I like Guinea pigs ... I've just never wanted to be one myself. At least until this latest money-making venture presented itself.
I was surfing Craigslist under gigs when I found a call for volunteers to partake in a potato study. It promised free potato samples and $30. Free food would have been enough for me, so I enthusiastically signed up.
The study was held at the university -- although many of the other 20-or-so participants looked less than scholarly. I tried especially hard to ignore one young faux-homeless couple who kept drawing on each others' arms, hugging and smooching to the point of almost making out. Right in the middle of the science! I mean, I like potatoes and all, but control yourself. I ignored them the best I could so I didn't spew my spuds.
Luckily the test started off simply, with a questionnaire about my potato habits and desires. I also had to rate different aspects of potatoes -- many of which I'd never thought of before, including how much I care about the vegetable's skin texture, starch resistance and antioxidant proprieties. Usually baked or fried is my biggest concern.
After the survey it was time to taste. We had three rounds of samples, starting with rating the look and appeal of some raw spuds. Luckily we didn't have to eat those. I gave them all high marks except the lady pinto potato, which was brown and purple and looked like it had leprosy. It got "unappealing."
Then we were handed five cups of sliced microwaved potatoes, followed by five more of the same variety that had been baked. We had to rate how bitter, salty, sour and sweet each one tasted, as well what it felt like in our mouth using adjectives like "dense, light, gummy and moist." Again, I've never thought this much about spuds. My favorites proved to be the gross-looking but great-tasting lady pinto potato and the purple majesty. The Aspen potato tasted like ass.
Finally, in the grand finale, we had a potato auction. Basically I had to write down the amount I'd be willing to pay for a bag of each potatoes. The winner would actually buy the item with real money. I guess this was to find out the market value for the items. I bid pretty low on most of the potatoes, but the purple majesties had my heart. I bid a whopping $2.50. And what do you know? I won!
I left the study with a full tummy, $27.50, a bag of purple potatoes and a new experience under my belt. Oh, and the results will help the potato people of America better price and market their spuds. Now I'm happy to add Guinea pig to my list of occupations.
Saturday, October 30, 2010
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
New #43: Vegetariansim
I love meat. I always have, and I'm pretty sure I always will. It's been a steadfast courtship that started at a young age with a love for hamburgers and my mom's spaghetti and meat sauce. Even in high school, when my best friends became vegans, I stood by with a steak burrito in hand and stayed true to my meat.
But just because I love meat is not to say I'm blind or insensitive to where it comes from. I admit, I've tried to ignore the horrible conditions some animals are raised in. I've also avoided any of the videos that show how badly the critters are treated. But in my adult life I've realized how not-OK I am with it all. So for this new, I decided to try giving up meat all together -- even if it was just for the week.
I'm happy to say my seven days of vegetarianism weren't all that bad. But they weren't that healthy, either. I didn't bother learning alternative forms of protein or trying new, lean recipes. Instead I just replaced meat with a lot of carbs and cheese. Like I said, not so healthy.
Breakfasts stayed the same for me, with a chocolate chip granola bar. Lunch was pretty standard too. I stuck with my Lean Cuisines and just made sure they were all meat-free. The vegetable egg roll was one of the highlights. Yumm.
Dinnertime was when my will was tested. To start, I had to turn down my free chicken stir fry dinners at the restaurant where I work. Instead I settled on rice and salad. Not quite as satisfying. At home, Ben and I made pasta. There was one night we got creative and made portobello mushroom "steaks," marinated, cooked on the grill and covered with cheese. It was delicious!
Things were going pretty well until the weekend. That's when I got a headache that would not quite. Could it be meat withdrawls? Maybe. Or could it have come from the other many stressors in my life? Very possible. Either way, things got really tough when my friends invited me out to eat. Yes, I could get a salad or something, but it's just not as good as a juicy hamburger with all the toppings. That night, I literally had a dream about a Chipotle steak burrito.
After my seventh day as a vegetarian, I was happy to zip over to Renzios and order a giant beef gyro. It was amazing.
Through my week, I did gain some satisfaction from not eating meat. However, it was hard to see the chicken stir fry cooked up and not being finished. Would it have been better to eat the chicken rather than let it go to waste? Also, I still ate a lot of dairy products and eggs. Really, the milk- and egg-producing animals can be just as abused as other farm creatures that are eaten for meat. If I ever do commit to doing away with meat, I would have to go all the way and became a vegan. Otherwise it seems like I'd be doing a half-ass job of saving animals.
