Scavenger Hunt

My honey and I picked up a brochure listing the outdoor sculptures in Golden, CO. The brochure made it really easy by showing the locations on a map. They were located around the downtown area and in easy walking distance. As we visited each one we marked ti off on the map and at each one told each other something we appreciated about the other person connected to the sculpture.

The hardest one to relate something romantic to was the swimming fish. I tried too hard to think of something romantic and this is all I came up with. “From among so many thank you for choosing me.”

My honey has a sense of humor. “I’m glad you’re a great cook.”

Every day provides opportunities to express love, some of these days remind us that love can be taken for granted if we don’t put in effort. While we enjoyed this as a romantic activity, scavenger hunts are great for families and groups too. I saw one team playing with a list and using a camera phone to prove they’d been to each spot.

In your area, check with the chamber or commerce for landmark maps and information. Or pick up brochures listing a sampling of things to do and places to go. These are great for a location scavenger hunt or do a little research on the internet and create your own list of things you’d like to see/experience.

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Personal Pinups

A date doesn't require a destination and any activity is appropriate as long as we are being attentive to each other. 

I'm a fan of the 1940s-style pinups. These pictures depicted healthy women with pink cheeks and glowing eyes who were comfortable with fun and sensuality. They became an inspiration or motivation for military men to make it through the war and return home.

The idea of posing for such a photo excited me and inspired my honey and I to choose clothing from what I already own. My honey found a camisole I've kept for years. A big plus to an environmentally friendly lifestyle with healthy eating and regular exercise means I can still wear clothes I wore twenty years ago.

My honey chose a location and adjusted the settings on our digital camera. Posing in front of the camera made me feel like a model. I moved with each click of the camera frame after frame.  I love the digital camera over film because we can delete the pictures we don't like without having to print even an index print first. 

My honey isn't as picky as a photo editor and loved all the pictures. "You look beautiful." Of course he's prejudiced.

I chose my favorite in wallet size. My pinup will not grace the side of a bomber or hang on the walls of many garages, but it reflects the essence of a pinup with extras. We share dreams, ideals and a vision for the future.

I'm his girl and a sassy picture to look at when he's not with me is additional incentive to hurry home.

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Etiquette for Striking Out a Date

A friendly game of softball remains a great pastime and is environmentally friendly. We called friends for a five gal-five guy just enough to field the bases, a pitcher and a catcher for a Friday evening multiple date. We might have learned the sport in elementary school or earlier, but all of us were out of practice; most of us hadn’t played for at least five years and some as many as fifteen or twenty years.

We dug our old gloves from storage, rounded up a couple of bats (not one of has had a lucky bat or cared about weight, length or balance) and two scuffed regulation size softballs. Dare we play gals against guys? You bet.

My honey pitched for his team and when it was my turn to bat he motioned for his team to move closer. No way had he expected me to hit a homer. I admit I’d have bet against me even getting a hit. His first pitch was slow and gentle. “Strike One!”

He gave me every chance to hit an easy ball, but the timing threw me off. “Just pitch as if I were a guy.”

He held the bridge of his nose. My guess is he was considering the wisdom of striking me out. He made up his mind; this would only be the second strike anyway. He threw a fast ball; he’d never played softball only baseball. I swung and nicked it, a foul ball popped up in the air backwards and hit the backboard. The catcher missed it. I wasn’t out, just “Strike Two!”

I didn’t care about statistics, I’d at least connected bat to ball. He pitched and I hit the ball just hard enough toward left field to run and touch safe on first base. We played until we called the game because of darkness. The guys won bragging rights. Like any other game there was some good game butt slapping and a stolen kiss or two. We love old-fashioned dating because we had fun without damaging our budget or the environment.

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Silent Bonding or Just a Good Massage

Just because a person is trying to be environmentally friendly and striving to leave only footprints doesn’t mean she must sacrifice all pampering for the sake of the environment. I love the meeting of nature and massage for an eco-friendly date.

One Saturday afternoon, in the dappled shade of an oak beside a pond, my honey and I settled on mats with large cotton towels and blankets for comfort. The warmth made me sleepy. My eyes closed, I didn’t want to miss a moment of the massage though. If I fell asleep I would miss out on the experience. My honey squeezed my hand in silent communication.

While the two massage therapists worked the stress from our muscles, I enjoyed the feel of warm oil and the gentle flow of hands over skin to melt away the stress. The special oil had mint in it and when it was rubbed into my scalp, all my cares disappeared. I breathed easier and inhaled the tangy scent blending with the freshness of the air.

