Sunday, October 27, 2013
The monkey and I have been hiking every chance we get lately. Autumn is upon us, and winter is coming (Hello, George Martin...), so we are trying to get in as many hikes as possible. I think we can both tell you every inch of our favorite well-worn trails. Exactly how many turns before you hit the first reservoir. Where someone inexplicably put a spigot into a dying pine tree. The most likely place to see a fish. The peninsula that you have to tiptoe across a log to get to. The boulders that the monkeys love to scramble up, even as I cringe.
And then there is this new sign. Trail closed.
Hmmmm. I know it is probably closed because of all of the rains. There are probably boulders poised to roll down with the slightest breeze, so I am happy to obey the sign.
It's actually been stuck in my mind lately, though. Trail closed. Sometimes one way is closed. The way that you are accustomed to is suddenly shut off one day. It doesn't mean that you sit down by the sign or turn back around. It just means you find a new trail. That's all.
Whore. This word has so much weight, but only if we allow it. A bit of a backstory here. Actually two backstories. The first one involv...