Last one today I promise!

I don't mean to brag, but I think God might be reading my blog. We had a miserable rainy slog over hill and dale this morning, and I had my afternoon all planned out. I was going to sauna and sleep and feel sorry for myself due to the fact that one instagram friend is sending minute by minute pictures of herself in sunny St. Tropez. (Amy can't you stop her??) It is getting on my nerves.
Also, in honor of lions and black people being shot constantly, I was going to eat some peanut butter.

Alas, as if word got out in heaven that I was going to have one day off from love beam practice, the sun comes out. Blazing amazing Alpine Sun.

Honestly I am not in the mood.

Von Wehlen is making fun of me for citing Messner -as if I am trying to sound like a mountain climber. Sorry, but I am not backing down. All I meant was there are people who don't mind getting a few blisters in their quest for that soothing, eternal presence that caresses your cheek; and there are people who do. And Reinie and I (I call him that) are in the category of people who don't. Just because his blisters are bigger than mine, doesn't mean I don't have them. Also-today Kriegerhorn, tomorrow who knows? I hear there is a five star hotel in Tibet now.

K says we are not to bring kids to the party for her because " it is a gay party" ??! what does that mean? All the gays I know now are Republicans with kids. What is always important however is the attire: I think I might bust out my mini lederhosen shorts. (Because what could be gayer than that?)
Below is my inspiration, a waitress yesterday who really went out of her way to give the boys something to dream about. Normally lederhosen are made of something more like suede. Our girl here is wearing black leather shorts. Bless her little heart.
The orthodox Jews are back in town, and I wouldn't be surprised if one look at her leads to a few conversions.  Avert your eyes, Chosen People!!

Where was I? I do apologize for so many entries this year, (reading is not mandatory!) but it has been like therapy. It is either that, or taking schnapps into the sauna; and you do not want to see dehydration at that level.
A few photos from before the sun came out this morning.

Good grief the sun is really heating up. I have taken to my bed with weary legs and peanut butter. (Surely peanut butter in bed screams peaceful resistance ..?)

A sun beam is trying to sneak into my room now-imploring me to come outside and warm myself. 
But I can't just yet. I am too weary to withstand the light. 

Enduring The Beams of Love

.

The following day when the beams had gone again. Oh lech...

..Look on the rising sun: there God does live 

And gives his light, and gives his heat away. 

And flowers and trees and beasts and men receive

Comfort in morning, joy in the noonday.

And we are put on earth a little space,

That we may learn to bear the beams of love,
William Blake

Ok maybe I am a overly sentimental about the sun coming out. But it was like a drug. Thomas, who did not join me due to the guest situation, said I went 'berserk'- all day, enduring the beams of sun. According to Blake- being in sun beams is practice for receiving the beams of God's love; which I find a lovely little multi tasking. 

When I finally reached the top of the second walk, I realized I was really tired and the clouds were coming in (see photos below) and love and beams aside, I really wanted water and my bed. Such a problem with hiking-you can't get in your car. So I was at the top turning to go down when I saw a lone figure in black leather-a motorcyclist who had ridden the road to the top of the Kriegerhorn. And here is the funny part- I actually thought, oh crap this guy is going to kill me and put me in that huge backpack. At 7 thousand feet, in a town where one does not lock one's doors; I happened to find the killer. Perhaps I was dehydrated, but that is a new level of paranoia. 

He was taking pictures. But I was sure this was an obvious, laughable ruse and-decided to go down the other side of the mountain towards a cliffy area to prepare myself to run (fling?) down. A last desperate attempt at life. 

People, people...you cannot imagine how absurd this is! How little progress this shows in my mental state. How I am more scarred by the behavior of my fellow man than I knew! No one is trying to kill me on the Kriegerhorn. After a little spell of this walking, it occurred to me that I would rather be killed and dismembered than have to walk back up any more than I already had. If he killed me, at least I would get a ride down on that motorcycle. 

So I walked back up to the top, so I could get down. 

