I have cabin fever after 1 day inside. One day.
I ordered a bunch of rubber tips for my poles. I am adjusting all kinds of values it seems since I’ve been hiking. Here’s what I have learned so far:
1. Hikers are athletes. Boundary lines don’t have to be involved.
2. Shoes. Jesus. Shoes. Jesus.
3. Weight. Crocs are heavy. WTF.
4. I am not a hammock person. I like tents. Love tents. Feel like a kid in a tent.
5. Way more people hike than I ever knew. Parking is limited at the cool places.
6. I’m not 16. Not even 40. 60 fucking 5.
7. Clothing is difficult to organize.
8. Either direction is up hill.
9. I must respect all Nature. ALL Nature.
10. I love being alone even more than I thought I did.
11. Cotton kills.
12. I can outsmart ticks.
I will try to remember I’m at 12 for later.
I love writing. I hated writing always because I worried about what the reader thought. I started this blog because I wanted my girls to have more of me than I will have time to give them. Jennie and Marta. Precious. I write to them sometimes here. I write to my friends here sometimes. I write to the universe here and I get some clarity of thought.
Rubber tips. I saw in my mind’s eye the stones on the side of the trail all chipped from hiking sticks and poles. I know now that it is a lack of respect to deface anything natural. Anything. I will use rubber now always. Rubber tips.
OK, I love all of those. But I originally read number 6 as “I’m fucking 5,” which I thought was hysterical.
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I was 5 when they sent me to 1st grade. I think I was breaking too many things in the house. Haven’t changed much.
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