The story of a backpack

Last week, Amber and I went hiking in the Greenbelt. It was sunny, warm and picturesque. Amber ran around off-leash, swam, and went exploring up some steep, steep hill.  I walked on the pretty, quiet trails. I often find the Greenbelt magical, and I wished I had my camera.

So I went straight to Whole Earth Provisions, sweaty and sniffling, to buy a new backpack so I could carry my camera. I have a collection of crappy packs that I hate because they are really uncomfortable. So I upgraded to a North Face that was on sale.

Saturday, I went hiking again armed with a backpack, camera, food, and water. Jacob and Marley came along with us. It was beautiful out, the dogs exhausted themselves, I took lots of pictures, and Jacob and I had a good time catching up.

I've been delightfully reveling in the crazy warm weather I've had with my time off, and figured I should explore some of Texas while I am at it. I've been here 4 years and haven't ventured very far from Austin. So I picked Mustang Island State Park, a beach outside Corpus Christi where camping is allowed.

My favorite place to be is looking at the ocean, feet curled into the sand, with salty air blowing my hair. The ocean settles and calms me.

Dan decided to call in sick and come with me. So Monday morning, we loaded our dogs and our gear into Dan's ridiculously fast sports car with the fin I am constantly compelled to make fun of, and headed south.

The drive was full of sing-along cheesy 80s pop songs, a stop for food in a town whose population matched my tiny, tiny high school, and uninteresting landscape.

We drove up the deserted beach, an act that will get you thrown in jail never to be seen again down the shore (ie. the beaches in NJ). Amber jumped out of the car and ran up and down the beach. She loved it and rolled around in sand like she was thrilled to be home.

The beach was beautiful. We set up camp, took a long walk and watched my dog fail repeatedly to catch birds. I piled clothes on as the sun went down and the wind picked up, concerned that the weather report lied and it was going to drop significantly below the 54 degrees it promised. We lit a fire that I stood on top of to warm my butt, and cracked open the whiskey.

The fire grew, the wind disappeared, I got to take off my hat and gloves. We bullshitted by the fire, watched the rising moon and enjoyed our cocktails. Dan switched to vodka. We met other campers, who came to hang with us for a while. Some shots were consumed. Dan got very, very drunk.

What does the backpack have to do with this story, you wonder. It was the lucky receptacle of Dan's puke. He threw up in the tent in my backpack. Apparently, he's still learning to hold his liquor.

Morning came. My plots to kill Dan dissolved with the rising sun, apologies, and dumbfoundedness about the Events That Lead Up to and Included Puking.

I napped on the beach and got a farmer's tan from my t-shirt. It was gorgeous out again. I laughed hard many times at Dan. He cleaned out my backpack enough so that I could stand to go near it. Nothing like a friend's pain and humiliation to make an unpleasant experience fucking hilarious.

We got greasy food for lunch, and headed back to Austin. Both a little tired. Me from lack of sleep and Dan from his raging hangover.

My backpack is hanging outside on my deck, drying from its numerous washings. Prognosis for smell-free recovery is not looking good. Which means that Dan and I have matching backpacks when he gets me a new one and I give him the Sour one.

Overdue

So my birthday was last weekend. Friends came to my house to celebrate with me. We drank beer, ate food, chatted. You know, the usual.

My Mom says that when she buys booze for her parties, she buys cases of wine instead of cases of beer. I guess that starts in the 28 range since I got several bottles of wine as gifts.

Nothing wild or crazy happened, but I had fun. And for the first time, I got more than enough alcohol to cover all my guests and then some. And since people brought 6-packs or wine with them, I am still using the crisper drawer as a beer holder. I like having a fridge stocked full of brown and green bottles.

Look at some pictures. Decker took most of them, hence the artsy angles and low lights.

Uncheduled

There is something to be said for afternoon walks, and for not needing to be anywhere except yoga. It makes the sun brighter, and the cold air pleasantly crisper.

I wonder who the other people on a mid-afternoon walk are. Are they stay at home parents, students, or retired? Or are they like me, enjoying a short vacation from real life.

I've got two more weeks of lazy walks, mid-afternoon movies and yoga, unexpected naps, cups of tea, and novels.

I thought briefly about heading somewhere far and urban with friends and adventure, but this feels too right. Like everyday is calming me.

I'm Out

So tomorrow is my last day at work!

I had planned on writing some big post about it, but there isn't much to say. It was harder to resign than I expected, though I've been much happier about my decision since then. And I'm already very excited about future endevours.

So I get to pack up the last of my belongings and hand in my keys tomorrow. I'd like to say it will be sad, but I'm already thinking of the 4:30 yoga class I'm planning on going to once I send my "farewell" mail.

must drink water

It was dark and cold when my Dad and I left my house in New Jersey Wednesday morning. The airport sucked; it was crowded with long lines to check in, then drop off bags, then get through security. My orange juice cost $5.

I landed in Austin around lunch time. My bags took no time to come through baggage claim. I stripped my wool coat and sweater off as I went outside to meet Susanne because it was sunny and warm. In the 70s!

I sat outside at Taco Xpress in a t-shirt and flip flops on Dec 29th waiting for my delicious $5 lunch. I was giddy with excitement and TMed people to brag about the awesome weather.

It set me up for a great weekend with friends. Jen, a college roommate, and her finance Stan came to visit Susanne, Seth, and I for New Year's. They have been here since Thursday, and I've spent almost all my waking hours with the four of them.

They arrived on Thursday at 11 am, where Susanne met them at the airport with Shiners and breakfast tacos. Since then, I've watched three football games, and commenced drinking at noon everyday except New Year's Day, where I briefly tested a beer around 3 pm and decided I wasn't ready. I've taken several disco or recovery naps, depending on liquor consumption.

We've wandered around campus, went to 2 different stores so Jen and Stan could get cowboy boots, watched Seth and Susanne's new puppy pee bitty puddles on the carpet, and ate obscene amounts of BBQ.

On New Year's, I consumed a good amount of gin, yelled loudly in people's ears, and danced stupidly to Bon Jovi with Jen and Susanne at a bar where no one else was dancing.

New Year's Day included some early morning vomiting, a pounding headache, a messy lesson about how egg and potato frittata don't mix with my new frying pan (not of the non-stick variety), greasy food, a short stint at a bar to watch the UT game and then an extra large nap. My brain felt like it was leaking out of the back of head, as evidenced by the many stupid things that came out of my mouth, such as "What's the German word for Lager? Oh wait, its lager." I skipped a trip to Broken Spoke for line dancing because I was still feeling slow and crappy at 9 pm.

Now that I am barely recovered from the BBQ induced meat haze, I am home in PJs where it is humid in my house in January.

I am sad that Jen and Stan head back to Maine tomorrow. On the upside, at least now I have a half decent chance of re-hydrating before my birthday since I'll have some time to incorporate water back into my diet.