I do so worry about my progress. I have taken three weeks of daily meditation: breathing about gratitude (I am grateful!) and how I need to "allow love to come to my aid.." (What the hell does that mean?)

All I know is when one is feeling the impending doom of boarding school or or very, very bad guests -can't write about that even with the password-or Donald Trump actually running for president, or the tiring, demoralizing persistence of cruelty, or most of all -my long list of Ellie's Self Improvement ideas that I never seem to get to: the only thing for sure that helps is a very long walk. With a dash of adrenaline from the thought of me karate chopping a man in black leather on the back side of the Kriegerhorn. (!! using the avalanche barriers as hurdles!!)

Enough about me-we do not talk about Reinhold Messner enough. Little known EBW fact-I read a lot of mountain climbing accounts. I have read books on the first ascent on Everest by the English, about Messner's solo attempt, ones about people cutting their partners off the rope so they could live, ones in South America, the Seven Summit tales about rich yahoos trying to pay their way up. I love a good book about a place I will never go. My wonderful friend David Keaton, who has climbed Everest, laughs at how I drone on about the Khumbu Icefall. Fun fact: David almost drowned there. The weather was really hot that year and he fell into a huge ice puddle (my word not his) with his heavy back pack; they almost couldn't get him out. 

Messner was raised by a wonderful mother and a cruel man; but from that man he learned to climb mountains. Thomas told me that he is the lone surviving member of his original Mountain Guide Class; he lost his brother on Nanga Parbat amid accusations that to achieve an ambitious goal of traversing a highly dangerous face, he essentially left his brother to die; he has lost most of his toes, been divorced and thinks he has seen the Yeti. 

"To non-climbers it may be difficult to convey the extent and grandeur of Reinhold Messner's accomplishments. Here's a start: His ascent, with longtime partner Peter Habeler, of Hidden Peak, the 26,470-foot (8,068-meter) summit of Gasherbrum I, one of the giants of the Himalaya, without any of the paraphernalia of traditional high-altitude climbing—porters, camps, fixed ropes, and oxygen—was hailed as forging a whole new standard of mountaineering. But that was back in 1975, before Messner and Habeler went on to climb Mount Everest without oxygen, a feat that took climbing to the absolute limit. That, in turn, was in May of 1978—three months before Messner climbed Nanga Parbat, the ninth highest mountain on Earth, solo—a feat heralded as one of the most daring in mountaineering. That, however, was two years before he climbed Mount Everest without oxygen, equipped with a single small rucksack—and alone."

His solo Everest trip, in case you are not up to speed, was just astounding. He basically packed a ruck sack with some dried fruit and climbed up and down by himself in four days. The only back-up he had was his girlfriend at base camp. I am not sure I would have dated this guy. Actually who knows. I do love the tortured ones. Here is an excerpt from one of his books on what it was like: 

When I rest I feel utterly lifeless except that my throat burns when I draw breath... I can scarcely go on. No despair, no happiness, no anxiety. I have not lost the mastery of my feelings, there are actually no more feelings. I consist only of will. After each few metres this too fizzles out in unending tiredness. Then I think nothing. I let myself fall, just lie there. For an indefinite time I remain completely irresolute. Then I make a few steps again.” 

Reinhold Messner; The Crystal Horizon

That is of course the interesting part to me-the no feelings. You give up happiness, but you also give up despair and anxiety. (Not a bad trade in my book).  Messner said in an interview that he does not climb to see the wildflowers or the mountain views. He claims he is no naturalist. 
The mountains simply bring him closer to the mystery that is man-allowing him to explore our darkness and our light. And hell if that isn't the bravest thing a person can do. 

On the agenda for today (alas another rainy one..but there is hope for tomorrow); forced rain death march to lunch, then having friends over for my famous pesto by the fire. F is going to whip up Katia's coffee dessert. 

In a very short time we will be going to Turkey for a little sail. In truth I am a worried about ten days of nothing but sun and lounging. A vacation with no broiling tennis courts, no icy waters, no jogs in the heat, no long hikes in the rain? A holiday with no pain? 
How does that work, exactly? 

