Went to Colorado for the nine-hundredth time and somehow had many FIRSTS.
1. First time trying PHEASANT. blech. done only at the polite obligation of Ryan's grandma's cooking. Two things turned me off immediately: first, the awful taste of the pheasant itself, and second, Ryan's grandma's verbal warning of "mouth-hunting for buckshot/bb's" in the meat I was offered. Please know that my husband's family is NOT redneck or random, and that his grandparents accepted this pheasant from a neighbor in South Dakota and brought it down to Colorado thinking that we'd all enjoy it. We had a split decision on the 'enjoyment' of the pheasant. My advice: Don't Go There.
2. First time trying ROCKY MOUNTAIN OYSTERS. double BLECH. deep fried and served with COCKTAIL SAUCE (is that some kind of culinary double entendre???) these little disgusting bitches caused me to cough and sputter, and all the while, complete my attempt in eating at least one, mostly to appease the Colorado natives. (note: we actually ate the Rocky Mountain Oysters in WYOMING, where they were called 'Bull Rings')
3. First time traveling from Colorado to Wyoming. pretty awesome. we travelled through Cheyenne (so many George Strait and Garth Brooks tunes running through my head all the while) to Laramie (so many visions of Matthew Shepard alongside a frigid, wooden fence, clinging to life...clinging to my present memory) to a place called Centennial. In Centennial, we met up with Ryan's dad, who happened to be working on a ski lodge in the area.
4. First time Snowmobiling. AWESOME. It was -14 degrees (yes, MINUS) when we headed out on Monday morning. Just me, Ryan, his mom and dad. We rented 3 snowmobiles. Being the Halstead that I am, I demanded my own snowmobile, because I knew that I could handle it. Ryan had his own, and his mom wasn't sure whether or not she wanted to ride solo, so Ryan's dad opted for a tandem for them. There was NO WAY i was going to ride tandem. Ryan already knew that about me. I was brought up riding ATV's and relishing jumps and whoop-de-doos throughout the sandy deserts. Ryan and I had even rented ATV's on a vacation in Cabo San Lucas a few years back, and I blew him away when it came to speed and fearlessness (stupidity). This was exactly like that...we raced each other on snowed-over roads and back-hills trails with his parents following soooooo far behind. I was so proud of myself for reaching 70 mph on all of the snow-filled straight-aways. I made a point to check my spedometer even though I knew my throttle was pushed to the hilt, and also knowing that the idiot at the snowmobile place gave Ryan the larger of the two. Ryan had the 600, i was given the 450. Ryan couldn't catch up with me all day, and when I asked him what his fastest speed was, he told me that his spedometer wasn't working. WHATEVER!!!
5. First time getting stuck in the snow on a snowmobile. This was soooo humiliating. When we were given the instructions to ride the snowmobiles, the guy told us to NEVER USE REVERSE, as this would lead to a quickly turning the snowmobile on its side. I held this information close to my heart, and after racing ahead of my husband and in-laws for the better part of an hour, I slowed down to make sure they were all behind me. They were, but my mother-in-law was motioning me back (she and my father in law, on their tandem, were about 50 yards behind me). I was leading the way on a narrow, snowed-over one-lane road when I realized that I couldn't reverse the snowmobile to get to them. I was dead straight in the middle of the lane and realized I needed to make a U-turn. I veered to the right at about 1 mph and continued my turn at the same speed into a bank that looked like soft, shiny pillows. Those pillows quickly swallowed up my snowmobile, and the next thing I knew, we were digging my machine out of the snow-filled ditch I drove it into. It took all four of us to retrieve the machine, and it left me feeling like an ass instead of a speed-demon. I almost wished I had driven, top-speed, into a tree instead of being absorbed into soft powder. Thankfully, no damage to stupid driver (ME) or machine (rented). Worse than this, the reason my mom-in-law wanted to stop was to take pictures in the snowy area, and the pictures she ended up taking were of my husband, my father-in-law, and digging out the snowmobile.
6. First time seeing real, live BALD EAGLES. While driving around in Fort Collins, Ryan guided us down a little street near a lake and a farmhouse, and there were a row of large trees missing their greenery in the harsh winter. Up at the top, standing no less than 3 ft. high, were two beautiful shadows. We stopped at the side of the road and looked up into the tree to see two bald eagles perched at the top, loading down the branch on which they were sitting, and making all of the birds in their vicinity look like crickets. These birds were not only beautiful, they were GIANT. The male stood very close close to his slightly smaller mate, and they literally held court over the cold, snowy mass. I'll never forget that.
7. First time shooting a firearm. I went with Ryan and his dad to the firing range. This was MY suggestion, even though I'd never shot a gun in my life. Ryan's dad owns two guns, but doesn't use them. When I suggested the firing range, he was like a kid in a candy store. So we went to the 'Candy Store'. At first, the sound scared me more than anything. I had a choice of shooting a 22 or a 357 magnum. I went with the magnum. I was so scared the first time I shot, my arms were shaking and I wasn't sure whether or not I could squeeze the trigger. My father in law reassured me, and showed me the proper way to shoot the magnum. I gripped it with a shaky hand, cupped it in my other hand, squeezed my right eye shut, located my target, and pulled the trigger of a gun for the first time. I heard the unholy sound of echoed explosion and realized that I didn't drop the gun or kill anyone. I did hit the target, but not in anywhere considered 'good'. I didn't miss it, though. And I shot another hundred rounds during the next hour we were there.
8. First time being a part of someone else's family: this time. They've always accepted me and they have always accepted my family, and now I am happy.
