Psychics are pretty cool. I love the idea of a clairvoyant tapping into my deepest soul to tell me about who I really am -- all while I ponder the mystery of whether it's real or not ... then wonder if they just heard me think that. Last weekend I got to deal with many mediums while covering the Loveland holistic fair, which was pretty much a pow-wow for psychics. I decided to join in the fun and get a reading myself, opting for a tarot card reading.
I stalked each booth and psychic, trying to feel if any were right for me. After a few laps, with my own psychic powers tingling, I picked out my clairvoyant. I didn't see her name, but I liked her long red hair -- and the fact she didn't look crazy. Always a plus ... or so I thought.
After sitting down, she asked me what question I wanted answered. I hadn't really thought that far ahead. Although there are many changes making their way into my life, I opted for the most exciting prospect in my future to focus on -- which is the possibility of moving to Brazil. However, I didn't tell this to her. Should I have? I don't really know psychic etiquette. Do I have to spell it out for them? Or aren't they already supposed to know? I just said I'm facing some crossroads in my life, which she said is happening for everyone right now. How mystical.
After a little chit chat, the medium started playing with the colorful tarot cards. I was asked to pick a few out, which she then placed in some order on the table. Apparently this was mapping the spiritual path ahead of me. The cards' designs just looked like random people and objects to me, but supposedly my psychic could decipher it all to tell me my future.
With the cards in place, she began my reading. Sadly, it quickly became apparent how powerless her psychic powers really were.
To start, she told me I need to be more self-disciplined. Hmm. That's not really a problem for me one bit (which should be proof through my dedication to this new year's resolution).
Then she started going into my family, that I need to quit rebelling against them and just accept they will always have an impact on my life. OK... Anyone who knows me can vouch this totally does not apply. Me and my family are pretty tight. No rebelling for Sarah.
Next came the kicker. This woman looked me in the face and told me "You need to quit relying on your blond hair and blue eyes, and start backing up your work." Wow. Bitch. She basically just told me I can't keep skating by on my looks and need to learn how to be a better reporter. Once again, this is not a problem that remotely applies to me. At all.
By now I knew my $10 was a sacrifice to the trying-something-new gods, because a new experience was all I was gaining from this reading. It's not like she was saying vague things that might somehow apply to me. No, she was giving me pretty specific ideas that were actually completely opposite of who I am. (Trust me, I confirmed this with my friends/family/husband, who assured me I'm not just lying to myself about these traits). Among my other favorite pointers were that "I need to be less solitaire" (hello, how much more does this social butterfly need to spread her wings?), and that "I'm probably looking for a husband" (Umm, did her psychic powers override her common sense to look at my ring finger?).
After each deep thought, she would eagerly look at me, expecting me to cry out with enlightenment or something. Again, what is the proper psychic etiquette here? Do I tell her she's completely wrong? I decided to just go with it and kind of nodded with each reading and suggestion.
I left with my wallet $10 lighter, and the parting wisdom that, I shit you not, "Next spring something might change ... or might not."
Here's my own psychic reading: I can look into the future and see myself never seeking a tarot card reading again - at least from that woman.
Sunday, September 26, 2010
Sunday, September 19, 2010
New #38: Letterboxing
Letterboxing. Slang for ignoring emails? A style of learning the alphabet? An extreme post office sport? Errr. None of the above.
Actually, Letterboxing is a somewhat-underground scavenger hunt, with clues posted online leading to treasures hidden around the world. It's actually pretty simple. You decipher the hints, which take you on a journey around town to a small box buried somewhere along the way. Inside the box is a stamp and notebook. Your "treasure" is getting to ink the hunt's stamp in your book, and leave your mark in theirs. So it's a pretty simple pay-off - but very fun getting there.
Last weekend Ben and I decided to give it a go ourselves. I went to Letterboxing.org and looked under hunts in our area. There were about a dozen in Fort Collins. Being the sleuths we are, Ben and I chose one with lots of clues. The first clue was "Sail west along the course Sir Francis _______ might have taken." Ben knew this was Drake, so sail along Drake Avenue we did.
A few more clues and turns took us to a park, where we were told to find a watermelon. Now, this was a pretty big park, and we weren't sure how large these watermelons might be. In our search through the park we awkwardly wandered through every picnic area, around trees and often stopped in the middle of the grass to look around. To the families surrounding us in the park, we must have definitely looked like creeps - which I soon realized comes with the letterboxing territory. The entire hunt we made ourselves look painfully out of place, slinking around like we were up to no good. If only they knew we were in search of buried treasure ... which I guess still sounds a little weird.
