Pontoon 31
August 20, 2011 § 7 Comments
Dom turned 31 on August 8th.
Why not rent a pontoon and spend the whole day on Jackson Lake with eight of our friends, swimming, playing, floating, diving, eating, listening to music, chatting and laughing to celebrate?
Let’s do it.
It was cold in the morning, hence all the jackets and leggings.
But it warmed up–well, the weather did, the water stayed a balmy 60 degrees. Too cold for Lacy, Lindsey and I to enjoy diving in, but warm enough for the guys to jump off the boat like giddy little boys challenging each other in dive contests.
Notice Dom’s unique diving skills.
When they got tired, and a bit cold from diving, we all just relaxed on the boat, driving it all around the Grand Teton range, and floating in the water.
We felt so close to the mountains that if we just swam to shore we could easily hike up a peak–too bad we didn’t bring hiking shoes with us.
Dom loved it. He was on top of the world that day, as everyone should be on their birthday. We were in awe of how he never dreamed he would spend his 31st bday jumping off a pontoon by the Grand Tetons in Wyoming.
I don’t think he even knew what a pontoon was until a few days before his birthday.
Where in the world will we spend his next bday?
We can’t wait to find out.
America through Travelers’ Eyes
August 14, 2011 § 6 Comments
“How do you say this?” my Chinese co-worker Oscar said while miming himself haphazardly putting on ChapStick.
“ChapStick?” I said, feeling a little confused as I stood near the counter at the Pioneer Grill, waiting for customers during a lull at work.
“OK! How do you say this?” he said while miming himself eating rapidly with chopsticks.
“Chooopsticks,” I said, getting his drift.
“Ohhhhhhhhh!” he said excitedly. “The other day someone ask me for ChapStick. I thought they said chopsticks, so I hand them my chopsticks I carry with me, and they did not want them,” he said.
I cracked up. And so did he.
“Thank you sooo much for your help Sherri!!!”
I love working with internationals. It always makes me see my language and culture in a new light.
The other day I had a family from France who I served pancakes with maple syrup, and omelets with white toast. The three children spoke English better than most other French kids I had met. I asked the parents why their English was so good. They said it was because they watch T.V. in English.
“Great! What’s your favorite T.V. show?” I asked the kids.
“Zee Simpsons!” each child declared in a lilting French accent.
What a way to learn English.
Yesterday I had an adorable elderly British lady sit in my bay. She had soup for her meal and asked for ice cream for dessert. When I brought her her one scoop of strawberry ice cream in a waffle cone she almost fell out her spinning chair.
“Dear me!! Why everything is double the size here in America compared to England! How can I eat all this?! This is horrible!” she said.
I didn’t think having an extra-large ice cream cone could be that bad. But then we got to talking about how Americans waste so much food that could help so many countries. Right next to her an older couple had ordered two sandwiches, two massive platters of chili fries and onion rings, and huckleberry pie a la mode for just the two of them.
“But you all did help us in the War and send us food, so at least you all are generous,” she said while elegantly licking her strawberry ice cream.
I served a family of four from England four meals in a row during their stay. We had some lovely conversations. The 14-year-old son couldn’t get over how great America is: expansive, beautiful, different in each part of the country, delicious food, and cheap shopping.
“England is rubbish. I want to study in America and live here one day,” he said, his eyes glowing with delight as he took another bite of his chili dog.
Kiwis from New Zealand tell me how much the Grand Teton National Park reminds them of NZ. They feel like they get a taste of home while they are here.
I agree, and rave about how the first time I came here I felt like I was back in New Zealand driving on the vast, endless two lane roads through the mountains again. One Kiwi was so happy to hear me laud NZ he gave me a Silver Fern pin he carried with him to show his pride for the New Zealand All Blacks rugby team.
I had an Italian couple that for their drinks had half a cup of coffee and a hot cocoa with whip cream. I told them how much I miss Italian cappuccinos. They shared my woes, and said they are forced to drink Starbucks because that is the only coffee around, but mainly drink hot cocoas with whip cream in America because it is better than drinking bad coffee.
Japanese, Indians, Israelis, Germans, Thais, Brazilians the list goes on and on. Who knew I would get to visit with the world and see my country through their eyes while working in Wyoming.
The Elite Piggers
August 2, 2011 § 2 Comments
Pig wrestling. I had never really heard of it, but once I discovered it involved lots of slippery mud and large, smelly pigs I never thought neat freak Dom would do it.
I was wrong.
He told me a few weeks ago that he, two guys from his work, and Georgi were going to wrestle a pig together at the Teton County Fair on July 28. Their team would be called the Grand Teton Lodge Elite Piggers.
“Whatever!” I said.
Then he showed me his bright pink ticket that said, “2011 Pig Wrestling Contestant.” I finally believed him.
Last Thursday he handed in his pink ticket at the entrance and passed through the rodeo gates to the stands filling up with pig wrestling fans. His team and us cheerleaders found spots on the bleachers where we could watch the ring clearly to learn from the first contenders.
First the Pee-wee wrestlers were up. Little kids dressed up in cute costumes such as Harry Potter characters, Disney princesses, and pigs with wings tried to grab the squealing pig and stuff it in a small barrel. While the crowds stood and cheered when one of the teenage teams finally got the first pig in the barrel of the night, the boys figured out their plan of pig attack.
One guy would grab the pig and hug it tight, while the others got the legs, and then they would carry it over to the barrel and dump it tail first in.
And Dom would be the one to grab it.
Finally the kid fun was over, and the men’s division pig wrestling began. One of the first teams, full of skinny little guys, grabbed the pig and dunked him in the barrel in about 20 seconds, well before the one minute time limit. Our guys were a bit freaked out. But what intimidated them even more was the team that would go before them. They all wore pinstripe overalls, and their mucsles were so big it looked like they might pop if someone poked them. Everyone in the stands turned to look at them when they walked by and said, “Wooow!!”.
The inflatable guys began and just started running around the muddy ring, and couldn’t even grab hold of the pig. They kept slipping and touching the pig and it kept running circles around them. When the buzzer rang they hadn’t even picked it up. We decided the Elite Piggers could do way better than that.
I was so nervous and antsy I felt like I was going in the ring with Dom. But I wasn’t. We kissed our boys farewell, and they marched to the ring wearing their matching wife beaters and jeans, looking like they were going to conquer the world.
They held onto the side of the ring until the buzzer rang, then Dom slowly and sneakily crept up on the pig. He pounced, and held him, but then the slippery guy got away. Then all the guys started grabbing until one got him tight. They all latched on to the feet, and headed toward the barrel, but right before he went in, he leapt out of their arms. The stadium groaned in agony together as the boys ran after the pig one more time.
This time Dom got him and the pig couldn’t sneak away. They rallied around one more time, grabbed the legs, and I screamed and jumped up and down as I saw them drop him in the barrel and lift up their hands. They did it!!
Of course it wasn’t fast enough to get an award, but they did better than the cowboy body builders and had fun doing so. That’s all we really cared about.
And at the end the fire department hosed them all down, which made Dom happy as the pig mud fell away and his radiant joy at his first successful pig wrestling remained.
America: Through an Immigrant's Eyes 