Bishop and I have been together for a very long time. Longer then the time it takes a beehive to out of style then back in style. (Has it ever been out of style? I’m bad at examples today!) We have been together for so long that no one is starting to wonder how a relationship between a polar bear and an otter works. (It works on love, commitment, and sometimes having to deal with the whole height issue thing.) I’m always on the road traveling and sending postcards with my best buddy Mr. C. Cow while Bishop working hard at the equipment shop. When we both have a bit of free time we like to go someplace romantic (Woo Woo!) and enjoy each other’s company. The being “just the two of us” part is sometimes hard when Mr. C. is involved.
Case in point: This past week Bishop wasn’t busy at the shop and we were close to home so he asked if I would like to accompany him for a romantic dinner. I, of course, said YES and went off to primp my hair to large, amorous proportions while Bishop took off the hard hat (He doesn’t always wear one!) and brushed his furs. Mr. C. Cow was FURIOUS at us!
“Why can’t I go have dinner with you guys? I like dinner!” -Mr. C. Cow
“It’s a “romantic dinner” and we would like to take some time to spend together.” – Me
“I like romantic dinners!! Those are the ones where you get to eat candles right?” – Mr. C. Cow
This went on for quite some time until Marslean stepped in and offered to dine with (code word for “watch”) Mr. C. for the night. She promised him candles as long as he didn’t try to eat them. There were promises of a hay appetizer followed by some sort of fancy berry desert that would more then make up for his exclusion from our date night.
This worked out splendidly! (As far as we knew at that time.) We drank champagne, danced, ate, and enjoyed each others company all evening long. Stories were told of how we met and how we ended up together. When Bishop tried to pick up a tiny wine glass with his giant paws I giggled just as he giggled at my colossal hair knocking over a floral arrangement. Having the time alone was wonderful and we sorely needed it.
When we returned our greeting was in the form of toilet paper stuck to the ceiling as if by some magical force. Shaving cream covering a bulldozer. A cow asleep on a pile of candles. Marslean almost in a panic over a box of soggy pizza. Our night might have went beautifully but something happened at home.
I wonder what it was……
I took photos in Second Life and used them. Huzzah!
Using a wok in a small kitchen can be hazardous to your health. After attempting to use a wok in the camper and accidentally jabbing Mr. C. Cow in the side with the handle we decided to go out to eat. We saw a fancy hotel with a restaurant just up the road a few miles that gave us the opportunity to put on something fancy. It also prevented any more handle stabbings for the evening.
Donning our finest finery we were seated at a lovely table and given their best bottle of wine. Mr. C. Cow couldn’t stop laughing at my hair as it seemed to blend into the plants behind me. I told him it wasn’t funny as I was just coordinating my outfit to my surroundings. (Don’t tell him I did that on accident!). The food was amazing but my laughing cow companion was the best part of the meal. I’ve never seen one cow eat so many deserts at one sitting! I sure hope he doesn’t get camper sick!
Your probably under the impression, with all of the postcards we send you, that we seem to eat a lot of food. Mr. C. Cow and I would like to point out that there are three meals a day and we do use our camper kitchen often as well as a travel grill to make many of our meals. Like a person on one of those facespace insta-graham cracker picture things we are guilty of taking pictures of food and sharing. Many of the places seem to have awesome postcards in the gift shops as well. In our defense it’s sometimes easier to eat at a lovely place we find while on the road then trying to cook together in a camper kitchen. Mr. C. Cow is so beefy that I sometimes have to stand in the sink to season things. It’s not pretty.
We decided to take a break from sleeping in the camper and check out a motel for the night. There are two very valid reasons to spend the money although we already have a place to sleep. Mr. C. Cow wanted to stay in a bed that wasn’t in a moving vehicle and I wanted to air the camper out do to SOMEONE (I’m not saying who) eating chili before we drove down a windy mountain road. I’m going to find a detailer to clean out the inside and ban the eating of chili while the vehicle is moving. It’s getting to the point where I’m going to have to hang up a dry erase board with rules on it.
#143 – No eating chili while the camper is moving.
We found a motel that was inexpensive and had a pool that a cow could float around in. I thought the place went a little overboard with the pink decor but Mr. C. Cow thought it was “quaint”. At least the place was clean.
The pink decor didn’t stop on the outside but spilled into the rooms itself. Pink flamingo decor. Pink walls. Even the maids cart was pink. When this place decided to go with the whole pink motif they really stuck with it! I was kinda amazed that the pool wasn’t pink but then again it’s probably for the best. Watching a cow float around in a pink pool on a pink inner tube would look more like he was some sort of garnish in a giant cocktail.
When I was paying and Mr. C. Cow was smelling the campers fresh new camper smell I browsed through their items for sale. I picked up a pink postcard and a pair of pink sunglasses. Sometimes the world needs to be looked at through pink glasses. Just don’t put them on and try to drink pool water.