Soon our creepiness paid off and we found two watermelon sculptures. From there we had to take "a compass bearing of 290 degrees." Hmmm. We were bad explorers and didn't have a compass on us. But Boy Scout Benny is always prepared, so he just downloaded one onto his fancy phone. Even then, we didn't really know how to use a compass (apparently Ben flunked out of Boy Scouts before that badge). So we just guessed and walked the only way we thought might be right.
Ben consulting the clues by the watermelons.
Luckily, our intuition paid off and we "crossed a pink sidewalk three times" as directed before moving on to the next clues. Here we were once again unprepared, as it took us on a hike up into the foothills. With sandals, skinny jeans and a Starbuck's in hand, we were again looking awkward and out of place as we passed the hardcore hikers along the way. But we were on a mission, this time searching for three tall, dead trees.
Off we go up the trail.
About a half-mile into the hike, it wasn't looking good. There weren't any trees - let alone dead ones. Ahh, but that's when we saw the telephone poles, stacked three in a row. Eureka!
Looooook!
To add to the treasure's theatrical drama (most likely not by the author's intent), there was a swarm of hornets buzzing around the poles. The horrifying situation was topped off when we lifted the rocks and three of the bugs flew out from underneath. Scary. But we'd found the box.
The letterbox.
Inside was a cute little book that talked about the prairie dogs that live in the area. A few pages in began the collection of visitors' stamps, which were all pretty cool. Sadly, we were once again unprepared and hadn't brought any ink to make our stamp. So we got creative and used some sticky black goo left on Ben's knife to leave a distorted mark on the page. I also used a rock to indent the paper with our names and the date. Sadly, it seems we're even creeps among letterboxers. But oh well. We'd left our mark to prove we conquered our first letterboxing adventure.
Cute stamps vs. our stamp.
Actually, Letterboxing is a somewhat-underground scavenger hunt, with clues posted online leading to treasures hidden around the world. It's actually pretty simple. You decipher the hints, which take you on a journey around town to a small box buried somewhere along the way. Inside the box is a stamp and notebook. Your "treasure" is getting to ink the hunt's stamp in your book, and leave your mark in theirs. So it's a pretty simple pay-off - but very fun getting there.
Last weekend Ben and I decided to give it a go ourselves. I went to Letterboxing.org and looked under hunts in our area. There were about a dozen in Fort Collins. Being the sleuths we are, Ben and I chose one with lots of clues. The first clue was "Sail west along the course Sir Francis _______ might have taken." Ben knew this was Drake, so sail along Drake Avenue we did.
A few more clues and turns took us to a park, where we were told to find a watermelon. Now, this was a pretty big park, and we weren't sure how large these watermelons might be. In our search through the park we awkwardly wandered through every picnic area, around trees and often stopped in the middle of the grass to look around. To the families surrounding us in the park, we must have definitely looked like creeps - which I soon realized comes with the letterboxing territory. The entire hunt we made ourselves look painfully out of place, slinking around like we were up to no good. If only they knew we were in search of buried treasure ... which I guess still sounds a little weird.
Soon our creepiness paid off and we found two watermelon sculptures. From there we had to take "a compass bearing of 290 degrees." Hmmm. We were bad explorers and didn't have a compass on us. But Boy Scout Benny is always prepared, so he just downloaded one onto his fancy phone. Even then, we didn't really know how to use a compass (apparently Ben flunked out of Boy Scouts before that badge). So we just guessed and walked the only way we thought might be right.
Ben consulting the clues by the watermelons.Luckily, our intuition paid off and we "crossed a pink sidewalk three times" as directed before moving on to the next clues. Here we were once again unprepared, as it took us on a hike up into the foothills. With sandals, skinny jeans and a Starbuck's in hand, we were again looking awkward and out of place as we passed the hardcore hikers along the way. But we were on a mission, this time searching for three tall, dead trees.
Off we go up the trail.About a half-mile into the hike, it wasn't looking good. There weren't any trees - let alone dead ones. Ahh, but that's when we saw the telephone poles, stacked three in a row. Eureka!
Looooook!
The letterbox.
