Ghastly Garmins
Long-term recipients of our holiday letter have endured stories year over year recalling tales of us being lost somewhere. We blame dated maps, changing terrain, unreadable signs, weather gods. Anything but ourselves. These tidings offer our admission that I’ve uncovered the common element connecting all of our lostness…Jody. Jody is the One.
For our bike trip through Portugal this year with five of our besties, Jody decided we would not get lost. She embraced a surefire solution founded upon robust technology, the Global Positioning System or GPS. You have heard of Google Maps? It works great, but to some drivers’ horror, still occasionally routes a semi tractor trailer onto an impassable steep 4-wheel drive narrow mountain road.
The tour company from which we rented bicycles provided Garmin GPS navigators for each rider. This gadget shows your precise location on a map of surrounding roads. It beeps and displays an arrow pointing when you need to make a turn. It tells you the total number of kilometers on your route and the kilometers remaining. It was even rumored to massage your feet at the end of your ride. Guaranteed (as seen on TV), that you cannot get lost with one of these things. Let alone seven of them.
Well, we got lost. Like, not just one time, but several times a day. Every single day. Bicycle travel in Portugal meet your fallible GPS algorithm. Each morning, our group would start our Garmins and you could hear electronic gears engaging as satellites rotated into orbit and route vectors tabulated. We check that are shoes are properly laced and are off like a herd of turtles.
We would start each day rolling down a picturesque cobblestone lane. Very shortly thereafter began a confusing cacophony of digital beeps & agitatedly blinking lights. At an intersection, everyone would veer in a different direction and the comparatively mild digital sounds and lights would be overrun by the sound of tires skidding and car horns blaring. Our group would be in complete chaos not a mile from the start of our ride.
There is no convincing reason that seven identical new GPS units would deliver seven different answers with clear skies and full batteries…except Jody. Her power to MISnavigate simply overrides even the best technology available.
We eventually settled into a rhythm, albeit with a hitch in our giddy up. The only foolproof technique we could find was for each person in line to hold onto the next person in line. We drew many curious stares from locals but after donning matching dark glasses, found we would be dismissed as a troupe of blind bicyclists. Garmin beeps serving as our white canes. We would only “release the leash” once we reached our quarters each night to toast the day, drink superb inexpensive wine, eat sumptuous food, and massage our arms, sore from holding onto our tethers all day long. In this manner, we rode through hundreds of kilometers of country vineyards, cork forests, and quaint villages. We don’t know why the right road cannot find us, but we sure have fun on the wrong ones. Enjoy the smilebox of Portugal!
Conversation Stopper
We have all had the experience of hearing a young child say something in public that is entirely inappropriate. Most of us have covered our smile, when a three-year-old repeats a cuss word they have heard, but hopefully do not yet understand. As we mature, most of us learn to abide by certain “rules of civil society” and not say certain things to strangers. Nonetheless, there is often a fine line between witty and cringeworthy. Occasionally my filters get clogged.
A common question at a party where you don’t know people, is “How do you know so and so?” I decided to switch it up at a recent housewarming party hosted by our close friends. Chatting with strangers, I responded to their polite question about how I knew the hosts, by answering “We think I may be the father of their son.”
Conversation stopped abruptly. Eyes darted furtively. Expressions were a mix of anxious and confused, conveying, “WHAT did he just say???” Except Jody, who is sitting beside me. The sip of wine she has just imbibed is now exploding profusely out her nose. I casually stroll away to grab a Kleenex for Jody and another beer for myself.
Fresh Waffles
We recently made fresh waffles for breakfast for our guest Lori and were enjoying the repast with creamy melted butter and fresh maple syrup. Lori took a bite, spit it out in disgust, choking and gagging, face askew, eyes bugging out, drooling spittle onto the floor.
Lori has used margarine on her waffles. Who the hell would select margarine over butter? Unfortunately for her, she discovered the secret space in our refrigerator (a cubbyhole tucked behind the box of baking soda) just large enough for a small tub of margarine to hide. One might think the vintage margarine container would tip you off that something is wrong. Or noticed a waxy blue glow to the margarine. But no, apparently margarine eaters can’t distinguish colors that well.
