Happy September internet pals!
Y’all ready to get yer PSL on!? Oh wait. Apparently those are bad for you now, nrrmind.
So. Last weekend was the big’n. Labor day. The holiday that marks the last day where one can acceptably wear white on one’s bottom half, or at least that’s MY interpretation. It’s a bit bourgeois, but hey. Thems the rules.
Bry and I planned on a camping trip in the eastern regions of our fair state, but a surprise interview popped up for yours truly on a SATURDAY (more on that later). Sunday morning we headed out early into iffy weather. I think Bryan could sense my hesitancy as he let me sing along to the ENTIRE Moulin Rouge, Legally Blonde and Sister Act 2 soundtracks on the way there.
We decided to try a brand-new campground in Cottonwood Canyon and it was just that – NEW. Beautifully situated in (you guessed it) Cottonwood Canyon, the area is gorgeous. The campground? A bit, er….desolate. No grass, no trees no campfires and plenty of wind. We immediately took off on a trail run because we are hard-core like that.
I was wearin’ my trusty, hideous REI hiking pants which have tear-away bottoms so they can become shorts – which meant that I was the foxiest lady on the trails.
After our run, Bryan was dead-set on setting sail in our two-man tube RR for a bit of floating. After our last
disaster floating adventure, I was a little skittish about jumping right back in. However, the river looked calm, shallow and yes – even a bit appealing, so I obliged. Things started out honky-dory – I had my juice box (aka wine-in-a-box) and the sun was starting to come out.
About 15 minutes in, we spotted a couple of folks fly fishing in the distance. As we got closer, we both agreed that we should make portage (look at me and these official words!) around them and carry our floatie on the rocky river bed. We clumsily paddled our way over and somehow managed to make it safely ashore without slipping on the slimy river rocks. As we carried the raft around those GD fly fishers, I noticed something move quickly right next to my feet.
IT WAS A MOTHEREFFING SNAKE.
I shrieked, dropped the raft and ran up the embankment towards Bryan. Of course by my reaction, he had to think I was bitten by a cobra or scorpion or some other terrible creature. We switched sides carrying the floatie back into the water and I basically jumped in, arms and legs shaking furiously. Two or three sips of wine calmed my nerves but MY GOD. Bry assured me that he too, saw the
sn- the one who will not be mentioned – and said it was tiny. I BEG TO DIFFER.
After my brush with death I did what anyone would do. Proceeded to assume there was a snake everywhere. In the raft, the cooler, my hair – you know. Once our float was over, it took us a good 20 minutes to find a trail leading us back to the camp site, but eventually we did.
We were muddy, wet, a bit cold and super hungry upon returning to our car and my run-in with nature had really taken it’s toll. Bryan simply looked at me and said, “I think I know someone who would rather sleep in her own bed tonight.”
TEARS OF JOY, you guys. THIS is just one of the many reasons I love my husband.
He then packed up the entire shambangle while I sat licking my wounds in the passenger seat, inhaling a turkey sub and listening to The Producers with the heat blasting. We got the hell outta there as the wind realllly started to pick up and I couldn’t have been happier.
That night for dinner, we both had a serious jonesing for Mexican and decided to try out a random place we found on Google Maps, Mi Mole or something. We ordered a bunch of food, margs and sat down to guzzle liters of water. I ordered a kind of bean+rice+guac mixture which I just dipped chips into. Bry ordered seafood tacos. We later discussed that the use of “seafood” when referring to a type of taco can be a bit misleading, as seafood is a fairly broad term.
The tacos ended up being shrimp, and the toppings? There were carrots. Lots and lots of cooked, mushy carrots. Neither Bryan nor myself are the least bit opposed to this vegetable – sure, throw it in a slaw and serve it on a taco. But to cook down 1/2 a lb of the things and pile em high on a seafood taco? hmmm…
The carrots became a catalyst for a larger, deeper conversation over dinner that night. Sometimes we get so caught up in going going going – we forget to simply look at eachother as honestly as a person can and ask “How ya doin?” While Portland has been a fun adventure for us both, we are still trying to determine if it’s the city for us. If we fit in, if we WANT to fit in and if so, where that might be. It’s a little scary, but exciting too.
The next morning was pure perfection. Our planned breakfast for camping was bacon, egg and tomato sandwiches on ciabatta with pesto and oh lord were they good. After that, we did a little mini-golf and hit the sack early, what a great Labor Day weekend!
Until next time, tootle-oo!