This weekend, I had an eerily familiar experience with my beautiful Lulu. Meet the ex at a public place, drop off the offspring, part ways. It reminded me of the times my brother and I were dropped off in Acton, CA when my Mom and Dad did the switch. This time, it was Aly and I at a Sinclair gas station in Cedar City.
Lulu and I decided that we would stay in the San Frans east of Wah Wah Valley. It was EYE-SO-LATE-TED.
Lulu was so happy, she was jumping for jerky, I mean, joy!
The idea was to look at the local geology, but it was closed-off mine property, so hiking was a minimum.
Lulu had better ideas than hiking…
The desert flowers were certainly out, in all kinds of colors. They all seemed to be the same species, but the colors were very varied. Lulu appreciated one barb a little too much (in her paw), but she handled it like a breeze!
Lulu, the Conjurer of Storms, decided the day was not fun enough, and a storm needed to brew, even though this type of weather is common for August, not May.
A small one in the Wah Wah hardpan fizzled…
…but some cool looking sandstorms were kicked up.
The next storm from the east was much more potent, so we hid in our tent… er… the back of my truck…
…and the Gods slept.
It was a fun little trip. We hiked a little (when Lulu was not too tired), saw an Antelope pretty close, a sleepy snake, and several bunnies that I had a better chance of catching than Lulu.
And now, the best picture I ever took of Lulu, and dare I say, the best pic of her ever.
How I got her to do that, I’ll never know.
Now, time to ready for tomorrow… leave for (what could be the last time at my current job) the field for the week tomorrow.
P.S. My newest music obsession: Lily Allen… I know what you’re thinking; not what I usually listen to… but she’s more musically inclined than you’re average Diva AND she writes her own music (at least in part) AND she is self-made AND she sings about dirty things AND she has a tat of Homer Simpson AND she hates dubya and the like (re:the song Fuck You) AND she has a third nipple. What more could you want in a singer?











































































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