Honestly though, I don't think I'm ready to break up with meat just yet. But I am going to make an effort to buy more organic and free-range meats to make sure the animals I'm eating had a better go of it. I bet they taste better too.
But just because I love meat is not to say I'm blind or insensitive to where it comes from. I admit, I've tried to ignore the horrible conditions some animals are raised in. I've also avoided any of the videos that show how badly the critters are treated. But in my adult life I've realized how not-OK I am with it all. So for this new, I decided to try giving up meat all together -- even if it was just for the week.
I'm happy to say my seven days of vegetarianism weren't all that bad. But they weren't that healthy, either. I didn't bother learning alternative forms of protein or trying new, lean recipes. Instead I just replaced meat with a lot of carbs and cheese. Like I said, not so healthy.
Breakfasts stayed the same for me, with a chocolate chip granola bar. Lunch was pretty standard too. I stuck with my Lean Cuisines and just made sure they were all meat-free. The vegetable egg roll was one of the highlights. Yumm.
Dinnertime was when my will was tested. To start, I had to turn down my free chicken stir fry dinners at the restaurant where I work. Instead I settled on rice and salad. Not quite as satisfying. At home, Ben and I made pasta. There was one night we got creative and made portobello mushroom "steaks," marinated, cooked on the grill and covered with cheese. It was delicious!
Things were going pretty well until the weekend. That's when I got a headache that would not quite. Could it be meat withdrawls? Maybe. Or could it have come from the other many stressors in my life? Very possible. Either way, things got really tough when my friends invited me out to eat. Yes, I could get a salad or something, but it's just not as good as a juicy hamburger with all the toppings. That night, I literally had a dream about a Chipotle steak burrito.
After my seventh day as a vegetarian, I was happy to zip over to Renzios and order a giant beef gyro. It was amazing.
Through my week, I did gain some satisfaction from not eating meat. However, it was hard to see the chicken stir fry cooked up and not being finished. Would it have been better to eat the chicken rather than let it go to waste? Also, I still ate a lot of dairy products and eggs. Really, the milk- and egg-producing animals can be just as abused as other farm creatures that are eaten for meat. If I ever do commit to doing away with meat, I would have to go all the way and became a vegan. Otherwise it seems like I'd be doing a half-ass job of saving animals.
Honestly though, I don't think I'm ready to break up with meat just yet. But I am going to make an effort to buy more organic and free-range meats to make sure the animals I'm eating had a better go of it. I bet they taste better too.
Monday, October 18, 2010
New #42: Save the Dolphins
I've never been one of those in-your-face environmental activists. PETA, for example, scared me away long ago when it suggested Ben and Jerry's start using women's breast milk instead of cow's milk for their ice cream. Not the kind of organization I want my name next to. Instead, I've always done my part for the earth silently and solo by recycling, turning off lights and snipping the plastic rings that hold a six-pack of soda.
Then I watched "The Cove." It's a documentary about the semi-secret slaughter of dolphins in a Japanese fishing village. And it was horrifying. Basically, these fishermen coral hundreds of dolphins at a time into a little cove, where they then spear each and every one of them until the sea is literally a blood bath. Watching it made me sick to my stomach.
The entire movie was very one-sided, which I don't usually buy in to. But it was hard to argue with the images shown. And personally, I just don't think stabbing to death thousands of dolphins each year is right. So I made it a mission to help save the dolphins.
Luckily, the Save Japan's Dolphins initiative made it easy for this Colorado landlubber. To start, I was able to donate some money to the cause. It wasn't much, but more than anything it showed my support and backing.
Next, I signed a petition to stop the slaughter, which will apparently be sent to the President and all other sorts of dignitaries. The Internet makes things so easy! All I had to do was fill in my name and basic info, write a little note, and click "submit" to sign my digital signature.
Step three for me was getting the word out, say, through a blog. So here is more info about the cause and how you can help. Also, make sure and see "The Cove" for yourself.
One last note: the movie also inspired next week's new: Vegetarianism.