Someone asked about the boat-it's called the Vaimiti. I am sure you can see pictures of it on the web somewhere. One earring-ed and tattooed French captain with a taste for speed-not shown....

HAPPY FRIENDSHIP DAY! love you guys...xx

KriegerAlpe Restaurant

Glacier lake 

Karhorn (aka Mordor) I ran up to the dent and around that sucker last summer in +1 degree Celsius

Tired legs; little daisy

Happy Blue Moon, Tribe of Mine..!

I have so much to cover. Took way too many walks in the sunshine yesterday, so my mind is a bit quieter- but I can barely stand.

But before I get to yesterday's adventures, I have to mention the blue moon. I did not know this, but the blue moon is an additional full moon that appears in a subdivision of a year: either the third of four full moon in a season, or a second full moon in a month of the common calendar. My Teutons are wondering what all the fuss is about: "it's not blue and it's not that rare..!"

Sigh. That's like saying who cares if you get an extra weekend every once in a while. A full moon is a girl's delight. More is better. 

It was a killer combination with the sunshine because the sun made me run around up and down for hours, and then the moon drew me out of bed in the middle of night to gaze upon it. 

I'm spent. Let's see if I can get through today- we have more visitors-argh...(thank god they are lazy...)

For now my beautiful moon girls, here is a little Joycean ode to the moon (and you- especially the last line ..now I have to look up the word propiniquity.) 
more soon. xx

“Her antiquity in preceding and surviving succeeding tellurian generations: her nocturnal predominance: her satellitic dependence: her luminary reflection: her constancy under all her phases, rising and setting by her appointed times, waxing and waning: the forced invariability of her aspect: her indeterminate response to inaffirmative interrogation: her potency over effluent and refluent waters: her power to enamour, to mortify, to invest with beauty, to render insane, to incite to and aid delinquency: the tranquil inscrutability of her visage: the terribility of her isolated dominant resplendent propinquity: her omens of tempest and of calm: the stimulation of her light, her motion and her presence: the admonition of her craters, her arid seas, her silence: her splendour, when visible: her attraction, when invisible.” 
― James Joyce, Ulysses

Encryption

This post is solely to encrypt the blog again. Do NOT worry. Nothing has changed. You may see a post like this again. Should you see one, remain calm and DO NOT contact the blog owner with complaints. A post like this will be posted every 10-15 posts. REMAIN CALM. NOTHING HAS CHANGED. Thank you for your attention.

Ellie away's tech department

Few Photos

My apologies for the two entry day, but it is so gorgeous out; I tried (and might have failed) to capture what it looks like.

Must keep walking now-I cannot stay away. As the renowned German mountain climber, Luis Trenker said:

Der Berg ruft: Ich muss in den Berg.

Today's lunch spot

Almost Cheezy, (the beam of light!) but I was feeling it

Very hard to photograph water..it is so much prettier than this

Feel kind of bad about recovering the bench in the living room in these girls...

Keep on Walking

I have been having lots of dreams about lions lately-none of them good. What kind of person wants to kill and decapitate a beautiful male lion with a black mane? The thing I remember most about sitting near lions was first, how lazy they are when they are not hunting: they really do nothing but sit around looking good. And second, when they occasionally look at you with those yellow eyes, they do not see you. You are invisible- and it's terrifying.
But oh how we love them. We love them because they are beautiful and powerful and heartless. Like a lot of people, I guess. Anyway, maybe this will galvanize the conservation efforts-but I'm sad to say I doubt it.

Yesterday the weather was bad: I was feeling blue and in the mood for a good brood. (this more than anything makes you a local: no one does brooding like an Austrian).
I decided to go it alone: walk up steep and nasty but just for 40 minutes; run down for 1/2 hour down the other side, then run/walk flat for another 40 minutes or so to lunch. A little trip towards food. And I would be alone, so I could go slowly and brood in peace. Just munch on my gummi bears thinking morose thoughts at will.

