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Moose, monks and mountain biking

This weekend I saw a moose.  No, that’s actually not correct.  This weekend, I saw three mooses, meece, moosen, moose…a Momma Moose and her two baby Moosen.

Momma Moose was perhaps 20 feet off the road the first time I saw her–I’ve never seen a Moose before and I actually thought it was a deer when we first drove past.  But logic quickly took over and told me deer are not dark blackish-brown.  Must have been a mule.  Wait.  A Mule?  Like, a donkey?  No, it wasn’t a mule.  Suddenly, it dawned on me that this was my first moose siting.  I actually squealed!

“MOOSEN!  It’s a MOOSEN!”  (If you have ever heard the Brian Regan skit about school and “moosen” you’ll understand where this came from.)

Momma Moose was very careful to keep her two babies hidden from view–they were small and light brown and quite cute.  Like an idiot, I made Handsome slow down so I could take a few pictures.  Clearly, this is not the best idea whilst there is a Momma Moose with a couple of baby Moosen around.  I don’t have any crazy Moose-attack stories, thank heavens, but I’m still excited about my Moose siting.

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I also went to a Monastery over the weekend–I didn’t even know there was a monastery in Utah.

Tucked away in northern Utah, 20 minutes off of state route 167 in Huntsville these monks work and pray and chant and make creamed honey and delicious jam.  I’m sure they do more than that–but in my short visit that was all I experienced.  I took quite  a few pictures here–but I somehow feel funny posting them all over the internet.

I browsed the bookstore and picked up some of their famous honey, listened to their chanting in the church, and was generally impressed by their very dedicated way of life.

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I went mountain biking for the first time on Saturday and I have the palm-sized bruise on my calf to prove it.  This was the result of my flying head-over-handle bars and simultaneously catching my left calf on something pokey–like a spoke or a chain do-hickey or something.

By Sunday afternoon I was still sore and the bruise was blossoming into something quite nasty-looking, I will refrain from posting pictures because they even creep me out.  Today my purpley-black bruise is considerably lightened and not nearly so painful due to some home-remedy action.  Vinegar, the wonder-drug.  Yesterday afternoon I soaked a small washcloth in white distilled vinegar and held it in place on my calf with a few layers of plastic wrap.  It smelled badly, but after a few hours my bruise looked much much better.  Vinegar…who knew?

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