r.i.p. 'big margy'

This past weekend, I ditched reality & headed to Lake Powell for the weekend with the fam. We have been going to Lake Powell since I was 7 or 8 and looming over all of our heads was the fact that this could possibly be the last trip to the lake we will take before my Dad sells our boat, 'Big Margy' at the end of the summer.

In the past, when we have ventured to Lake Powell, we’ve usually stayed on our houseboat, “Rainbow Sunrise” (yah, I know, what a name!), but occasionally we opt out of “roughing it” and lodge at the Ticaboo hotel instead. My family and I lovingly refer to the Ticaboo lodge as hotel “take-a-poo” And that pretty much sums up the kind of town Ticaboo is. Nonetheless, the people are friendly, the showers are sort of clean, the tumble weed tumbles, and the sandwiches are to-die-for.

Unfortunately, due to his work schedule, husband G couldn't’t join us, so I shared a room with Ryan, Christy and K sweetheart. One morning, before any of us had woken up, we heard a knock on the door of our hotel room. Let me first explain that I can be a less-than-friendly person before the hour of 7:00 am. And although I try not to be, saying I am SORT OF a night owl is like saying my dog, Jack, SORT OF likes to lick faces.

So, when a dangerous physcopath began knocking on our door in the wee hours of the morning, I was too tired to take action & simply ignored it. The knocking, however, was soon replaced by the sound of someone OPENING THE DOOR AND COMING INTO THE ROOM and in that moment, every irrational nightmare I have had in the last year suddenly rushed into my brain as I tried to un-glue my body from the bed & look for a weapon. A weapon, a weapon, what could be used as a weapon? And I have to save the young pups. They are too small to fend for themselves. How will I shield them as I fight with my weapon? Should I hide them in the closest first? What if they bark too loudly and give away their position? I'll need to arm them with a weapon of their own....

Wait, this is Ticaboo. And my pups are home with G. And I am insane.

I am not kidding. This is how my brain works when you wake me up too early. Just let me sleep.

K sweetheart, of course, remained calm & left me to freak out on my own, to simply go see who was at the door. He was confused to see someone open it, peek inside and then close it again, but his severe morning brain prevented him from actually DOING ANYTHING, so he simply turned to me and muttered something about “my worse nightmare” at the door with a gun or maybe it was a broom, and crawled back in bed. Minutes later, the door opened again…and then closed…and then opened…and then closed. And by this time, the night owl in me was getting annoyed. I peeled my eyelids open and stumbled to the door to fight off the intruder. This was my moment. My one chance in life to be brave, and I was ready to accept the challenge. I made it to the battle ground & threw it open the door, ready to attack, only to find the complete opposite of my worst nightmare staring back at me.

An old, tiny, frail woman looked up at me as curiously as I looked down on her. We both stood there for a moment, facing off across the door way, when I finally managed to put together a coherent sentence.

“Did you need something?”

The tiny woman looked up at me and said with a heavy accent, “No, I vas jus checking if you needed something.”

Hmmm. The sun hasn't come up yet. And I am in my hotel room. At the Ticaboo lodge. Do I need anything? No, no, I think I'm good. K, Do you need anything? How about a warm towel or a TV guide, either of those float your boat?

I must be dreaming.

But I wasn't. So I told her that, No, we didn't need anything, and if she could kindly venture back to her room & stop knocking on our door, it would be greatly appreciated. Thanks, cutie Mc cute face.

And this is the kind of stuff that happens to us in Lake Powell.

Lake Powell. Where the weather is so hot, it melts everyone’s brains into a liquidity goo that slides down your legs and squishes into your shoes. I could spend hours telling you stories of the things that have happened to us not only in Ticaboo & Lake Powell, but on our way to and from the lake. Stories about bats in our hotel room, and rats in the restaurants, and food poisoning and gas poisoning and speeding tickets. Stories about a broken arm and strep of the fingers and stitches in the middle of the night, Ryan's cut off finger and several trips to the emergency room. Storms so big we had to tie everything down and the night we loaded everything from our boat to the houseboat in complete darkness. Stories about jumping off cliffs and the rat my brother shot with a shotgun and wilber the duck who visited me every morning. Cartwheels down a mountain, a hot tub and a volleyball court that we built in the sand and the millions of shooting stars that I watched dance across the sky.

I’ll miss you 'Big Margy'. Thanks for the last 12 yrs.