I recently returned from the Black Hills, a place that, as my friend, JM states: “demands your respect.” Here are some beautiful photos of the fall colors and newly fallen snow in Spearfish Canyon.
“Pack your party pants” was the common phrase flying around before this trip. Unfortunately, after one night of wine and cigarettes, my party pants ripped right through. The next day (the day I had to present my work in front of my colleagues, good lord), the following happened:
1. Wrote some great procrastination poetry at 8:00 am
2. Took a shot of olive oil to calm the stomach and get rid of the shakes.
3. Became startled by the rug coming to life (It was just CW, laying on the floor looking for her cat. Her pajamas matched the design in the rug)
4. Was that a ghost sitting in the dining room chair? I was sitting there!
5. Taunted a cat. Sorry, CW, Wicket had it coming to him.
6. Could not contain nervous giggling/crying on the inside.
7. Was told that I look like a stewardess in my suit.
8. Thought I lost my skirt in the bathroom due to hyper-short-term memory loss. Turns out, I just pulled the skirt up instead of pulling it down.
9. Was told not to take the stewardess comment the wrong way, and that “the outfit is hot”.
10. Experienced an awkward silence with my former professor after the comment in #9.
All ended well, the poetry collection came together and the shakes eventually subsided. I am happy to be home, but my time in the hills won’t soon be forgotten.
Thank you, all.