I should wear a helmet every time I go climbing. This is objective; a fact. I read enough tragic headlines and accident reports to know it. It’s a no-brainer (ack, sorry, I really just couldn’t help myself, sorry). Continue reading “I’m so vain (this post is definitely about me)”
I generally don’t trust people who don’t drink coffee. I trust them a only slightly more than I trust people who actively dislike dogs, which I strongly believe to be a serious character flaw. There are all kinds of reasons not to drink coffee, some more legitimate than others. Some kind of bizarre and unfortunate allergy is an easy out; on the other hand, say, avoiding caffeine because you don’t want to be dependent on it raises concerns that you probably have too much self-discipline to be interested in friendship with me, anyway. Continue reading “Morning buzz”
I am starry-eyed over the notion of buying in bulk; I can’t wait to get those peanut butter-filled pretzels home to weigh and repackage them. It’s my commitment to calorie density that led me to this startling revelation: I love Costco. I don’t want to love it; I am filled with existential dread at the thought that I’m just like everyone else, pushing my giant shopping cart (or, for a really big trip, a pallet—eek!) up and down the aisles of this monument to excess.
I hate shopping. I hate the mental gymnastics of figuring out how much I have in checking (this would be less problematic, I realize, if I were more responsible with money, but here we are). I hate trying on clothes in the harsh lighting of the tiny fitting room, which is perhaps why I’ve been wearing essentially the same three outfits for literally years (my wardrobe can be recombined in endless permutations, and by endless, I mean maybe like five). I really hate grocery shopping, because I resent that I should have to spend money on something so boring and basic, and also because I despise cooking, so it’s like salt in the wound. Shopping is the worst. Continue reading “In the land of giants”
I did the twenty-first century equivalent of tearfully smashing my piggy bank, transferring all the money we’d diligently saved since I started my Big Girl Office Job into our checking account and waiting for it to disappear. I thought of all the meals we could’ve eaten out, of the gear I hadn’t splurged on, of the airfare I’d resisted booking with $2,600. Instead of all that, we were buying a head gasket.
Last week, our trusty 2007 Subaru Forester hit 182,000 miles. The week before that, it needed $2,600 in repairs. Continue reading “Sometimes you’re the windshield…”
Hiking in the Tetons in the dark is a little different than hiking in places uninhabited by grizzly bears in the dark, namely because of grizzly bears and the fact that they live there.
The National Park Service turns 100 years old in 2016, and dirtbags nationwide are finding creative ways to commemorate the NPS Centennial. (My favorite so far is the Dirtbag Diaries’Milepost series.) I, on the other hand, lack artistic sensibilities, and am thus marking the occasion in the same way I celebrate everything else: by eating. Without further ado, then, I present the next installment in this series about things I’ve eaten, or seen eaten (in this case, almost me), in national parks. Continue reading “Find Your Snack: Grin and Bear It”
my alaskan odyssey 