I went to Washington this weekend to visit my friend, Becca Adamson, and we enjoyed the sunshine at her vintage farmhouse. We laid on rubber donut-tubes down the river, stretching our bodies to let our skin receive maximum amount of sunshine. We got so much sunshine over the weekend that I got burned and re-burned multiple times.
We rode on her horses around her farm. The horses broke into a trot when we reached the large sprinklers that water the crops surrounding Becca's house. We let the horses decide the pace as we rode through the water, first at a trot then at a gallop. The sunshine lighted the water crystals and the drops shattered on our skin and clothes as the horses galloped through.
For much of Saturday we went boating on the Columbia River. We tubed all day, two people on each tube so that there were four people tubing at one time. We played tube wars, trying to kick each other's tubes and cause them to skid over the wake. When we got bored of tube wars we did acrobatic tricks. For my trick, I leaped to the other tube so that three people were on one tube, I felt like a frog jumping from moving lily pad to moving lily pad.
One of my favorite moments was Sarah Blazzard's dairy farm. The cows were lined up in the milking barn and we cautiously approached their udders, gently stroking them, their teats were warm and soft and plushy like fat fingers. Every time we touched the cows teats they kicked their leg forward as if to brush our hands aside. I think our touch tickled. We found a cow that didn't kick too much and gently pulled her teat and a small stream of milk squirted out. Becca and I took turns aiming the teat at each other's mouth and trying to catch the warm milk. We laughed, giddy from this wonderfully strange, yet disgusting moment. We laughed and laughed, wrapping the wonders of life and experience in our laughter and embraced it as much as two young girls can.
We visited the baby cows in their holds and let them suck our fingers. The roof of their mouths was hard with rubbery ridges. The baby cows sucked on our fingers as though they knew that they could draw milk if they only tried hard enough. Their saliva was sticky, milky and plentiful, it covered our entire hand. It was another disgusting and unforgettable experience that I wouldn't give up for the world.
As I was walking back to the car my foot started hurting. An hour later my foot was in severe pain. From years of experience I could tell that it was a sprained foot. I sprain my ankle so often that I keep an extra pair of crutches in the back of my car; it's ridiculous and embarrassing. It was really embarrassing to have to crawl to my bedroom that night. The Adamson family asked me how the sprain happened, and all I could say was, "I milked cows." There wasn't even a specific event to blame my injury on. I think my foot was tired of wearing flip flops all the time. Usually I wear my orthotics, but this weekend I just wore flip flops. Now I'm paying for it.
I was in serious pain that night. But Becca sat on my bed and we laughed about the absurdity of my injury, and the laughter subdued the pain. When I began to shiver violently Becca worried over me, and I said, "Don't worry about it, this happens every time I sprain my foot. It happens because all the blood is rushing to my foot, and so the rest of my body gets cold. I know it looks freaky but really, don't worry, I knew this would happen." And we laughed at the unexpectedness of it all.
I told Becca that I wanted to make a grand exit when I left for the weekend so that her family would never forget me. I figured that a sprain was the perfect way to go. And so it was that I visited Washington and had the time of my life and came home sunburned, sore, and with a sprained foot. That is what I call a good time.
