Old Rag

we climbed a mountain yesterday. 3,642 feet up, 2 hours of agony. i was pretty impressed with myself. we didn't stop until we had gone 1.6 miles up. we rested at the edge of the trees and the rocks and ate some strawberries, stared at the pretty valley below. then we climbed the appropriately named "rock scramble" for 1.0 miles to the summit. it was all rocks, some of it "rock climbing". i thought my legs were going to give out. but we made it to the top. nice, flat, smooth stones, perfect for a picnic. legs crossed, eating salami and cheese in the sun. watching the hawks swoop and the world pass lazily by. finally, a nap in the sun. oh how i love sitting at the top of a mountain.

on the way down we passed some poop at the side of the road. i said, "oh nate, look they let horses on this trail". nate said, "how do you know that's horse poop? that could be a cow poop!". i said, "no, it's quite obviously horse poop" and then started describing the difference. he then changed his mind and said that it was bear poop. we kept arguing. about 5 minutes later we passed a patch of mud with beautiful, clear horse-shoe tracks. i laughed hilariously and he smiled. he then said, "i was just joking, i always knew it was horse poop." is it okay that i'm proud of the fact that i can differentiate barnyard animal bowel movements?

we stopped at a winery on the way back and bought two bottles. i think we've probably got 8-10 bottles at home right now. while i am by no means a connoisseur, i'm starting to learn what i like in a wine. mostly i like reds... merlot, ruche... oh yeah, and d'asti's (the sweet stuff that tastes like grape juice)... reisling. nate and i have found our mutual passion. we love wineries. bickering about different wines, and finally deciding on that one bottle we bring home. $16 of liquid bonding time : )