Later at lunch, I actually said to  Thomas-von-Lalanne that perhaps I should walk back up the 30 minutes home after we ate. He looked at me like I was crazy. "You have run for almost two hours already." Yes, I said, but so much was down hill....? and a lot was walking..?
I'm not kidding..I sounded like Margaret-who is an actual fit person. (Compared to her, I am a Saudi Arabian 12 year old). But after a few weeks in Lech, distance changes. It's like some sort of time space continuum. Lech distance is different from other distance.
Point is: keep walking people. There is no place you can't get to with a pocket full of gummi bears and an injustice to ruminate against. Trust me.

On my way, I saw a friend of the Schneider's who is an avalanche dynamiter. He lives in the best house in town with a woman who is a cross country skiing guide and whom I adore.
He and I have always spoken German-but he is very shy and I worry my vocabulary will soon run out. I had one night last summer where the German Gods blessed me and I was killing it. Just one avalanche joke after another coming out of my mouth. The trouble is I cannot possibly keep that level up, and yesterday he was looking at me expectantly, cheerfully even, like I was going to say something hilarious. But I was sweaty and tired and I had sticky hands from the gummi bears and I was sort of flailing.
So I declare in a weird voice , as I am peering into his car, that we really need to get together and have a drink because his wife and children are in South America for 5 weeks.
I mean...sad that Uli is away..so sad. We need to drink now. But maybe just apple juice. But definitely at your place because your house is so great.. I mean you know what I mean..let's go to your place. 
Good lord.
I looked horrible, so there is little chance he will take me up on the offer. But my reputation as that loon from California is growing. 

In case any of you are worried that I am losing weight, below is a photograph of last night's dessert. Here's the rub: it was for one person.  That's right.

 Salburger Nockerl is a famous Austrian dish -made mostly of egg whites and sugar I think.
Thomas dryly asked what the waiters do with the bodies that have exploded. I told him I was pretty sure I saw a memorial somewhere dedicated to those who died while eating it.

More visitors come today; K's gay BFF is throwing her a party on the 6th where he will cook a full meal as a gift to her. This is the same man who threw the famous margarita party with me years ago; (see earlier blogs), the same party where I started eating the plants on the table.
Anyway I wrote to him offering my services as sous chef. Funny, he has not written me back..

"Lost to Egg Whites, but forever in our hearts..."

Resistance Is Futile

Cocktail Hour at 5,709 feet

I have no news: the weather has turned cooler and the guests have left. They committed two acts of insubordination while here: they bought us dinner (a no no-we are the locals) and-get this: they hiked on their own the next day. It took me a while to understand what they were saying, even though they are English speakers. Thomas translated: THEY WANT TO HIKE WITHOUT US. 
At first I thought they meant to jettison Thomas -and I made all sorts of agreeing noises about how I felt their pain, and this time, I would protect them: we would go slowly. But actually, after all this talk about how Thomas was the problem hiker, I had the distinct impression that some people don't like hiking with me. Apparently I have a reputation (within my own family at least) for being a bit crabby when the going gets tough. Whatever. 

We have discovered a new massage technique called Myo-facial release: "is a soft tissue therapy for the treatment of skeletal muscle immobility and pain. This alternative medicine therapy aims to relax contracted muscles, improve blood and lymphatic circulation, and stimulate the stretch reflex in muscles." We go every other evening. 

Basically a woman in white comes and presses her strong mountain girl fingers into small areas of your body that are very, very tight. It is extremely uncomfortable. Your muscles are tight from a fundamental imbalance-some are always weaker from all this sitting (what sitting I'd like to know?) and perhaps they are trying to protect something. So this lady comes -Frau Mengele (kidding..not really) comes in and with a HUGE smile and periodic laughter like a crazy person at how tight you are. The part she loves most is how if she just keeps pressing, the muscles eventually give in and relax. It is quite amazing. You feel as if she has stopped pressing. When I asked her if she had, she replied cheerfully: "NEIN! Ich bin nicht so nett" I am not that nice!!!
Anyway, since this blog aims to share teaching moments...it occurred to me on that bed that that is the story of summer in Lech. Do not resist. Do not resist the weather, or the walk, or the offer of food or wine, or the pain of the ice bath or massage. Lech knows best-if you fight it, it will only take longer. Meanwhile, try not to think of your friends in Portofino lounging around getting tan and fat and falling back in love with life. 

