June
23 2019
A
couple days of hiking and the weather, coupled with massive altitude headaches
and dryness meant a slower awakening again.
We ate a basic breakfast, with Rosa
de Guadalupe on the television.
That series is kind of like a Latin Twilight Zone where
horrendous crap happens to someone, then someone else prays, a wind blows, a
white rose appears and the Virgin miraculously makes everything better…or at
least nominally less horrendously crappy.
We
headed out on the day’s adventure before seeing how the miracle of the incontinent
boy played out.
Anabelle
picked a fuzzy and blue hat to combat the chilled air.
Ooh,
mountains out the car window!!!
I
always forget and get surprised
We’re
easily distracted.
We
went to morning mass, and then met up with Titi and Uncle Roy at a Peruvian
Buffet downtown. There was much Peruvian
buffeting, and then we split up.
They took Abuelita home and we drove back in the more wilderness direction to go to the Morrison Museum we didn’t have time to get back to the day before.
They took Abuelita home and we drove back in the more wilderness direction to go to the Morrison Museum we didn’t have time to get back to the day before.
Everyone
got that?
As
always with this small but amazing hands-on, working paleontology museum, we
learned some cool new stuff, increasing our educationalness.
Kevin,
the Apatosaurus Ajax bones they had been excavating since before our first
visit to Colorado came from the first one ever discovered of that sub
species!
The
famous world’s smallest stegosaur tracks were found in Dinosaur Ridge!
A
full grown pteranodon (eighteen foot wingspan) only weighted seven to eight
pounds!
The
young snakes they only acquired the previous year were named Wiggles and
Squiggles.
Well,
maybe not everything was amazing.
In
the working room, Kevin’s rock formation had been split into sections and they
were also working on getting allosaur bones out of it.
On
another pile of glue and plaster from Wyoming, our guide from the tour last
year was working on cleaning out the specimens. Anabelle continued her tradition of working on the same fossil extraction for the past eight years.
In
one more moment of meeting my past self in a dinosaur place, it was nifty
seeing a little boy on the tour who knew all the dinosaurs’ and other extinct
creatures’ names.
We
picked up a couple things in the gift shop. I got a Carnegie amargasaurus based
on Anabelle noting A) You can never have too many sauropods, and B) it looks
like he has hippie dreadlocks.
That’s
my girl.
Rosa
got a new dinosaur period identification mug, to help her understand us…in some
cases.
Anabelle
picked out a little glass “flappy ray” which taught us all a lesson. They wrapped it super well to protect it in
transit. Therefore when it was placed in
the pile of souvenirs and receipts when I came home, it looked like a pile of
scrap paper and we have no idea where it ended up. This was predestined as when I looked online for a
replacement for her birthday, I got the last one in stock of “Stanley the
Stingray.”
After
the tour, I asked about the gastroliths contradictions I ran into the previous year. The guide told us they did know
about the paper that I assume the other museum was basing their ideas on, but
Dr. Bakker said it wasn’t conclusive and just because the stone shapes didn’t
match current ones, it doesn't provide a better explanation.
She
was going to check with him next time he was in, but it sounded conclusive
enough for me.
Once
again, one degree of separation from Doctor Bakker easily beats a volunteer with
an unspecified “they told us to say…”
We’d
seen a new walking trail advertised behind the museum and it was early enough
to check it out. It zig zagged up
through a large field in back of the place, providing views of various
formation formed mountains all around.
There were multiple copies of the same sign with the different ridges
highlighted. It felt kind of like walking through a giant pop-up book.
We’re
hysterical and educational to have around.
There
were a couple of spiky flowers deserving of photographs before we reached the
end of the path at Mount Falcon’s Eastern Trailhead. (That’s the one we didn't park at last year,
for anyone who is genuinely paying attention to any of this foolishness.)
Rosa’s toes and Anabelle’s teenagerness had enough walking for one day, and they sent
me back down the trail to get the car.
Fortunately, I could see where I had to go, since the altitude, solitude
and local herbs clouded Siri’s mind to the point she decided staying at the
museum was the closest possible point to the trailhead parking lot halfway up
the mountain.
On
the way to pick them up, I correctly predicted they’d need a visit to
Yogurtland before we went home.
Given
their predilection for that location, I think the spiky flowers could have made
the same prediction.
Anabelle
was thrilled to find the Blueberry Lavender flavor was there. Rosa was less
enthusiastic, stating it tasted like “Poo Pourie.”
We’re
all hysterical.
We
stopped at Target for…um… not to check out the giant retro Mego collection.
However, since that’s what I did, I have no idea why we went there. Considering the disaster of reused parts that
led to a brown Lizard head on a Klingon body for the original Gorn, the new one
was awesome. That quality was not
maintained across the board, as Richie Cunningham had brown hair.
We
needed to drive west, due to an earlier declaration.
Rosa
and Anabelle were quite full of all of their favorites from the Peruvian
Buffet. However, after being told about
the size and variety offered that would easily address my tastes and health requirements,
that afternoon, I witnessed a much smaller than expected, cream sauce covered
selection.
I
took one look at the buffet and, in a tone that has only been equaled by my
Mother upstate New York stating she was not eating at ****ing Howard Johnsons, declared,
“I'm AM eating at ****ing El Rancho.”
Anabelle
and Rosa came along to offer support and eat some fantastic sides as a snack. I
got some surprise green beans that none of us ordered, which were
excellent. Anabelle wanted apple juice,
but the waitress, who also explained why they were closed Saturday (a wedding),
explained they didn't serve apple juice.
This
was odd since Anabelle had it on every previous and subsequent visit.
On
the drive home, accompanied by the dancing styles of Pigeon once again, I made
the “Look out! Mountain!” joke I make every time we passed Lookout Mountain.
So,
I'm not always hysterical, but at least I’m predictable.
A
much better joke was accidental. A large
truck was going twenty-five miles an hour on the high speed western highway; I
came up on it around a curve and yelled “JESUS!” Since we were passing the Cabrini Shrine at
the point, Anabelle and Rosa pointed to the hilltop and said, “Yup, there he
is.”
See?
Hysterical.
We
stopped to get gas, but mostly so I could pose next to the appropriate sign
wearing my “Something strange is afoot at the Circle K” t-shirt.
Returning
home there was a bit of chatting with Hope the bunny and the requisite hot tub
Disney World trivia. While we backed up pictures on the computer during the
chatting, we searched around for something to watch, and discovered a bunch of
Godzilla movies that remained hidden in the previous night’s attempt.
With
the exception of a panicked dash back to the pool to confirm Anabelle’s watch
was still there (behind a locked gate) we had an entertaining night sharing the
far more awesome than its production values should allow Godzilla vs Megalon.
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