Cold, spitting rain. Forty degrees. Wind that knocks fist-sized pinecones on me as I drive up the hill. It reminded me that I haven’t seen rain since my first days in Baja.
Despite the weather, today was the best I’ve felt in a good two weeks. I went to the doctor a few days ago and learned that I have an upper-respiratory infection, so now I’m on a delicious cocktail of antibiotics to shoo that puppy aside. I seem to be seeing a lot of doctors, lately… leg wounds, head wounds, repetitive stress wounds, chest wounds… I wish my body would just chill out for five seconds.
I always know when I’m starting to feel better, because I start muttering to myself more often. I make up word games and giggle at jokes only I understand. I repeatedly say words like sashay. I dance up the stairs. I grab my belt and hold spontaneous ho-downs. I make fun of the avacadoes at the grocer.
Really, nothing else significant to report. And I’m okay with that, for once. We’ve pushed our summit attempt for Hood out to next weekend, so hopefully the weather will clear up by then. I have my new camera and it’s lovely.
Jennifer is going to start writing more for the rest of us. I am excited. We should make a drinking game out of it. It will go like this:
1. Every time she cries, you take a shot.
2. Every time she hyperventilates, you finish your drink.
Remember Peter? Of course ya’ll remember Peter. Well, Peter is getting married in May. His fianceé is fluent in l33t, and that is enough to sell me on the deal. Even though they are both hardcore libertarians, they still argue all the time. This is for the best. I couldn’t imagine Peter without battleships.
Have a lovely, er, Thursday.