The Wild West

Today is my anniversary. Coincidentally, it is also Big Shot Husband's anniversary. We got married 12 years ago. Today. For me, it's been nothing but wedded bliss. For him. . .you'll have to ask him yourself.

As a result of said anniversary, we gave my parents the gift of not only paying for the wedding 12 years ago which I believe cost A LOT of money, they are watching our children (yay) while we are taking a side trip to a hot state in the Southwest to visit friends. It is hot here. Like 100 degrees. At 10 PM. (Not yay).

So I awoke this morning, in a lovely mood just like every other morning, sat up, and immediately experienced excruciating pain in my neck. No, the irony is not lost on me. Yes, I know Big Shot Husband should have experienced the pain in HIS neck. Haha.

We decided to drive two hours to a well-known tourist destination chock full of red rocks, psychics, crystals and the like.  I was solely interested in taking an off-road Jeep tour. On our way into town, Big Shot Husband was temporarily detained by the lure of the Gap outlet where he bought himself a new wardrobe. Hm.

Finally, we got into town and ran to the nearest shopfront with a sign saying, "If you are a tourist and want a Jeep ride, come here." I squealed, "That's us, honey!" Except I didn't squeal and I didn't say "honey." The guy recommended a certain tour company which offers the "Little Rattler" tour (this is for people who don't want to do death defying Jeep rides down sheer cliffs on the "Big Scary Giant Rattlesnake" tour), and we bought tickets. Except first he asked us questions about our health: Any recent surgeries? No. Pregnant? G-d no! Back Problems? No. Neck problems? No, I said to myself, except when I woke up and couldn't move my head to either side this morning, but I have taken six Advil and the pain is at least 10% diminished now. So I just told him no.

We trotted off to the Jeep lot and ran into some of our best family friends from back home. How weird is that? Not as weird as when we met the friends for a drink later and a Chassidishe couple from Brooklyn (he with the bekishe, perfectly curled peyos and she with the black synthetic outfit, black synthetic sheitel and hat on top) asked Big Shot Husband to take a picture of them and thanked him in Yiddish.

Anyway, I digress. Here we were at the Jeep place and the lady again asked all the health questions. Back problems, pregnancy, surgery, neck problems. Nope, nope, nope, nope. Except my neck hurt like the dickens but I was determined to get that back canyon Jeep tour. So off we went.

Our tour guide, let's call him John Wayne, informed us on the way out of town that he was a great grandfather. Yes. And he was about to drive us up a really scary mountainy, cliffy, canyony thing in a totally open vehicle. But he was wearing cowboy boots, jeans, western shirt and cowboy hat so his street cred was good. Also, the arthritis in his hands didn't look too bad.

Then he informed us that lots of snakes reside up where we were headed. Rattlesnakes, apparently, are born live, like humans, and baby rattlers use all their venom when they bite because they haven't learned that biting with all their venom will leave them venomless and, hence, foodless for two weeks.

Then John Wayne proceeded to tell us that his wife was bitten by a baby one (!) and went to two hospitals and had 14 vials of anti-venom stuff and was in ICU for days and then was discharged with a $30,000 medical bill. OK.

He drove us all around, totally off-roading, and stopped periodically to show us all the ways one can get hurt and/or killed in the vast desert.

"You can survive no more than three days out here without water," said John Wayne. I looked to the right. All I saw were rocks, dirt and very sharp plants. I couldn't look to the left because my neck hurt too much. I was hoping he wouldn't leave us up there. I reminded myself to laugh very hard at his jokes.

"You do not need a license to carry, shoot or conceal a gun in the state of Arizona," said John Wayne. That sounded cool. Big Shot Husband asked if he was, "Packing heat," on our tour. I was embarrassed except that I reminded myself that as a nerdy Jewish guy who had just outfitted himself at the Gap a mere hour earlier he just couldn't help himself. John Wayne said he "only" carried his .45 up here. Oh. He advised that if we had any machloches with another driver in Arizona to just let it go because most are armed. Except he didn't say machloches.

We were also informed that you could ride any kind of crazy vehicle on the off-road dirt paths with no helmet (if you were over 16) and do any kind of crazy thing you'd want to out there in the desert period. Except all there is up there, to my understanding, are deadly animals, scary sharp plants and rocky bumpy crevices/canyons/I don't know whats. And it's a million degrees. With no shade. I was ready to go shop. But first we had to do a lot of bumpy off-roading. My neck hurt. A lot. I also held on to Big Shot Husband's arm very hard. I think he has a bruise.

Finally, we were back on the paved highway close-ish to town. John Wayne said, "It's startin' to rain. We have to try to outrun the storm." Oh, I thought, good idea. But John Wayne meant that we should drive 100 miles an hour on a 25 mph road. And not always on the right side of it. I dug my nails into Big Shot Husband's arm again. Stressful. Finally, we were going a normal speed on a normal road with no rain (go John Wayne) and were almost back to town. John Wayne told us we'd have to bring our children next time because he was, "sure they would love dirt biking down the steep cliffs up there." Yeah. My frail Ashkenazi children would totally not love that. At all.

And then we got the phone call. "Mommeeeeeee!!!" wails from Eva. "I can't believe you made me take swimming lessons at Grandma's" Sob sob sob shriek. "The teacher was sooooo strict and mean!!" You see, I signed them up for two weeks of swim lessons while visiting my family and today was the first day, when I am away in a sunny Southwestern state.

I look around and take in the beautiful sights. The rocks, the sky, the scenery, all so different from where I'd ever been. And somehow, that voice just brought me right back to reality in two seconds flat. Pes gets on and says, "The lessons are too easy, Mommy, I don't want to do them. Please don't make me." Sniff sniff. Gorby, "Hi Mommy, I played on the babysitter's phone." He didn't do lessons, guess he had fun and he is not causing any problems for five minutes.

Finally, dear Zsa Zsa gets on, but before she can speak, I say, "Zsa Zsa, come on, Mommy really can't do anything about the swimming from here. Ask Grandma," I sigh exasperatedly, "I mean, you know I can't help you, currently I am in a hot Southwestern state where it is 110 degrees in the shade." Zsa Zsa says, "Mommy, I wasn't going to complain. I liked the swimming lessons. I just wanted to say I miss you and love you soooo much." My darling Zsa Zsa. I am the Worst Mother Ever.