All righty. I am hurling my myself off into the wilderness again this weekend because it is the only place that the demons don’t get me. There is no possible way I could spend a weekend in Seattle right now without falling into a horriferous, self-pitying, sun-dazed funk.

Never mind that I almost DIED last weekend on Mt. Adams in one of the less fun trips in recent history. Why I bothered to climb Mt. Adams again, I do not know, except that I wanted to test out my fledgling ski mountaineering skills and I didn’t have anything better to do (except oh you know, clean my house, write my next novel, relax, and stop running around like a f*cking maniac). It wasn’t that fun last time and it certainly wasn’t that fun this time what with hauling all that gear up there, my “technical difficulties” with my skiis, and our ridiculously late summit hour, which gave us no room for error. Too bad we made so many errors, the biggest of which was following the one remaining party besides us on the mountain the absolute wrong direction into the woods.

Yeah well. Thanks to J’s altimeter and cool head we got out of there at 11 pm, to make it home Monday by 8 a.m., at which point I put on a miniskirt and low cut shirt and went to work because what else are you gonna do?

There was about 45 minutes worth of fun on that trip, including summiting and skiing off the summit but the rest was just plain wrong. It’s a big mountain and all that (12,000-something feet) but it isn’t even that scenic. Now my feet are completely mangled yet I’m going backpacking for four days in the Olympics because, well, see above.I guess the mountains are better than some other drugs out there.

I have a feeling I won’t settle down til fall. Is it here yet?

Xo
BB