Life ever seem like a bout of hiccups? Well, I'm trying to drink from the other side of the glass. I'll let you know how it goes.

Grandpa's birthday was Christmas. First one without him.

Might have to raise of can of Old Milwaukee just for him. I used to say, "Grandpa, that stuff is made to put your worms in while fishing. Please, please try some of my real beer." Then at that very moment, I'd get this grin - not a smile, a grin - and a warm, spirit-filled look from his hazel eyes.

I suppose I should bring the little Buck knife he gave me to the Christmas gift opening. Grandpa won't be there in person to rummage in his pocket for his. The man insisted on slicing envelopes and cutting Scotch tape. Like bringing a stick to a toothpick party.

So about those hiccups...time to move on and try new stuff, make even more of every opportunity!

The closest I usually come to tanning in the winter is sitting next to a fireplace. If Dad is making the fire, it can result in second degree blisters. My fireplace - well, I stopped using it last year. The cracks give me thoughts of dialing 911 while going to get the fire engine to return to my own home.

So, in search of warmth - although, I have been keeping the house a balmy 64 degrees now with the new furnace - I tried a tanning bed.

Apparently I am a prehistoric cavegal because even though I said this was all new to me, there I stood staring at it thinking okay do I grab the top and pull it closer? Why is it not lighting? Shouldn't the bulbs be on? Press the green button a few times. Green means GO right? After about seven minutes, it turned on. Mmmmm - nice. Then three minutes later - tada! You're done. Come on - toast doesn't even brown that quickly.

Back to the petite, bronzed gal at the front counter. Oh yes, quite a few mouse clicks later and I was trying it again. Laying there giggling as fleeting thoughts zinged through my head...for the number of times I laughed at people telling me about how wonderful tanning is. I'm now justifying this as Vitamin D production.

Alas, the larger picture - I'm taking it as a sign that I was assigned to the Jamaica Room. Tonight, I added a few more pieces of change to the jar. Everyone needs a dream or two or three or...

So very many people have expressed to me to write a book. I have not, but I was just re-energized to start the Blog again. Today, a moment back in history... I figured there are quite a few adventures that I've experienced, which looking back may be quite funny. See - I never think of them as much. But when I share with others, they say LYN - more, tell us more! Strange. Okay - there are perverse people who like my abnormalities....and so with that let's re-enact part of the infamous Reno Rally:

None of the medical teams showed up for the rally except the chief of emergency services. When I say rally - that's the kind with competition racing cars that go flat out racing on closed sections of roadways. So, yes a medical team is sort of important.

Well, I didn't travel all the way to gloriously sunny, and FREAKINGLY FRIGID Reno for nothing! I said that’s it, we’re going to figure this out one way or another.

The Yooper unearthed.

So, I scanned the crowd and found two more people – one a paramedic and another a trauma nurse. Cha-Ching! POOF! We looked at the schedule, we divied out the equipment and I added what I brought in the Samsonite. Ta-Da! We can do this. One in a truck, one in a bunny slipper Volkswagon and me in a rental Trailblazer. When I looked at the available rentals, I chose the Trailblazer figuring the name was apropos for the way north, at the end of the road – literally, rally called Reno. Little did I know.

So we find our spot in the open range and I hop up into the middle of the 180, but discover that driving over sage brush leaves a very lasting aroma. Then the steer arrive. Yes, by golly, they have surrounded us. I ask on the radio what to do? Drive through them. Okay – well, I can’t move and so the folks pile into a little Audi and try this maneuver. Now I come from the place where Audis are few and far between and not really something you would move steer with! This technique hardly works. We are apparently smack dab in the middle of their road to water – literally. Yes, this road we want to race on is their routinely used "path" to the watering hole.

We need additional support, and so while we await the calvary, my rally partner and I scour the high desert for a potty point. We find a gully and while one remains as scout, we discover the technique of shelfing and creating a little pooling spot in the sand. Further explanation can only be done in person; however, if I may say, this is definitely NOT the northern woods style.

More people arrive and get this – they literally take after the steer on foot and drive them over the hills to the water a different way. Our radio network now calls us Steer Corner. Lovely. A callsign that many years later, no one has forgotten.

The rally cars start and what arrives? A donkey. Yes, a donkey.

It stands at the top of the hill staring at us. When a rally car comes, it shifts its gaze to the car and watches every moment. It’s head literally moves with the car as the rally car negotiates the corner and leave the area. Right now I was thinking I’d been overcome by sage fumes. Later I find out that donkeys protect steer.

Come on?! Seriously?! One of those thousand pound beasts needs a donkey?

The rally happened. Pretty much all that mattered.

Yet another life experience. Get out there. Do it! Don't wait. There's only one occasion to smell the sage brush and look down the beady eyes of a snot dripping steer.