We didn’t speak to keep the moment pure. In touch with our inner feelings and the opportunity to become with nature, just human animals listening to the chirping of the crickets, a lazy sound dependent on air temperature. The buzz of other insects, the plop-swish made by frogs moving into the pond and the tiny dollop-dimple sound of the water skating bugs in preparation for the first glide across the pond.

This was a moment of idyllic quiet before we return to our daily lives. I was surprised that four people could be so silent as to not mar nature by sound. Each person lost in private thoughts and still joined in a special oneness that cannot be duplicated, a unique moment becoming part of the continuum.

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Treasure to be Found in a Book Barn

Of course I wanted to spend a Saturday morning wandering through the stalls of a barn. Especially when the proprietor admitted he didn’t have a clue where to find certain books. I was here by invitation because my date knew I treasured all books. The hard to find and long out of print books are my favorite.

Somewhere in this would-be attic was a treasure waiting to be discovered. The problem was reading every title. I took the ladder to the hayloft and looked down at the stalls. From that height I couldn’t determine which stalls held which subjects.

My date sat in a rocking chair with an oversize book of photographs on his lap and one of those old fashioned viewers he could use to look at special postcards giving the illusion of three-dimensions. He looked up at me and grinned. I waved and blew him a kiss.

From somewhere one golden strand of hay fluttered into my hair and pricked me when I reached up to remove it. Back on the ground floor, I tripped on one of the loose planks and landed on my seat in front of a bookcase. Right there I saw a large brown cover with gold illuminated letters on the cover. The book was a complete works of Shakespeare and had been printed in the first decade of the twentieth century.

This was the treasure I couldn’t bear to put back on the shelf. While I didn’t have competition from other customers for this book, I decided to pay right away. The owner directed me to the back yard where his daughter had a lemonade stand. I bought two cups before joining my date. He’d brought me to the right place and the wrong place. I wanted to bring home every book. I praised the owner for rescuing so many books from becoming trash. I didn’t want to leave.

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Romance Goes Berry Pickin'

Sunlight made the dew on the maple leaves glisten when I parked in the shade. The parking lot at the organic pick-your-own farm was filled with fossil fuel gorging SUVs. The strawberries and raspberries were a big draw for parents from the city.

The owner met us at the back door of the barn turned fruit and vegetable stand. She handed us each a cardboard box. "Take as many cartons as you want to fill."

The cardboard box had a famous soup label on it and the cartons were made of pressed paperboard. So far, so good.

She pointed. "you can pick in the farthest three rows for raspberries and we're picking in the strawberry field to the right."

We thanked her and started to walk to the field.

"Wait."

We turned around.

"If you'd like, hop on the haywagon and we'll take you to the field."

The hayrides seemed popular with the kids; all I could think was itchy hay sticking in my hair and to my clothes. Too many memories from childhood. Fortunately my date was up for a walk too and I could avoid the tractor fumes.

While we picked to fill the cartons, we sampled a few berries direct from the vines. Nothing like going right to the source and pesticide free too. Yum! We picked enough berries for me to freeze several containers for winter.

Back at the farm stand, the cashier rang up our purchases. This date cost as much as a vegetarian dinner for two and a movie. We gained scratches from the thorns in the raspberry bushes. I sunburned my nose because the brim of my hat wasn't wide enough. We witnessed city children learning where food comes from and the work involved. Together we learned we share similar values. I have a winter's worth of fresh frozen organic strawberries - can't put a dollar amount on that kind of value. Oh wait, they could, $48.34.

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Light or Dark Coffee

I need to always be prepared by carrying a reusable mug in my briefcase. An unexpected invitation to go for a cup of coffee meant I entered a whole new world of the ubiquitous coffee shop. Where have I been the past fifteen years that I didn’t even know how to order a cup of coffee?

The barista approached. “What can I get you?”

I had been looking at the menu board and experienced a moment of confusion. “All I really want is a plain cup of coffee.

“Light or dark?” The man took pity on the poor ignorant granola head who hadn’t yet caught up with modern culture.

“Dark!”

“Should I leave room for milk or cream?”

Oh no. I really am odd. “No thanks, just hot, dark and strong.” I was talking about the coffee, really not men. OK, so I like my men the same way. I felt guilty holding the disposable cup, like my environmental friends would set the recycle patrol on me. At least the cup was made of recycled pre-consumer paper.

In theory, I knew about coffee shop culture, philosophers and intelligentsia in Europe throughout the twentieth century met in coffee shops and shared thoughts. The modern coffee shop seems to be taken over by writers using laptops sitting at tables alone. I had hoped for sharing ideas etch and my coffee companion proved to be interesting.

He brought up themes to discuss and the conversation ranged from discussion of careers to business, books and then the dangerous territory of politics. In terms of compatibility I’m not sure if a dark straight-up coffee drinker has much in common with an iced mocha latté with extra whipped cream.