Below some photos

Black Power Salute protesting another walk. I did not succeed.

                                                                                                                 Murmel Tier (local animal)

 
Slack lining after a schnapps (that was forced on us; see lesson above vis a vis resistance);

Runner's High and Secret Recipes

Some friends have come from Zurich-hard working types who go to the gym and eat their vegetables.  They think a hike sounds fun. "It's so beautiful here!!"  "We are BIG hikers!"

Inevitably they remember they are dealing with Thomas, and they start to backtrack. "I was just in the hospital"; or full panicked retreat: "I'm not going anywhere with your husband."
Unfortunately I am no good cop to Thomas' bad: I am the prisoner who has been gnawing on her chicken bone in the gulag for years, waiting for company; like a lonely spider in her web.

Get your big boy pants on honey:  I am not doing this alone.

We bark orders immediately after the dessert is served: coffee in the morning at ten sharp at the Arlberg; water is unnecessary, we will be back quickly; wear flip flops for all we care; lunch is when we say it is; go home now and sleep.

We are so happy you came.....!!!!!!!

In fairness, we do provide gummi bears. A word to the wise for all of you: eat the damn gummi bears. Do not tell me you don't eat candy, or you prefer salty things. Yes, yes we all enjoy potato chips. We are not children.
But when one is faced with the hell that is a long up hill walk in altitude, the only hope is sugar. At the lowest point (not altitude wise, but emotionally) on the half marathon, Thomas rode his bicycle in a hail storm high in the hills to hand me a coke. I am not making this up. One half a coke was all it took for me to take off -yodeling to the finish line.
Anyway, enough about nutrition...

We have F with us-he loathes hikes, but like all children is better at it than we are. He takes off on his spindly legs, gummi bears in pocket-I stay for exactly five minutes of chit chat before I remember that I want this over with-I rush after F, and T stays back for a while with these people who are wondering what exactly is the matter. Is there a bear chasing us? what is the hurry? Also, did you mention a shorter version? because I was recently hospitalized?...

Luckily for them we had promised F a short outing and it was...the weather changed and went from hot and sunny to absolutely freezing. Now T and F are indoors playing tennis, and I am writing to you my pretty bloggers. I really do have the most beautiful readership..not to brag.

Where was I? I have incredible news. No really. K makes an iced coffee dessert that is soooo good. I have tried for years to get the recipe. I told Luis he would get 50 euros if he could steal it. Ida snuck Katia's cook book out for me. Then last night I just said: Katia. I need this.
I have three months to live.
And I have it!!! Lock up your husbands ladies...they will be coming home with me after a taste of this. Ok I'll give you a teaser: it involves ice cream, liquid cream and espresso. Also one slightly poisonous mushroom from south of the alps. But I've said too much....

I had a genuine runner's high-Alpine version yesterday. These are rare for me because I am just not that hot of a runner; plus I'm lazy. Anyway It occurred to me that I  never, ever have moments of euphoria on a run at home. Or anywhere else for that matter; it is a miracle that only happens here.

The sun was out, I was tearing down a slight hill listening to a song from college days, a song that could make anyone run faster (the song Laid by James). I was so happy and energetic, that I began to practice my hurdles-imaginary ones, (which I believe are the best kind-my form is perfect on those.)

So picture this crazy woman leaping and whooping alone down the dirt road, past her cows (Hello Ladies!!!) past the church steeple far below,  through the forest, over the wooden bridge over the water fall, away from anything that hurts, towards everything that comforts-towards the end of the run, and the beginning of lunch. Towards a shower and a book and cream in her coffee. Towards people who love her, warts and all.
xx

Me and my girls. Filter is used to express the hell that walking can be. 

Leching Along...

