Puppy Love

Grays and Torreys

Yep. It's been a while. That happens.
I really haven't done much in the last month. The big highlight was hiking "Grays and Torreys" (two 14ers* in the Front Range) with pal Pico last Monday. I also got to try out the new camcorder and my video editing skills--which are elementary, at best. One moment I wish I'd managed to capture came from a woman who must have been around 45-50 at the top of Torreys. We were talking about how nice the day had turned out (despite rain in Denver in the morning) and she said, "Well, I heard the weather report during my workout this morning..." It was one of those: "You-know-you're-in-Colorado-when" moments.

At any rate, here's my travelogue for the day. I had hoped to get a kickin' 80s soundtrack (featuring Boston's "Walkin' at Night", of course) but Movie-Making skills aren't quite there yet. Just imagine the power riffs as you watch...


Untitled from Joel Schreurs on Vimeo.

*A "14er" is a mountain peak that reaches over fourteen thousand feet.

Going Native

It's Friday night. Jill's at work. There's really no good T.V. on (except the Gypsy Kings on PBS--which I'm watching/listening to so pardon my typos. It's really very distracting). I figured I might as well catch up on my blogging--finish that post I started about a year ago (when I first started this blog, actually) and never got around to wrapping up.

The post (started March 6, 2007) was originally prompted by a comment made by someone at church. I was asking him if it's possible to take one's dog along mountain biking on Front Range Trails when he interrupted me. "Wait a minute", he said. "You got a dog and you mountain bike? Wow, it didn't take you long to go native, did it?!"

I'll get into that in a minute. First a note of explanation.

The state of Colorado has one of the fastest growth rates in the nation. In fact, the growth rate of this great state is actually closer to that of a developing nation (or so the folks at NPR tell me). During the next decade, it's estimated that approximately 1,000,000 people will move to the Front Range area. That's a lot of people. No wonder one of the first questions that comes up in any conversation is "Where are you from?"

So not many of us are natives. But those who are take great pride in their status. They even have bumper stickers that proclaim to all the world their superior birth. The rest of us--well, we can only pretend. We do our best--we try to go go native", as my friend said. But some of us do better than others.

So, how am I doing? Here's what I've managed to come up with:

First, here's what I'm missing:

• An "Impeach Bush" bumper sticker/sign on my front lawn (somehow, I don't think this would be popular with a fair portion of my congregation).


• Single digit body fat percentage. (Denver claims to be the thinnest city in the U.S. I'm solidly in the double digits)


• SUV/Subaru Outback/4 Wheel Drive. (Somewhere, I have a picture of my street early on a Sunday morning--each of the 20-30 vehicles parked on my street fell into this category.


• $2,000 a month mortgage payment.


• Buddhist prayer flags and sense of vague, smorgus board "spirituality". We're down right particular in our spirituality, thank you very much.


• Leathery, Colorado Mountain tan. Still as pasty as ever.


• Large camper/trailer to be used every weekend between Memorial Day and Labor Day.

Wow. That's a lot of strikes against me. Come to think of it, the only thing I really have going for me is the previously mentioned dog/mountain bike, my willingness to wear spandex in public places, and my smug attitude about my new lightbulbs/compost bin. Not very impressive at all. I guess I'll have to settle for this bumper sticker f0r now:

PS: If any Coloradians can think of something I'm missing, let me know!

Adventures with Daisy

It was a beautiful day in Denver last Sunday (55+ degrees) so Jill and I decided to go to the mountains and find snow. Something about wanting to feel like we're still in the midwest, I guess.

Anyway...we took Daisy along. She's been gaining some sympathy weight with Jill and it was time to get her some exercise. She loves running around in the snow, and at times reminded me of those cartoons where Bugs Bunny is tearing around under ground and you can only see a trail of dirt popping up on top of him. It was like that--but with snow. In this little clip, she actually gets stuck in a rather deep drift. And then I do. I thought snow shoes were supposed to float on top of the snow?!

No animals were harmed in the making of this film.

Your Dog is Dumber than My Dog...I Hope

Jill and I are finishing up our week visiting family in Iowa. That means we're getting ready to go "home" to Denver (it still sounds a little strange to say that). It also means that we're bracing ourselves for the report we'll be getting from our friends Kevin and Lynn, who have been watching Daisy-the-Wunder-Mutt while we've been away. We're preparing ourselves for the worst--but consoling ourselves with the knowledge that their dog Zeke(whom we watched during Thanksgiving break)is dumber than our dog. At least we hope he is.

Here is the standard Zeke set--the one we hope Daisy will not quite be able to attain.

1. Zeke cannot poop in one spot. This is not as endearing as it sounds. Zeke (who is one of those big dogs who looks hunched over and awkward to begin with) walks in circles as he poops. It's the first thing he does when he hops out of the back of the Robert's Subaru. And he does it at night, on our walks, too. Believe it or not, squinting in the pale moon light as I hunt for stray dog turds is very low on my list of favorite things to do. As this is a family blog, I won't get started on what happens to the rest of his anatomy when he's working on all this.

2. Zeke is prone to anxiety attacks. When we had him at our house for a few days this summer, the Roberts dropped off a few pill bottles with his leash, dog food, bed, and water bucket (by they way, he needs a bucket, not a bowl, as he drinks/drools an incredible amount. This could easily be point three, in my opinion.). They explained that one was a prescription for the really serious attacks--the Fourth-of-July-Fireworks type. The other was an over-the-counter drug for the less serious thunderstorm-induced attacks. Well, I'm glad we didn't have Zeke around for fireworks, because the "minor" attacks are annoying enough. Zeke cowers in a corner, shaking, or sticks to your side so closely that you can't go to the bathroom without him following you there. Thankfully, the drugs do a sufficient job of knocking him out.