Inside was a cute little book that talked about the prairie dogs that live in the area. A few pages in began the collection of visitors' stamps, which were all pretty cool. Sadly, we were once again unprepared and hadn't brought any ink to make our stamp. So we got creative and used some sticky black goo left on Ben's knife to leave a distorted mark on the page. I also used a rock to indent the paper with our names and the date. Sadly, it seems we're even creeps among letterboxers. But oh well. We'd left our mark to prove we conquered our first letterboxing adventure.
Cute stamps vs. our stamp.
Thursday, September 16, 2010
New #37: Find the Wyoming Pyramid
With a day off work and an itch to get out of town, Ben and I decided to take a random adventure. Just short of throwing our pointed finger down on a spinning globe, we turned to the Internet to find our day's jaunt. We were searching Wyoming points of interest when we found a small narration about the state's giant pyramid. What? A giant pyramid in Wyoming? That was enough for us. We hopped in the car and headed to the frontier to find the fabled Ames Monument.
Like many adventures, the journey there was just as fun as reaching the destination. We stopped in Cheyenne and dined in the city's giant railroad station. Heading east through the plains, we spotted lots of antelope and even a buffalo. We also took a quick detour to see another point of interest, the Lone Tree - a seemingly simple attraction with a sweet history behind it.
After a few hours of driving and stopping, Ben and I turned down a deserted dirt road leading to the pyramid. We couldn't see anything but rolling prairies for the first few minutes, especially in my little car that was vigorously vibrating under the rocky road. But then, silhouetted by the sun, it appeared: the Ames Monument. And yes, a pyramid in the middle of Wyoming really is just as random as we suspected.
The Ames Monument has a history nearly as quirky as its existence. It was created to pay homage to Oliver Ames, president of the Union Pacific Railroad, and his brother Oakes, a congressman million. Now, these two were not necessarily monument-worthy. Both were known for bribing, inflating construction costs and overall fraudulent activities. At least they used their sinful fortunes to help connect the first transcontinental railroad tracks. But ultimately their wrongdoings were uncovered, and both brothers quickly died of shame (as it would seem). Hoping to polish the scandal off its reputation, the Union Pacific came up with one sure-fire to do it: a giant granite pyramid, of course.
It was built in the 1880s near a little railroad town (which has apparently gone the way of the buffalo), and the railroad tracks (which have since been moved far, far away). Personally, I like it that the mammoth monument is all alone. Standing 60 feet high with a 60-foot base, it really looks like something left over from a civilization long passed.
A view from the base of the pyramid. As you can see, there's not much around.
The hurricane-strong wind blowing the day of our visit only added to its unusual allure. Ben and I strolled around the base, admiring the pretty pink rocks and carved portraits of the brothers' faces. Without a gift shop, we didn't stay too long - but the Wyoming's pyramid was definitely an oddity worth visiting.
Like many adventures, the journey there was just as fun as reaching the destination. We stopped in Cheyenne and dined in the city's giant railroad station. Heading east through the plains, we spotted lots of antelope and even a buffalo. We also took a quick detour to see another point of interest, the Lone Tree - a seemingly simple attraction with a sweet history behind it.
After a few hours of driving and stopping, Ben and I turned down a deserted dirt road leading to the pyramid. We couldn't see anything but rolling prairies for the first few minutes, especially in my little car that was vigorously vibrating under the rocky road. But then, silhouetted by the sun, it appeared: the Ames Monument. And yes, a pyramid in the middle of Wyoming really is just as random as we suspected.
The Ames Monument has a history nearly as quirky as its existence. It was created to pay homage to Oliver Ames, president of the Union Pacific Railroad, and his brother Oakes, a congressman million. Now, these two were not necessarily monument-worthy. Both were known for bribing, inflating construction costs and overall fraudulent activities. At least they used their sinful fortunes to help connect the first transcontinental railroad tracks. But ultimately their wrongdoings were uncovered, and both brothers quickly died of shame (as it would seem). Hoping to polish the scandal off its reputation, the Union Pacific came up with one sure-fire to do it: a giant granite pyramid, of course.
It was built in the 1880s near a little railroad town (which has apparently gone the way of the buffalo), and the railroad tracks (which have since been moved far, far away). Personally, I like it that the mammoth monument is all alone. Standing 60 feet high with a 60-foot base, it really looks like something left over from a civilization long passed.
A view from the base of the pyramid. As you can see, there's not much around.The hurricane-strong wind blowing the day of our visit only added to its unusual allure. Ben and I strolled around the base, admiring the pretty pink rocks and carved portraits of the brothers' faces. Without a gift shop, we didn't stay too long - but the Wyoming's pyramid was definitely an oddity worth visiting.
