BugFrog

LilF and I have gotten into discussions about superpowers. If we could have any, what would they be? The discussion started with what one superpower would you want, and has grown to 3 powers, just to make it interesting. I think he has increased the number to make the conversation last longer, and to try to draw me out of my reserved shell.
We’ve been talking about this for about two years, and I am amazed at how his wishes have evolved and how sophisticated his powers are becoming. They used to be things like “I want to be able to turn rocks into black beans so we can eat them.” or “Make stuffed animals come to life.” or even “Make dull time go fast and fun time go slow.”
I like to ask him what he would do with his powers. How would he apply his amazing ability to the world we live in? His answers are always interesting and rarely the same, so I’m sure he considers these things for days at a time. “I’d turn all the rocks around a bully into beans and he’d get stuck, then when the ants ate the beans, he could go free.” “I’d send out the stuffed animals to be waiters so we don’t have to wait so long at restaurants.” “I’d make our breakfast last all day.”
I love that there is a logical structure to it all, but it’s new. It’s his own net logic where things are loosely coupled, related but not permanently linked, and fluid within a structure. When I don’t pick up on the structure, I get lectured that I am not paying attention, and I shouldn’t be so rude. It’s not being rude, you are just talking crazy, Professor Xavier. Move on to the next power. Sometimes I can’t help but ask odd questions just to be a moron. He gets so mad.
Now, they are getting abstract. “i want to make anything stick together.” “I want to be able to eat with my belly button.” I won’t tell his most recent because he’ll write that on his own blog, and I really couldn’t do it justice. It’s amazingly complicated and techy, so I just beam with pride every time he tells me and it gets more and more elaborate.
Since we’re talking about it, here are my chosen powers:
First, and the most lasting one for me is to be able to speak and understand any language. I use the term language loosely as any form of communication between beings. And to understand is to grasp and process the meaning and intent of the speaker, not just translate the words. Grasp the cultural tone and richness that saturates our ways of communication. Truly connect and communicate. That would be fun, and would make travel easier.
Second power, hands down is being able to fly. Up up and away and all that jazz. Weak, I know. Screw it. I want to fly. Fast. High. Loops and rolls. Blast through clouds, and dive through hurricanes. Watch an all day sunset, or run from sunrise until I see tomorrow. The day I can fly don’t expect me to be in town for a few days. I’m going to go talk to people, and tell them I can fly.
Third power for some reason has to be the ability to shoot marshmallows out of the palms of my hands. Ironman has jets, Spiderman has webs, and Yoda has the force. I want marshmallow shooters. Not high powered ones, just 5 to 10 feet maybe. And they would make that fun Pop sound when they come out too. Imagine talking with someone and Pop! Right in the forehead. Driving in traffic and someone cruises past Pop! In their car window. Flying next to a jet liner and roasting a few in the engine for the trip home. So much fun.
Oh well, unless LilF gets the power to distribute superpowers, I guess I’m stuck with my one unique ability- finding the exact wrong topic to bring up with new people I meet. But that’s another story.

I admit it. I am nervous.

I have never been on a ranch before. I have absolutely never been on a Dude ranch before. When I was in 2nd grade, we moved from the city to the country, right next to a 5 acre ranchlet that would get 2 or 3 baby cows each summer. I told my dad I was amazed at the size of the dogs in our new neighborhood. They must have had a different ranch for the adult cows, because after the first summer, we wouldn’t see them anymore. I think the big cows must have picked on the little ones, so this was cow pre-school.

Horses are different. I know all about them. I’ve been watching the Preakness since I was little. I’m from Maryland, you know. Can’t wait to see the jockeys in their bright outfits. BTW, no matter how many times you type it, Preakness never looks right. Anyway, horses are second nature to me. Jousting is the state sport in Maryland (although Lacrosse is the state TEAM sport, which was a pretty brilliant move, too). They no longer joust by knocking opponents off of their flying ostrich, but by riding a horse and putting a stick through a tiny suspended ring. Whoever the marketing team was that sold that package must have gotten a HUGE bonus. Amazing.

I am still nervous. I’m not sure what will happen at this dude ranch. I’ve seen City Slickers, but will I really be able to hack it? I’d love to just get put in a field and chop wood all day. That would be fun. I’m a good wood chopper. My favorite weapon is a battle axe, and if they don’t mind me drawing little orcs on the ends off all the wood, I’ll be happy as a Level 34 forester.

We’re going to Black Mountain Ranch. (@blackmtnranch) It’s a family run ranch near Vail and Steamboat Springs. They say our trip includes “unlimited horseback riding, an overnight pack trip, a longhorn cattle drive, whitewater rafting, fly and spin fishing, rifle and trap shooting, a trip to a local rodeo and so much more.” Cowboys had the life, for sure. Watching cows is great for the first month or so, but after that, they get to do all that other stuff. I’m sort of hoping the “more” part is some sleep after all that and the wood chopping. I’d love to be able to bring all my friends from around the country, meet up for a cattle drive, and then go home with a baby cow as a pet. Just kidding! That sounds like a script from some goofy movie with Ray Romano riding a motorcycle or something. Does sound fun though. Not the cow as a pet part. Those things are MESSY.

When I was growing up, my dad had a huge garden next to where the ranchlet cows lived, and every morning towards the middle of summer, he would go to the garden, pull out some weeds or plants that had already fruited, and give them to the cows. By the end of the summer and into harvest season (also known as child slave labor season), he would have tons of stuff for those pudgy moos, and every morning as soon as the sun would start to peak out from the horizon, those cows would be mooing like crazy at the fence, waiting for Dad to bring them some treats. Tomatoes, Brussels sprouts stalks, corn, cabbage, peas, whatever we had too much of. We had too much of a lot of stuff. The first year, Dad planted 52 tomato plants. 52. Do you know how many tomatoes comes off one tomato plant? We had 52. There are only 5 people in my family, and at the time, only 3 of them liked tomatoes. Mom learned how to can that first year, and 12 years later when we moved, we still had tomatoes from that first year in our larder. Dad gave tomatoes to everyone we knew every day. People would hide from him to avoid having to take more tomatoes.

“Hey Bob! Want some tomatoes?”

“Um…thanks, Carroll. I’ve got enough for a while. That last batch was so um…robust.”

“That’s what’s so great about fresh garden tomatoes. Robust flavor. Does your wife can?”

After a few years he got a handle on the whole quantity thing, but we still had more than enough to keep the cows coming back day after day. By the time fall came around, Dad would walk out into the yard and moo, and they would come running like Disney puppies to a milk bowl, except over 1,000 lbs each with rough sticky tongues. It was like being the son of Dr. Moolittle. Other kids could brag about their dads, but my dad was the hero of the biggest animals in our world. You should have seen the way they swooned at him with their big brown eyes and inch long eyelashes. Pure love. Sure it was love of the food he gave them, but love is love, wherever you find it. He loved those cows, for sure.

Maybe I’ve got the blood of a cowboy in me, after all. Hopefully my dad will look down on me, take pity on my sorry city ass, and guide me through the John Wayne plains of doubt into the Jack Palance palace of wisdom. No matter what, I’m looking forward to this trip like no other. All the above has been about me, my dad, and those cows, but this trip will be about being with Aimee and our son. Our urban son with his Nintendo 3DS and iPhone apps. Us with our Apple umbilical cords. And cows.

If he ever looks at me like I looked at my dad, at least for one day, I’ll be able to say “I am a cowboy.”