I can't remember where I left off. Where was I? Oh! I was busy because I had to go hiking with Tall Boy. Yes.
So, he comes over and somehow the dogs already know something good is going to happen. They're prancing and leaping and Edsel is whining and they're throwing streamers and Tall Boy is trying to help me get their harnesses on, and I speak in Tallulah voice: "Thank youuu, Uncle Tall Boy."
"Uncle Tall Boy," he said. "I sound like a beer."
Do you know I never really thought about how his blog name is a beer name? And I even have a tall boy story, so you'd think I would have made the association. Once in high school, my friend Donna and I were at a burn-out party, somehow. We hadn't started OUT the evening planning to go to a burn-out party, but there we were, and I remember I had on an Izod shirt and she had alligator EARRINGS on, for God's sake. Oh, we were so not fitting in amongst the black Foreigner tshirts and bongs.
"Man, am I ever messed up!" stone-cold sober Donna announced, trying to seem cool. "I just took a Tall Boy!" She totally thought that was some kind of pill, like a Black Beauty or a Blue-speckled Dexie. We had heard of those when the burn-outs spoke, and of course had no idea what they were. A tall boy. Poor Donna.
At any rate, Tall Boy the pill and the beer and I went to the Indian market near me, the one where Pal from MA was annoyed they had no tonic. We got water, and I paid with my ATM and the guy said, "Four dollar minimum."
I hate places that have a minimum for taking your ATM card. Just take my damn money, you yahoo. But I really like the guy who is ALWAYS working the counter at the Indian convenience store, and I should learn his name, because somehow we always get into philosophical talks about life or candy bars or something.
So Tall Boy grabs this bag of something called Veggie Thins, and you know how I feel about the word "veggie." Or nonword. But did I ever mention his vegetarian status? So grabbing a beef jerky wasn't going to happen.
In the car, he opens the bag and offers me one, and I am sorry to tell you they were PIZZA-FLAVORED vegetable sticks. "God, these are disgusting," I said. "I know," crunched Tall Boy. "You want another one?" "Of course."
"Aspire to inspire before you expire," said Tall Boy.
Anyway, we finally got there, but not before we somehow got into a conversation about Colonel Sanders, in which Tall Boy referred to him as "Sanders," like they go way back. We were maybe five miles from the site of the ludicrous mountain and the dogs were already hysterical. I think they remembered going there months ago. Do you think that's possible? Because they were berserk, and Edsel was barking his 3949394-decibel bark, and basically I was delighted I had come up with this whole idea.
We get out there, in the woods with the mountains and the trees and the deer, which we saw (pretty!) and it was sunny and lovely and immediately Tallulah pooped.
"Geez," I said, getting a bag.
"Do you really have to use a bag when you're out in the woods?" Tall Boy wondered. "YES!" I said. "I don't want others to deal with it. There's a trash can up here, I think."
So there we were, and did I mention the whole place is called Hanging Rock, so this whole walk is upeffinghill, and we were going up up up, and minutes were passing, and I was huffing like I was 98, and oh! No trash can?
Seriously. It's a public park. Or something. NO TRASH CAN? ANYWHERE? Tall Boy had the dogs, and I was retaining the water (love self), and now I had this awful grocery bag of poop. And minute after minute passed with NO TRASH CAN.
"Woodsy Owl would be annoyed," said Tall Boy, who is 86 feet tall and who was having no problem schlepping up that mountain in three steps. "Give a shit. Don't pollit."
Okay. I don't know why that struck me as so effing funny, but then I was retaining water and holding a poop bag and schlepping up a mountain AND giggling, and how we ever got to the this-is-good-enough place near the top is beyond me.
Oh! And one more thing and then we'll get off this hill. On the way down, a group of boys passed us, and one kid (maybe early 20s) held out his hand to pet Edsel? And Edsel SNARLED at him! You guys! Edsel!
"I'm so sorry," I said to the guy. "He's never done anything like that before."
"Maybe it's your hood," offered TB. So the guy pulled off his hood, held out his hand again, and "Rrrrr ROW ROW ROW!"
Oh my GOD! What was with Edsel? You know how simpering and lovey he is! What happened, there? Does anyone have a clue? Humiliating.
You should have seen his "Edzul bad ass" stomp when he walked away, too. Holy cats!
At any rate, once we got home, to base camp, as it were, we dropped off the dogs and ate 4949302 pounds of Thai food. They gave us this plate that had squares of leaves, maybe a cabbage leaf? And around the leaves were teensy plates of different spices, and you put those on the leaf and at it. I cannot begin to tell you how delicious that was. Perhaps it was the 949 calories a minute I had burned rappelling.
Anyway. Then last night Faithful Reader Laura came over.
Today I have my blood test at work to see my cholesterol and lipids (prediction: I am all lipids) and so forth, and my particular test is not till 10:10, which means I have to fast till then and I am already irritated. However, in five to seven days I get a full report on my health, including a rating from 1-100 on how close I am to death. (Prediction: How can anyone be alive with this diet? You are a one.)
Okay, so I will shower now. Did I mention I am hungry? And wishing I could have some of my half/caf coffee? Or maybe some nice chicken from my close pal Sanders. Okay, going now.