The container slithers along the floor trying to avoid being captured but is finally bagged and tagged by the city’s biohazard tech. This well-established colony of bacteria, this settlement of microorganisms, has been developing for over 20 years and proved surprisingly vibrant since our guest endured her breakfast not once, but twice. The essential lesson I took from this event is that baking soda works extremely well absorbing odors.
Sharks in the Water
Belize has a remote island filled with incredible creatures flying in the air, swimming in the sea, scampering and slithering across the land. After arising from our tent each morning, we fill our mugs with freshly brewed coffee and with ocean waves as our soundtrack walk to the bird tower where Red-footed Booby’s nest in the treetops. The sandy path through the jungle moves organically with hundreds of hermit crabs huddling back into their shells as we pass. At treetop level, we observe the Booby birds puffing their red chests and sparring with the pterodactyl-like frigate birds.
Each day, we embark on a tantalizing snorkel exploration straight out of the Nemo movie. At one point while “sailing” our sea kayaks a mile away to a neighboring island, we had a fright. We are novice sailors. Meaning we barely know how to hoist the sail. Forget about knowing how to sail. Little did we know that novices like us are also known as “shark bait.” We are as far from land as you can get, dead center between the islands, when our guide calls out that there is a large hammerhead shark in the water. Really! How is this supposed to be helpful? My first thought is how big? My second is recalling the theme music to Jaws.
That is just about the time a gust of wind topples one of our kayaks. No shit. I often like to imagine how to best respond in difficult situations. Not this time. Not with a hammerhead shark nearby. Not 1/2 mile from shore. I am highly motivated to avoid becoming fish food. Thankfully, the shark must have been on his veggie diet that day. Enjoy the smilebox of Belize!
Jumping Bicycles
We finally tested our mettle on the downhill bike park course at Durango Mesa Park. Carefully avoiding expert bikers who fly over jumps in style, we barely clear the ramps and meekly roll down the drops. Jody pulls aside a large jump and begins taking photos. She captures an awesome image of a cyclist sailing through the sky with the snow covered La Plata Mountain range framed perfectly under his bicycle. Minutes later, she graciously offers to share the image with him. He is tremendously appreciative and only barely tolerable because of his youth, he thanks her by stating, “I wish MY grandma would come out here and take pictures of me.” Ouch! You little pubescent rat!
Kit Kats
We were devastated when Thomas the Tom Kat (TTTK) passed away last December. We found him as a baby 16 years ago and he left a gaping hole when he passed. We would find kitty tracks in the snow this past winter and wonder if he was still watching over us.
He must have been because this spring through a chance encounter with a neighbor and a series of small miracles, we were introduced to Maximilian the Mountain Lion (MTML). He came to us by way of an Indian reservation in Gallup, New Mexico via a Humane Society shelter in Shiprock to Erin with Durango Animal Connections to our home. He was a tiny orange orphaned kitten that snuggled up on Jody’s chest purring enthusiastically. She fell in love with this 2 pounds of furball.
He doesn’t think he’s that small. Often leaping at us from behind furniture trying to take down his prey, he’s clearly practicing lessons taught in his mountain lion school. His toys are strewn throughout the entire house because he has not yet learned to keep them in his toybox. Yeah, he has a toybox. When he is not playing, or purring, or sleeping, he helps us heal. Thank you, TTTK. You were perfect. MTML is perfect. Vaya con Dios.
Life in Durango
Jody continues as a Vice President of Strategic Initiatives with Mr. Cooper. She is program managing a new initiative to reimagine the company’s sales platform. She finds it interesting. exhilarating and intense. I take care of her and the household. We were thrilled to be able to help the Soil Outdoor Learning Lab, https://www.soillab.org/, this year to build a Grow Dome for kids to learn about plants and science. My latest endeavor is being on a citizen group supporting a city ballot measure to renew a sales tax to continue funding open space, parks and trails and develop a new police headquarters & city hall.
Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!
Jody and Seth Furtney & Maximilian the Mountain Lion
11 Molas Drive, Durango, CO 81301
Jody Cell Phone: 970-385-5567 / Seth Cell Phone: 970-385-5547
Email: jodyfurtney@hotmail.com / sethfurtney@hotmail.com