"I know you're tired, but come. This is the way. " Rumi



How much do we love Rumi? He not only knew everything a person can know about love, but it seems he also went hiking with his wife in the alps.
Yesterday was very hot, and weirdly humid for Lech. Somehow a hike that we consider easy, i.e. one hour up something steep-but still not much more than an hour up-somehow that turned hellish. I am not sure if it was the weather or the run I had done the day before, but I was not happy.
I grumpily told Thomas that in all our years together we had never, not once stayed in bed all day watching movies. This I find very funny now-that this statistic popped into my head and ate at my soul (not once!). But at the time I was very serious-I mean what is this? a marriage or a training camp?
He was very nice, and pretended to also be tired, but I am not buying it. Here is a picture he took of me at the top-when he asked me to look cheerful. ha!

I am worried about boring everyone with Lech stories, because they are so similar every year. We were out the other night with the Wehlens (they popped in for two nights which was nice) and the Schneiders and a Greek friend (and yes it was teensy awkward the whole German with Greek thing..but only at first) who is an expert-Harvard educated- Landscaper. I am still not sure what he is working on here, but something about joining gardens from one hotel to the other...
Anyway I sat next to G, and after a jolly dinner he decided that we four needed absolutely, positively to fly for one day to Monaco to visit a friend who is turning 50 because said friend didn't want to do anything special for his birthday, and this could not stand. Specialness had to be forced upon him. I had eaten a lot of hirsh sausages (god help me I hope it is not deer, but let's just call it elk..) and this seemed so obviously the right thing to do: we must get up at 4 in the morning and fly to see a person who specifically said he didn't really need to see us. Yes!!!
Luckily we sobered up the next day and realized that perhaps a person could survive his birthday without kissing the Schneiders or the Wehlens. Although why anyone would want that is beyond me...

In our group drop box I saw a website featuring nerdy pick up lines; found most likely by a fourteen year old on his way to Exeter. Preparation in love, as in life, is always key.

"You must be the square root of minus one, because you can't be real.." or, if that doesn't work:
Are you the square root of two? because you make me feel irrational."

Ok it's not Rumi, but still it might work at PEA.

Us in happier times..behind us the Omeshorn. We have hiked to the top of that too. 

Big Love from High in the Mountains

Our view as we drive into town

Greetings Earthlings:

We are tucked in to the alps again- mooching off the Schneiders and leaping around with heart rate monitors on, (much like Heidi did I'm sure). The weather is incredibly beautiful-hot with hopes of evening thunder.

Yesterday I was having a bad day; but then a brilliant friend sent me this, and it cheered me greatly. 

It seems that little Albert E. had a pretty good head on his shoulders.  

Enjoy. 

https://wearelightbeings.wordpress.com/2015/04/15/a-letter-from-albert-einstein-to-his-daughter-about-the-universal-force-which-is-love/

Encryption

This post is solely to encrypt the blog again. Do NOT worry. Nothing has changed. You may see a post like this again. Should you see one, remain calm and DO NOT contact the blog owner with complaints. A post like this will be posted every 10-15 posts. REMAIN CALM. NOTHING HAS CHANGED. Thank you for your attention.

Ellie away's tech department 

Keep dreaming bloggers...!

Below is from blogger extraordinaire- one Amy R. from San Francisco, Ca. She is having trouble with her life partner over this dreaming business (as are so many of us- men can be such a tiresome sex). And below that are photos of my first hurdle training sessions. We are starting small, i.e., with a can of tomato sauce. But who knows where this will lead? 

Take THAT Chris N.! 

Solider on Amy...Solider on. 

"What is the word in German for fantasy Scrooge. CDN is quibbling with the specifics of my fantasy. He thinks it is important to admit that it could only be the Summer Olympics, because there is no Winter Olympic sport I could do. This puts aside the obvious which is (a) it is a fantasy, (b) it is MY fantasy, (c) there is no likely Summer Olympic sport I could contend in either, and (d) he has never seen me luge. Gotta keep the magic alive somehow. I vote to put him on the bus with the Japanese tourists. Let Thomas save him. I will be honoring my country with my incredible achievement. "

Quick photos

We are bad about taking photos - but here are a few from our early morning swim. The water is very chilly, but a swim is mandatory for anyone that wants a beach coffee afterwards. Rules are rules. 