Then I watched "The Cove." It's a documentary about the semi-secret slaughter of dolphins in a Japanese fishing village. And it was horrifying. Basically, these fishermen coral hundreds of dolphins at a time into a little cove, where they then spear each and every one of them until the sea is literally a blood bath. Watching it made me sick to my stomach.
The entire movie was very one-sided, which I don't usually buy in to. But it was hard to argue with the images shown. And personally, I just don't think stabbing to death thousands of dolphins each year is right. So I made it a mission to help save the dolphins.
Luckily, the Save Japan's Dolphins initiative made it easy for this Colorado landlubber. To start, I was able to donate some money to the cause. It wasn't much, but more than anything it showed my support and backing.
Next, I signed a petition to stop the slaughter, which will apparently be sent to the President and all other sorts of dignitaries. The Internet makes things so easy! All I had to do was fill in my name and basic info, write a little note, and click "submit" to sign my digital signature.
Step three for me was getting the word out, say, through a blog. So here is more info about the cause and how you can help. Also, make sure and see "The Cove" for yourself.
One last note: the movie also inspired next week's new: Vegetarianism.
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
New #41: Furoshiki
Furo-what? Yeah, that's what I said when I stumbled upon a video about this unpronounceable idea. However, I soon learned that actually trying out the craft is much more simple than its funny foreign name. Basically, furoshiki is a style of square cloth that ancient Japanese people used in a time before plastic bags to wrap up anything they needed to take with them. While I have no idea what the verb may be for this craft, just think of it as origami, only using fabric instead of paper. And the results are way more practical than a paper crane.
The video I found was demonstrating a few different variations of furoshiki wrapping. Apparently regular wrapping paper is so last year, because now people are bundling up gifts in funky (and reusable) cloths. I thought that was kinda neat, until I saw that you can easy make a cute little bag with just a few knots. Cool! Now that's the kind of furoshiki I'm talking about.
In the video, the tutor makes it all look so easy, moving her hands over the fabric like an Asian Vanna White, gracefully tying knots and magically making a purse. While anything that looks "really easy" usually isn't the first time around, this was actually pretty painless - even for me.
I'd bought a gaudy square of fabric to make into my purse (I didn't know how big it needed to be, so I just asked the lady for a large square. She said it's about a yard and a half). The first step was to fold the fabric in half, with the bottom of the fabric facing outward. This actually ended up being the hardest part of the project. Seriously. It was hard to make the corners match just-so like that bag-making-master did in the video. But oh well, I got it close enough.
My unfolded fabric before the project began.
Next I had to tie a knot on the two bottom corners of the triangle. My picture kind of shows how this is done - although I would definitely recommend watching the video for a real explanation.
At first, the completed purse wasn't really fooling anyone. It just looked like a yard-and-a-half of fabric tied together, like something a hobo might carry on the end of a stick. But after putting a few heavy books in it, and tying two little bows on the straps to give it more shape, the bag really did start to come together.
So maybe it's not going to be my new daily purse, but it will be perfect as a beach bag, grocery bag or party trick.
The video I found was demonstrating a few different variations of furoshiki wrapping. Apparently regular wrapping paper is so last year, because now people are bundling up gifts in funky (and reusable) cloths. I thought that was kinda neat, until I saw that you can easy make a cute little bag with just a few knots. Cool! Now that's the kind of furoshiki I'm talking about.
In the video, the tutor makes it all look so easy, moving her hands over the fabric like an Asian Vanna White, gracefully tying knots and magically making a purse. While anything that looks "really easy" usually isn't the first time around, this was actually pretty painless - even for me.
I'd bought a gaudy square of fabric to make into my purse (I didn't know how big it needed to be, so I just asked the lady for a large square. She said it's about a yard and a half). The first step was to fold the fabric in half, with the bottom of the fabric facing outward. This actually ended up being the hardest part of the project. Seriously. It was hard to make the corners match just-so like that bag-making-master did in the video. But oh well, I got it close enough.
My unfolded fabric before the project began.Next I had to tie a knot on the two bottom corners of the triangle. My picture kind of shows how this is done - although I would definitely recommend watching the video for a real explanation.
With the two knots tied, I turned the bag right-side-out. I tied together the two corners on top and Viola! I made a bag! It took me literally about five minutes. And I'm a slow worker.