3. Zeke is a delicate sleeper. We first discovered this delightful idiosyncrasy when we tried to gate him into a room downstairs. This was successful for a few hours. But sometime around 4 am, we heard a loud CRASH as he came through the gate (not over it). The next night, when we let him sleep upstairs in the hallway with Daisy, we couldn't keep him from pacing in and out of our room and up and down the stairs, whimpering, trying to crawl under our bed, and generally acting very nervous (see pt. 2, above). After a few hours, we discovered that one of the things that was bothering Zeke was a very subtle "chirp" from one of our smoke alarms. I still don't know which one (or why it was chirping, since they don't run off of batteries), but I did look. Eventually (around 2 am), I ended up standing on a chair in my boxers muttering less than affectionate things about old Zeke as I yanked out the smoke alarms--only to discover that that makes them chirp even more. In fact, they just may be possessed, since the keep on chirping even when the back-up battery is removed. By 2:30 am, all of our smoke detectors were piled outside on our back porch. I consider it evidence of spectacular self control and restraint that I managed not to throw them into the street where I could back over them--repeatedly--with the car.

There are a few others--but that should give you a sense of the standard that has been set for Daisy. Like I said, I really hope that Zeke is dumber than Daisy so that we don't have to feel too bad about whatever terrors she's inflicted upon the Roberts. And I also hope that, if the Roberts read this, they know that, really, we love Zeke, he's wonderful, and we'll happily take him again. At least if you're willing to take Daisy.

Rollerblading with Daisy

I'm not sure why I find this so entertaining--but I do. This is us going down our block. She's slowed down a bit after going for a good half hour. (Earlier, we went to Wash Park and were keeping up with some bikers. Yep, my dog is faster than your dog.)

Getting Ready For a Walk

This is Daisy get revved up to go out for the previously mentioned rollerblading. About ten seconds in is when I grab the leash and she realizes what's going on. And no, I don't know why I say "go" like I'm from Sheboygan County

Flashback: 1990

As I mentioned a few posts ago, I'm training for the Triple Bypass coming up this July.

Well, sort of training.

Monday afternoon I meant to go for a ride. But it was windy. And cold (ish). And that meant biking outside would be a lot of work. So not such a hot idea.

So then I thought of another idea. I could go in the basement and work on the erg (that's a rowing machine, for you lay persons). You may or may not know, but "erging" (that's "rowing") is one of the best workouts there is. It works every major muscle group at once. And again, that means its a lot of work. So that sounded like a bad idea too.

And then I remembered an almost idyllic scene from a few days before. He was floating, it seemed. Gliding down the street without any effort. He had his trusty K-9 trotting along beside him.

He was...rollerblading.

Suddenly, I was transported back to the year 1990. To the time I flipped through the JC Penny Catalogue and saw a pair of "Laser Line 50s." They were only 45.95.* And they were beautiful. Jet black. Your choice of hot pink or neon green trim and wheels.

They had to be mine. Soon, they were. (You can guess which color I chose.)

It wasn't long before I was blading around Sioux Center with my friends. Cruising around the mall. Jumping off of the Dordt Science Building Steps. Hopping over the benches of the SUB (may it rest in peace). Whipping down the hill behind the chapel. Zipping through the hallways of Sioux Center Christian before school. ** Playing roller hockey in empty parking lots. Getting in trouble with Jeremy K's mom for hitting her precious little boy with my hockey stick.

Ahhh, yes. Those were the good times.

So I decided to ride that wave of nastolgia all the way to "Sport's Authority" and find myself a new pair. Regrettably, they didn't have anything in cool neon colors. But, somewhat miraculously, they had something in my size. And on sale! It was a sign. I bought them, took them home, and laced up. And then, I put Daisy on her leash and we took off for Harvard Gulch Park.

Let me tell you, Rollerblades have come a long way in the last 15 years. The boots are more comfortable. The bearings are much smoother.

And with Daisy pulling like a Clydesdale, they roll a whole lot easier. In fact, with her doing most of the work, rollerblading just might qualify as the best workout ever.

*A bargain compared to Kelly C's new, top-of-the-line "Coolblades", for which he paid a cool $150.
**Clearly, this was before I became employed there as a janitor. Janitor me would've wailed on roller-blading me for such foolish behavior. Do you know what Rollerblade wheels do to waxed floors?!

A Little Stroll

I know I said no bike posts. How about hiking?

Jill and I went to Dakota Ridge with Daisy for a two hour (ish) hike this afternoon. Dakota Ridge is located near Red Rocks (in fact, it overlooks Red Rocks). When I viewed it from the highway, I thought it was the official beginning of the foothills. Turns out, it's not. From what I can tell, it's a big wall of rock with a hiking trail going along the top. The flatlands (well, some hills, the highway--470, I think) are on the east and the Red Rocks/Basin type area on the west. Then the real foothills/mountains start. Quite an interesting geological formation. (If anyone finds any "official" info on the internet, let me know. I'll post a link). A few shots for your view pleasure...

ME

THE MRS.

(After this pic was taken, Daisy attacked Jill. She was really mad about the bunny ears.)

DAISY

(Clearly, not one who suffers from Acrophobia)

GRATUITOUS JILL/DAISY SHOT

PS: Regardless of the impression given on this blog, I really do more here than ski, bike, and hike. For instance, now I "blog."

PPS: Hey CL, I met Walt (yes, the Walt). He and his wife/girlfriend were out riding...

Daisy

I think that speaks for itself.