Just Swing

"The hurdler is a sprinter who possesses a natural sense of rhythm and a no-fear attitude. This is particularly true of the high hurdles, where no compensation can be made for technique and rhythm. The long hurdler, on the other hand, has to cope with hurdling under extreme fatigue. 

All hurdle races require an athlete who isn't satisfied with simply running."

How to Run Hurdles

I am still waiting to hear everyone's fantasies. One blogger admitted via email to Olympic dreams complete with (I do so appreciate this last part) mouthing the words correctly to the Star Spangled banner on the podium. F is toying with the idea of borrowing my high diving dream; T is busy working on a hurdles training program, complete with small ones set up in front of the nearest bank.

My point is: dream often, but dream big. If you come to me with a small dream, I will squash it. You'll thank me later. (Japanese indeed.)

Ok almost closing shop here. We have jogged many miles and played many hours of tennis and golf; and yet we are no closer to smug satisfaction. But as I always say-the way to play life is often found in how to hit a ball. Today at tennis when I started over thinking-trying to stop the right heel from coming so high, trying to see the future instead of keeping the head down, trying to fake it.....my 22 year old teacher stopped and said:

Ellie.
Swing.
Just swing.

And I so did.

Photos soon; Munich on Sunday; Lech on Monday afternoon; dinner with K and G on Monday night; cool mountain nights... one after the other.

 xxx

98.6

I am hoping the above photo conveys a sense of heat; it was taken post chicken curry (with extra hot sauce) in a picturesque town 30 minutes from our country club oasis.. As you likely know, when the outside temperature gets above body temp... it's el bummer. 

We can never remember the name of this town, we usually just call it "that hot place". And I don't know why we pay a visit every year- nothing is ever open: neither church nor museum. 
We just go for lunch. And get a load of the menu on offer:

It was either a candid camera episode or my mother in law had recently bought the place. Who in God's name has a hankering for rabbit stew when it is100 degrees? And what is Cockrel?
Oh well, when in Rome...

I went for the chicken curry and F manned up and ordered wild boar -to the delight of the owner (little known fact: the wild boar is featured on the Brigham family crest). 

Thomas was happy because the British open was on above my head; so I went outside to try to take selfies as I sweltered - (Swelfies: Trademark! )

So since le blog is now private, I feel I can post all sorts of Wehlen secrets. I asked the team, as we sipped coffee after our early ocean swim, to admit their fantasies of glory: the thing they fantasize about doing to the roar of the crowd. I went first:

I would like to be able to do various dives off of high dives - at a basic swim party for example, just bust out with a backward jack knife. Or- I see myself breaking up a bank robbery by chasing after the criminal and catching him.

Maybe shooting him in the leg.

T went next, and his fantasy will of course surprise no one. He dreams of  being able to speak perfect Japanese to a surprised and delighted bus of Japanese. 

Now part of the game includes the sacred trust of not making fun.. But I had to ask: 
You fantasize about impressing Japanese tourists? 

Why? Leaping over barriers ( in my fantasy there are hurdles involved) is better?

Yes. The bank robbers might be handsome and admire my feistiness. Or the police or the bystanders. but a bus full of Japanese? Who cares if they like you? 

F's was equally mundane: an astronaut. whatever. I am not sure they get the game...do Germans not fantasize? 
The good news is once I told them I needed to be able to leap hurdles (like at a track meet), we got right to work. Below some photos of my initial attempts. In my mind, I looked like Jackie Joyner Kersee...alas...

But I implore you to write in and admit all: saving Angelina Jolie from a crocodile attack? curing cancer and then accepting the nobel prize? playing pool against a bully and winning? skiing out of an avalanche? 
come on...let it out. You'll feel better- no, actually we will because we will all be laughing. 
And you should feel good about that. 

xx 

( Middle Aged crime stopper)