At first, the completed purse wasn't really fooling anyone. It just looked like a yard-and-a-half of fabric tied together, like something a hobo might carry on the end of a stick. But after putting a few heavy books in it, and tying two little bows on the straps to give it more shape, the bag really did start to come together.
So maybe it's not going to be my new daily purse, but it will be perfect as a beach bag, grocery bag or party trick.
Thursday, October 7, 2010
New #40: Las Vegas Casino Games
Gambling is no new for me. Neither is Vegas. In fact, the two are separately some of my favorite things in life, and pretty much the best thing ever when combined. Yet through my gambling days in the city of sin, there have been some Vegas games I've shied away from. Some seemed either too intimidating, too risky or too obscure to try. But with two of my very best friends getting married in Vegas, I decided to take the opportunity to roll the dice on a few news.
O'Shea's, one of our favorite gambling hot spots.
First up was roulette. Unlike the more intense version Russian Roulette, (which my friend Casey swears is "really fun"), I opted for the tamer style with the ball and that spinny things. I didn't really know the rules beyond the basics -- but luckily friends aren't hard to make on the gambling tables. A nice boy from Kentucky showed me where to place my chips, how to split a bet, and other things I don't remember (yeah, so what if I was under the influence? It's Vegas, people). I kept betting on 21, my lucky number, which sadly proved to be unlucky that night. Sigh. No winning with roulette for Sarah.
The next game was a great surprise that I never imagined to play for money: WAR. Yessssss. Remember? It's that game you play when you're between 5 and 10 years old? The one that takes no more skill than flipping over a card and seeing whose is higher? Yeah, that game. I love it! Money went by pretty quickly for $5 a card. But it was fun to heckle the dealer. My first war with him was especially intense. I think we even got into a few double wars. But I was a good warrior and didn't lose too much money. I'm definitely finding this game next time I'm in Vegas.
The beautiful bride and her bridesmaids at the war table.
Through my gambling adventures I also tried to learn craps. Sadly, no one would teach me how to play. Each time I'd ask a friend or stranger, they would say they don't know what they're doing themselves. Really? The strategy is fake it till you make it? I doubt that. But whatever, maybe I just wasn't meant to play that crappy game anyway.
Overall my Vegas gambling adventures weren't that fruitful. I left with about $50 less than I started -- which probably isn't really that bad. The best part of this new was what got me to Vegas in the first place: Erica and Jeff's wedding. It was an amazingly perfect day for two amazingly awesome people. Now they get to start a whole new life of news together. Love you guys!!
O'Shea's, one of our favorite gambling hot spots.First up was roulette. Unlike the more intense version Russian Roulette, (which my friend Casey swears is "really fun"), I opted for the tamer style with the ball and that spinny things. I didn't really know the rules beyond the basics -- but luckily friends aren't hard to make on the gambling tables. A nice boy from Kentucky showed me where to place my chips, how to split a bet, and other things I don't remember (yeah, so what if I was under the influence? It's Vegas, people). I kept betting on 21, my lucky number, which sadly proved to be unlucky that night. Sigh. No winning with roulette for Sarah.
The next game was a great surprise that I never imagined to play for money: WAR. Yessssss. Remember? It's that game you play when you're between 5 and 10 years old? The one that takes no more skill than flipping over a card and seeing whose is higher? Yeah, that game. I love it! Money went by pretty quickly for $5 a card. But it was fun to heckle the dealer. My first war with him was especially intense. I think we even got into a few double wars. But I was a good warrior and didn't lose too much money. I'm definitely finding this game next time I'm in Vegas.
The beautiful bride and her bridesmaids at the war table. Through my gambling adventures I also tried to learn craps. Sadly, no one would teach me how to play. Each time I'd ask a friend or stranger, they would say they don't know what they're doing themselves. Really? The strategy is fake it till you make it? I doubt that. But whatever, maybe I just wasn't meant to play that crappy game anyway.
Overall my Vegas gambling adventures weren't that fruitful. I left with about $50 less than I started -- which probably isn't really that bad. The best part of this new was what got me to Vegas in the first place: Erica and Jeff's wedding. It was an amazingly perfect day for two amazingly awesome people. Now they get to start a whole new life of news together. Love you guys!!
Sunday, September 26, 2010
New #39: Tarot Card Reading
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.
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 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.
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