teetering at the edge of the grid
I went down to Vermont to visit my friends C and C this weekend (if they were a music factory, I bet there would be some good vibrations... yuk yuk).
They live in a little house that was originally built off the grid. It has propane lights/stove, and all the fixin's to stay up when the world ends. It's since been brought into the 21st century, with DSL, supercable, drywall, plumbing, and all that good stuff, but you can still lie on their couch and watch the clouds dust over the mountains in the back yard.
I guess it's not technically "their" house... they're housesitting for a few months for some crazy lady, but it's a damn nice place while it lasts. Maybe the crazy lady will decide to stay in crazyland for a little longer and they'll get to keep the house. To get to it, you have to drive on this sketchy mofo dirt road for about 6 miles. Some of the ruts in it (due to the recent warm weather) were so deep that it was kind of touch-and-go with the car getting stuck. My all-wheel-drive Subaru.
Freakin' sweet.
I spent Saturday snowshoeing around the ascents off Notch Rd in Vermont. I was following some crampon marks up to, I guess, the start of an ice climbing route. Up was going fine for about 20 minutes or so, until I realized that, unlike the people who made the tracks I was following, I am not an ice climber. Therefore I was going to have to go back down. Alone. Through the steep, ice-crust-on-wet-snow-covered-in-ice-pebbles, way that I got up. That was dicey at best. I kind of did an ass-first bear crawl down until I passed the big boulders, then free fell until I came crashing out on to the road. Interesting time. If I hadn't been alone, it would have been the perfect little chute to go completely kamikaze down, but when I hike alone I'm mega conservative. Unfortunately, as I am an idiot, I left the battery charger to my little camera in San Diego, so it crapped out after I took one really lame picture of one of my boots. God, I love those boots. They're trail-slut red. They go brilliantly with my 1986-green jacket. I am so pimped out, I can't even look directly at myself. It's like Medusa, but instead of turning people to stone, I turn them to chrome.
Anyway, last night I had extremely violent, scary dreams. I don't normally dream, and when I do, I usually forget them either by the time I wake up or soon after, but this one was different. I was horrified to think that I could have thoughts beyond dealing out the occasional well-merited ass-kicking, but then I realized the reason I was having these terrible thoughts was that the crazy lady's cat was chewing on my face. Just one more bit of proof of my ongoing theory that cats are actually the devil.
Well, I guess I should get some sleep. And by "get some sleep," I mean "read this until I fall asleep."
They live in a little house that was originally built off the grid. It has propane lights/stove, and all the fixin's to stay up when the world ends. It's since been brought into the 21st century, with DSL, supercable, drywall, plumbing, and all that good stuff, but you can still lie on their couch and watch the clouds dust over the mountains in the back yard.
I guess it's not technically "their" house... they're housesitting for a few months for some crazy lady, but it's a damn nice place while it lasts. Maybe the crazy lady will decide to stay in crazyland for a little longer and they'll get to keep the house. To get to it, you have to drive on this sketchy mofo dirt road for about 6 miles. Some of the ruts in it (due to the recent warm weather) were so deep that it was kind of touch-and-go with the car getting stuck. My all-wheel-drive Subaru.
Freakin' sweet.
I spent Saturday snowshoeing around the ascents off Notch Rd in Vermont. I was following some crampon marks up to, I guess, the start of an ice climbing route. Up was going fine for about 20 minutes or so, until I realized that, unlike the people who made the tracks I was following, I am not an ice climber. Therefore I was going to have to go back down. Alone. Through the steep, ice-crust-on-wet-snow-covered-in-ice-pebbles, way that I got up. That was dicey at best. I kind of did an ass-first bear crawl down until I passed the big boulders, then free fell until I came crashing out on to the road. Interesting time. If I hadn't been alone, it would have been the perfect little chute to go completely kamikaze down, but when I hike alone I'm mega conservative. Unfortunately, as I am an idiot, I left the battery charger to my little camera in San Diego, so it crapped out after I took one really lame picture of one of my boots. God, I love those boots. They're trail-slut red. They go brilliantly with my 1986-green jacket. I am so pimped out, I can't even look directly at myself. It's like Medusa, but instead of turning people to stone, I turn them to chrome.
Anyway, last night I had extremely violent, scary dreams. I don't normally dream, and when I do, I usually forget them either by the time I wake up or soon after, but this one was different. I was horrified to think that I could have thoughts beyond dealing out the occasional well-merited ass-kicking, but then I realized the reason I was having these terrible thoughts was that the crazy lady's cat was chewing on my face. Just one more bit of proof of my ongoing theory that cats are actually the devil.
Well, I guess I should get some sleep. And by "get some sleep," I mean "read this until I fall asleep."
posted by M at 8:20 PM
2 Comments:
I don't think I've heard of the phrase "trail-slut" until today. M, may I say that your blog is educational as well as entertaining.
Everybody dance now!
I must see these boots.
That's a pretty controversial history of Temujin you got there. Definitely not just-before-bed-reading if you ask me.
-Suley
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