to discriminate against someone because of their skin and, supposedly, religion, and it's illegal to discriminate against an employee because she is not a man, but someone feels it's appropriate to allow restaurants to turn away fat people?

The day I have to step on a scale to enter a restaurant or have a bouncer at the door tell me I'm too fat...

I'M AGAINST A NANNY STATE, BUT TRULY, WHEN IT COMES TO HIKERS IN SNOW, BY GOLLY, USE YOUR BRAINS. CARRY THE DEVICES! PERHAPS NOT MANDATORY, BUT REQUIRE A WAIVER OF ALL RESCUE EFFORTS IF REFUSED.

The latest Mount Hood rescue effort to find a pair of climbers who failed to show up at Timberline Lodge Monday has highlighted the debate over the Mt. Hood Locator Unit.

The unit, not much bigger than a cell phone, was developed after a May 1986 hiking tragedy that claimed the lives of nine students and staff from the Oregon Episcopal School who were trapped by bad weather during an annual hike.

The units send a radio signal that search teams can use to triangulate the rough coordinates of lost climbers. The device is sewn into a thick strap and worn across the torso or inside a backpack. When activated, it sends out a radio signal. Searchers on Mount Hood are equipped with special receivers programmed to pick up the signal, which can extend as far as five miles but is affected by natural obstructions such as cliffs.

"It's pretty much line of sight," said veteran climber Steve Rollins of Portland Mountain Rescue. "If we can see it, we can receive it."

But someone still has to call authorities to alert them of the missing person, or no one will look for the signal, Rollins said.

"Activating a mountain locator unit does not activate a rescue for you," he said. "And it certainly doesn't guarantee that we can get to you."

The units became a subject of debate after three other climbers -- Brian Hall, Jerry "Nikko" Cooke and Kelly James -- went missing last year while climbing Mount Hood. Their fate became a national story as blizzardlike conditions pinned searchers near the timberline for days.

None of the men had an MLU, though James had a cell phone that he used to call his family from a snow cave near the summit where his body was found. All three died on the mountain.

Somerescue groups and climbers are wary of making the units mandatory. "Sometimes it gives people a false sense of security," said Todd Wells, a searcher with the Hood River Crag Rats.

Wells also questioned the MLU's effectiveness. He was one of the rescuers using a receiver Sunday to track the signal emitted from the party's MLU. "It was like a needle in a haystack," he said.

Other distress beacons are also available, including avalanche transceivers that can send and receive signals.

More recently, personal locator beacons have become available. They're similar to those carried by ships or airplanes, and communicate with satellites. They send out a distress signal along with a location, but cost about $500.

At minimum, experts advise people heading into the backcountry to a carry a cell phone, compass, maps and a global positioning system unit. And they should know how to use them.

JANUARY DOG PARK

Yesterday blossomed into an Oregon sunshiney moment, during which I was so overcome with guilt at being fat and lazy for the past several months, and keeping poor Turbo from his daily run, that we bundled up and headed for the dog park. This is a great expanse of marshland set aside for dogs to run free, as well as miles (or so it seems!) of paths to accomodate walkers and joggers. I ended up shedding layers, as it was at least 50 degrees out, but still quite chilly. We just escaped the return of rain as we climbed back into the car.
I don't know exactly how far my daughter (Tough Cookie) and I walked, but it was far enough that we both had sore hips, knees, and tummies--a pretty good walk. I'd rather run than walk, but I was quite satisfied with our level of exertion yesterday--certainly better than the zero level I've been expending lately.

Turbo was ecstatic! At the point we turned back, the path was completely under water, but it didn't stop The Man. He just jumped in and hopped like a bunny. Needless to say, he got a bath when we got home, so now he smells wonderful and I can't stop snuffling and kissing him.

Turbo is great off-leash. He runs ahead, circles back, checks to make sure I'm following, then runs back up the path. He covers at least 3 times as much ground as I do. Squirrels get chased back up their trees, birds are informed that they do not rule the ground. I think it's a public service he performs--after all, if squirrels, which are EVERYWHERE in the Capitol City, don't realize they are wild animals, they are vulnerable to become prey and squished by cars. Turbo deserves a reward for his efforts.

BLACKBERRY BRAMBLES

Since I'm under the weather and longing for a tan, the smell of fresh bark mulch warming in the sun, and a good healthy run, I figured I'll share a post from summer, several years ago.

Last night I went running at around 8:30 pm.    The heavy scent of freshly mown grass and early blackberry blossoms hung heavy along the path that snakes its way out of town. It has been a while since I ran--a couple of weeks, at least--and I could feel the weight of inactivity lingering in my feet and lungs.

Usually, I run a 3 mile route straight out through pasture land and back with my ever-energetic boxer, Josie. She's ten years old this November--right at the peak of her estimated longevity--but still going strong. We must be a sight, the two of us. Nearing 40 (AGHHH) I know I don't look like the 20-somethings running around in their short-shorts and tanks, looking perky and fresh. I'm well-aware that, having given birth twice and lived twice as long, my body is not as agile, blemish-free or attractive as it used to be.

About half way out--must have been around a mile--I stopped to walk. I've been less motivated to work out lately, and this week, especially, physical and emotional issues have been draining my energy. I was thinking, really, about how old I am this year and how much harder it is for my body to recover from workouts. About ten years ago I went to a chiropractor for an adjustment to my spine--I have constant pain in my neck and lower back--lately between my shoulder blades. I used to high jump (state champ 83) and play all sports without a care for safety--co-ed flag football in the Army left me with whiplash that has never really gone away. The chiropractor told me a decade ago that if I didn't quit running, I would have trouble walking in my 40s. I'm 38 in August.

What struck me deeply, as I struggled for breath and kneaded my sore back, is the awesome beauty of God's country. It is when I'm out and running and breathing the air (hay fever and all) that God gently reminds me of His power, His sense of majesty, His tender touch of glorious artistry.

I am a blackberry bush. Have you ever seen one? They are a local pest, often tilled over and poisoned to make way for less painful plants...but oh, the memories I have as a child, covered with its staining juices; blowing off the bugs before popping them in my mouth; picking old margerine tubs-full to make blackberry cobbler. Blackberry time was also when Grandma came to visit.

I am a blackberry bush. In order to harvest the fragrant, sweet fruit, one has to know the secret--wear long sleeves and pants and prepare to be scratched. Brambles overlie brambles, creating dense, enigmatic tunnels where, inevitably, the hugest, most juicy berries hang in taunting safety.

I am a blackberry bush. God has given us all the ability to have a stinging tongue and a sometimes defensive attitude, and I am no exception. Many don't take the time to make it through the brambles, but when someone does, the sweet, giving, very tender-hearted part of me rejoices and the brambles recede. As Paul waxed, oh would that I could be bramble-free and share willingly with the world what my heart yearns to give. Patience, as we know, is a virtue. It will take someone richly blessed with it to withstand my scratches.

Romans 7:18  For I know that in me (that is, in my flesh,) dwelleth no good thing: for to will is present with me; but how to perform that which is good I find not.