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February 2001
March 2001 April 2001 September 2001 October 2001 November 2001 December 2001 January 2002 February 2002 March 2002 April 2002 May 2002 June 2002 July 2002 August 2002 September 2002 October 2002 November 2002 December 2002 January 2003 February 2003 March 2003 April 2003 May 2003 June 2003 July 2003 August 2003 September 2003 October 2003 November 2003 December 2003 January 2004 February 2004 March 2004 April 2004 May 2004 June 2004 July 2004 August 2004 September 2004 October 2004 November 2004 December 2004 January 2005 February 2005 March 2005 April 2005 June 2005 July 2005 August 2005 September 2005 October 2005 November 2005 December 2005 January 2006 February 2006 March 2006 April 2006 May 2006 June 2006 July 2006 August 2006 September 2006 October 2006 November 2006 December 2006 January 2007 February 2007 March 2007 April 2007 May 2007 June 2007 July 2007 August 2007 October 2007 December 2007 January 2008 Now contact:
syndicate me:
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Saturday, June 28, 2003 -
 Mary and I went backpacking Wednesday (Shelter #2) and Thursday (Shelter #3). It was Mary's first time camping, and first time backpacknig, and she did a wonderful job. We only hiked three or four miles, and even came out of our hike so much that we went to Eagle (the nearest town) Thursday afternoon to go eat Subway for lunch (we met some really disgruntled sandwhich artists, by the way). She got the feeling though, walking with thirty pounds, everything you need, on your back, and promised to come back with me for a longer trip. Having Mary hike with me made the trip romantic, but not in the dinner-and-a-movie sort of way. It was romantic in the I-want-to-share-what-I-value-with-you sort of way.
I love escaping back to the Kettle Moraine. It's so welcoming and friendly and home there. I always go back, to those same three shelters, but always with my dad. This was the first time that he wasn't there with me, and it was a little unnerving. Not at all a major thing, but it surprised me how things still existed without him there. I did all the things that we always do, set up the tent, cooked, hung the food in a tree so the raccoons don't get it.. I've done all that before, but he's always been there. And he wasn't this time. This has always been something we shared. I think that's why I value it so much. The biggest difference was the food. I poured water into freeze-dried packets. He cooked gourmet. I always remember the bacon and eggs from my first packing trip (to Shelter #2), and how wonderful the taste was. I've still got a bit to learn, I guess... ;) Packing also let me get away, back like school, where people never knew where I was, or what I was doing. Mary said it best: "Your parents are very through." They go into a lot of detail, thinking things through, but what it amounts to is that they want to know exactly what I'm doing and where I'm going. Even though it's only to make my life easier, they're still there. Finding things. It's exhaustnig! When I got back, after being "free" again for three days, I realized just how big of an adjustment it really is. I think that may be a little bit of the reason why I've been so short with people lately. Little things come out of my mouth before I realize it. They never used to. Oh well. I realize how much they hold on to me. ::chuckles:: My mom left me a voicemail asking me "why in the world don't you have your phone on??" and then proceded with "it sure would be nice to get a hold of you!" Yes, it would, but I went away. That's partly why I went away. Thankyouverymuch.
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