Saturday, September 4, 2010
New #36: Tour de Fat
Beer. Bicycles. Costumes. Parade. Can we say dream come true? Yes we can. It's pronounced Tour de Fat.
This annual gem is something that's been riding through Fort Collins for years, created by the city's very own New Belgium Brewery. As if the brewery wasn't awesome enough for creating Fat Tire and Sunshine beer, or offering free drinks and tours daily, it really one-upped itself by inventing the Tour de Fat. The company, owned by environmental enthusiasts, made the tour to honor an efficient mode of transportation: the bicycle. Over the years the romp evolved from a 10-mile trek to what it is today - a 10,000-strong bicycle parade through downtown. I can't for the life of me understand why I didn't take part in it all sooner. But after my first ride, I know I'll never miss it again.
Like many new things I'm experiencing, this one started in the morning. But that didn't mean we couldn't enjoy ourselves with a few celebratory drinks. So I had a shot or two at 8:30 a.m. - but with everyone dressed up in their finest and funkiest costumes, it just seemed right. I was She-Ra the Princess of Power, and Ben was Elliott with ET in a milk crate on the front of his bike. Other friends dressed as Spiderman, a gorilla and a slew of steam punks. The costumes were cool enough on their own, but even more bitchin on bikes.
After getting pumped up by throwing a few back, we rode off to Old Town Fort Collins. We were still on the outskirt of downtown when we hit a wall of hundreds of others on their bikes. It seemed like the entire city came out for the parade. Everyone dressed up, with lots of people decking out their bikes, too.
Because there were so many people, we never got up to the front of the crowd to hear any kind of start or kick off. Instead, we slowly started moving forward, scooting our feet on the ground, until we had room to pick up speed. Soon enough we were riding through town. The event had closed off all the streets just for bicycles. Good thing, because it was hard enough riding and dodging the hundreds of bikes around you, let alone cars, too. With so many two-wheelers (and maybe a little too much beer in our systems) there were a few crashes. But each time we got back up and were able to pedal forward through the few miles of the parade. I was surprised to see people lined up in lawn chairs along the way. Then again, it was quite a sight to see.
The parade ended back at the brewery, where a festival was already underway. Concerts and beer tents were plenty, as well as an amazing ring of bike jousting. All in all, Tour de Fat is a Tour de Awesome in my book.
This annual gem is something that's been riding through Fort Collins for years, created by the city's very own New Belgium Brewery. As if the brewery wasn't awesome enough for creating Fat Tire and Sunshine beer, or offering free drinks and tours daily, it really one-upped itself by inventing the Tour de Fat. The company, owned by environmental enthusiasts, made the tour to honor an efficient mode of transportation: the bicycle. Over the years the romp evolved from a 10-mile trek to what it is today - a 10,000-strong bicycle parade through downtown. I can't for the life of me understand why I didn't take part in it all sooner. But after my first ride, I know I'll never miss it again.
Like many new things I'm experiencing, this one started in the morning. But that didn't mean we couldn't enjoy ourselves with a few celebratory drinks. So I had a shot or two at 8:30 a.m. - but with everyone dressed up in their finest and funkiest costumes, it just seemed right. I was She-Ra the Princess of Power, and Ben was Elliott with ET in a milk crate on the front of his bike. Other friends dressed as Spiderman, a gorilla and a slew of steam punks. The costumes were cool enough on their own, but even more bitchin on bikes.
After getting pumped up by throwing a few back, we rode off to Old Town Fort Collins. We were still on the outskirt of downtown when we hit a wall of hundreds of others on their bikes. It seemed like the entire city came out for the parade. Everyone dressed up, with lots of people decking out their bikes, too.
Because there were so many people, we never got up to the front of the crowd to hear any kind of start or kick off. Instead, we slowly started moving forward, scooting our feet on the ground, until we had room to pick up speed. Soon enough we were riding through town. The event had closed off all the streets just for bicycles. Good thing, because it was hard enough riding and dodging the hundreds of bikes around you, let alone cars, too. With so many two-wheelers (and maybe a little too much beer in our systems) there were a few crashes. But each time we got back up and were able to pedal forward through the few miles of the parade. I was surprised to see people lined up in lawn chairs along the way. Then again, it was quite a sight to see.
The parade ended back at the brewery, where a festival was already underway. Concerts and beer tents were plenty, as well as an amazing ring of bike jousting. All in all, Tour de Fat is a Tour de Awesome in my book.
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