The nice thing about opposites is combining strengths. The one topic we didn’t discuss was the environment. The coffee shop embraced recycling and provided an aura of being good for the environment and supports fair trade practices. Next time I’ll make the experience even better by taking my own cup.

One. Two. Want to Paddle my Canoe?

Water reflected back images of the sky and two people gliding across the surface in a wooden canoe. Early morning silence broken only by loons diving, frogs attempting to mate in the swamp and my date. "Look, there's a moose with a calf wading along the edge."

This was an activity I loved. My parents had taken me canoeing often when I was little. I love the smooth motion, the silent speed and being able to look down into the clear water and feel like I'm flying above a whole different world.

My honey and I could combine adventure with exercise and a picnic. The food had been my idea and I packed two different salads, a loaf of bread and my favorite vegan chocolate tofu cake topped with cherries.

Halfway around the lake, he gestured toward a sand bar. We paddled to it and pulled the canoe out of the water. My quilt was perfect for spreading out the meal. I'm glad I brought a pillow too because I fell asleep from the combination of fresh air, exercise and being sated.

We woke in time to paddle the rest of the way around the lake before dark and enjoy the pinks, reds and purples of the sunset. If not for sharing the late afternoon lake with water skiers, people fishing and the huge party barges filled with revelers, we might have felt like explorers on an expedition of discovery.

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Off the Hook

An outdoor guy is not necessarily compatible with an environmentally friendly woman. I said yes to the date before I knew I’d be going ice fishing. My first thought was ‘No! No!’ My second thought was, ‘I’ll never be warm again.’ I refused to get a fishing license because I didn't plan to do more than watch.

My date told me to wear layers because by lunchtime it would be pretty warm. He picked me up before daylight on a Sunday morning with a four-wheel-drive pickup towing a snowmobile trailer. We drove forty miles to the lake where he had his fishing shack and parked on the ice. He had to reassure me several times that it was safe.

I sat behind him on the snowmobile to reach the wood building the size of a garden shed with a metal chimney sticking out of the roof. He made four more trips for gear and food before he started a fire in the wood stove. He achieved very little heat in relation to the smoke billowing from the pipe. I refused to stay inside a building that felt more like a meat locker and escaped outdoors where the temperature in the high-teens was a heatwave.

I watched him bait the hooks with smelt. Who knew smaller fish would entice bigger fish - cannibals. This date was a mistake, but he was proud to be introducing me to a great outdoor sport of watching for flags to pop up indicating a fish was on the hook. Nothing all morning. He jumped on the sled to drive a few hundred yard to visit someone at another shack. I was ready to go home and then I learned we'd be there until dark. I was imprisoned on a block of ice hoping to see a flag waving in the air to indicate a pending execution. I don't even eat fish.

Late afternoon a flag waved. He grabbed the line, reeled it in and saw the fish inside the hole. "It's a big one." The fish flicked its tail just right, dislodged the hook and dove deep beneath the ice. My date yelled and thrust his arm deep into the freezing water to try to catch it with his hand. Home please. I followed the fish's lead; off the hook and swimming away.

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Board Games by Candlelight

We decided to stay in on Sunday night, play a board game and flirt by candlelight (yeah, energy savings and romance). The problem might be the game; I hardly ever follow the rules as written. While this is no surprise to people who know me, strangers wonder how I play games. At the consignment store, I bought a combination checkers, chess and backgammon game for a quarter. Surprise all the pieces were still intact as was the pristine rule book.

My problem with playing games with new people is that I am an overly competitive person who lives by a mantra ‘what good is playing if not to win’. I know better than scare off my honey by playing by the rules as written. I’d end up clobbering him in retaliation for taking one of my game pieces.

What to do? Rewrite the rules of course. In choosing to live my life in as sustainable way as possible, I know about cooperation. So, we started with backgammon; the dice are the luck of the draw and random chance is acceptable. Placement of the pieces according to the rules is fair and equitable. The possibility of hindering the opponent from moving by either blocking the section or removing pieces occupying a space all alone wouldn’t work for me. This mean singles could be treated with disrespect and shoved aside just for being single.

Perhaps as a game strategy the rule would make the game for interesting and increase competition. As an ethic, the rule allows for profiling and discrimination. We threw out the rule along with the rule of no sharing spaces between the two colors. I thought it discouraged companionship and the new rule was sharing if fine as long as total capacity wasn’t exceeded.

We didn’t ruin the game because we nipped my competitive streak before it could turn into a battle. I lost and I cheered his win because it was almost like I had a share in his victory. Since spending time together, sharing and bonding were the goals, we didn’t get bored with the new rules. And we discovered we work together well.

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