Monday, February 18, 2013

Is It Normal To Call Your Valentine A Shitface?

I'm a very lucky girl.  I know this.  I have a number of people in my life who love me and tell me so on a daily basis.  One of those people is E2.  My Erik. 

Sometime around the sweet inception of our relationship, he initiated the ever popular tradition of discarding one's tried and true birth name and replacing it with a more tender, meaningful name.  In my case, I was christened Pumpkin. 

I remember thinking to myself, "Pumpkin?  Did he seriously just call me pumpkin?  The hell?".

In response, I immediately dubbed him, My Little Dumpling Nugget Butt.  He was not impressed.  And I'm lazy.  It was promptly shortened to Dumpling.  But why stop there?  Why impose an extra syllable when one is more than satisfactory? 

It was shortened even further to Dump. 

Three years later, when he's not referring to me as "Ginger", I answer to "Pump".

And so it was, Pump and Dump took the day off work to celebrate Valentines Day together.

With the sun just beginning to peek through the bedroom curtains, he bestowed upon me a dozen beautiful red roses followed by breakfast in bed.  A tray laden with plump strawberries with creme fraiche and brown sugar.  Buttery, flaky, still warm croissants and the most perfect, refreshing mimosas you could imagine.

The morning turned to afternoon as we spent the day languishing in bed enjoying first the breakfast, and then each other.  Before we knew it, the day was completely wasted and we'd accomplished absolutely nothing and had to return to the daily grind the next morning.

That scenario sucks.  So instead, for Valentines Day this year, I requested we spend the day snowboarding.
Presented the night before Valentines.  No time for this B.S. on V-Day.  There's snow waiting to be frolicked in.

And frolic we did!

The sun was shining, most of Salt Lake was at work, and I was a very happy girl.

See?  Happy!  My mouth was a little frozen, otherwise I would have looked as happy as Dump.

Hadn't bothered to take off my board.  I'm not usually such a leaner.  I AM usually this lazy.

 It hasn't snowed in a while so everything was pretty tracked out.  The only powder we could find was through the trees.  In a mistakenly optimistic assessment of my skills, I thought it wise to follow Erik through one such run.  Shockingly, I didn't make it.  I unstrapped one foot, stepped down and sunk into powder past my knee. 


10 minutes of huffing like an asthmatic being choked out by their lover with exceptionally meaty hands, I finally made it back to the safety of groomed runs.  I sat recuperating and sent out silent prayers of thanks to the tree limbs that were sacrificed in my struggle to pull myself out.

It was not okay.
And neither was this...

Pretty sure it's a widely known fact that shitface is a term of endearment.  Especially on Valentines Day.  Right?  What.  Just me? 


A few more runs and I could feel my legs turning to jelly.  One of the things I love most in this world is sailing down a mountain, wind whipping my hair behind me and ripping at my jacket.

One of the things I like least in this world is sailing down a mountain with tired jelly legs that have become too lazy to dig in hard enough to make the turn.  I've made the mistake of wanting "just one more run" when I've gotten to this point.  It never ends well for me or my noggin.  It was time to go.

Erik's winning smile!

Exhausted but happy.  I really am one very lucky and very loved girl.

Sunday, February 3, 2013

Because it's Never Too Late for Christmas!

I think it's time I posted the second half of how I spent Christmas.  But it's already February you say?  Shut it.  I do what I want.  Which means I'm simply copying a few journal snippets I drunkenly scribbled down along the way, accompanied with a shload of pictures.  Because I like pictures.  

Sometimes Erik does what I want too.  This was our third Christmas together.  Kind of a big deal for me seeing as how I don't have the best track record for sticking with things.  People included.  I wanted to celebrate by sending out Christmas cards of my makeshift little family. 

Yeah, her name is Kitten.  When she adopted Erik, he never expected her to stay and 7 years later still hasn't named her.

Saturday December 22, 2012

Erik and I are back in Valley of Fire, NV.  He went off about an hour ago to shoot the stars.  I've stayed behind to keep the fire going.  Which really means, to drink the wine.  While sitting here staring at the fire, I saw a shadow moving about 5 feet away from me.  I assumed it was a squirrel.  I turn on my headlamp and shine it on the biggest mother-loving squirrel I've ever seen.  

I don't know what the hell this thing is and I'm scared.  So naturally, I jump up and aggressively stagger towards it.  My stagger isn't nearly as intimidatingly aggressive as I assume because this creature doesn't budge.  Just stands there watching me until I lose the game of chicken and stop about a foot away.  

It blinks at me once and I realize it's a fox.  It realizes I'm a ridiculously inept human and runs off the way it came, probably worried that I would infect it with rabies.  

Erik still isn't back.

Sunday December 23, 2013

Badwater Death Valley, CA

As desolate as I remembered.  
Only this time, it wasn't under water due to a fluke flooding.  And although it was just for a day, the world was my own personal salt lick.  

Since there are rarely other people around to snap a photo for us, we don't take many shots of the two of us together.  It's cool though.  I got it covered.  
Guess who got bored?
But then the sun FINALLY rose...
And it was phenomenal. 
 Erik told me he had a nightmare last night.  He dreamt that I'd left him.  Broken up with him.  He said he was wandering around somewhere and feeling this tragically sad, lost emotion.  Lonely, he said.  And like he'd never be able to love anyone again the way he had loved me.

Which explains why, in the middle of the night last night, I woke up because he scooped his arm over me and snuggled me in.

It made my heart ache.

 Monday December 24, 2012

So here we are.  Christmas Eve.  80 miles from civilization on a desert playa where rocks move of their own accord which scientists have yet to explain.

Our only neighbors are a Dutch couple in an FJ Cruiser listening to what sounds like Eddie Vedder on a ukelele.

It's currently 10:15pm at The Racetrack, Death Valley. 

 I'm not sure if I've posted the picture below before, it's one of my favorites that Erik's ever taken.  It was a sunset shot and he wanted to try to get another one with different lighting of the two rocks he had named "The Twins".

The two of us searched the racetrack for over an hour trying to find them.  After lining up the horizon and heading in the right direction, this is what he finally found...

Some shitty tourist decided they wanted a couple of souvenirs to take home to collect dust on their mantle until they tired of them and tossed them out.  Please, people, when you go to National, State, or any other kind of park, take photos, admire the beauty around you but for the love, DON'T BE A SHIT FACE AND LEAVE IT AS YOU FOUND IT!!!!!!  Thank you in advance for your cooperation.  

Wednesday December 26, 2012

It's the day after Christmas and we woke up in Alabama Hills to a few inches of snow.  It was stunningly beautiful and simply breathtaking. 

As beautiful as the scenery is, something even more beautiful has transpired this morning.  For the first time in my 36 years, I've pooped in the wilderness.  It felt so incredibly liberating and ohhh the sweet relief.  I was so excited I ran back to the camper to get my camera.  I took a picture then hiked out to where Erik was shooting.  He did not appreciate it like he should have.  He glanced at it, made a face and his only comment was, "You need more fiber".  

I was not to be deterred because it was GLORIOUS.  Like a perfectly formed dollop of chocolate soft serve with a cute little peaked top and all.

Behold it's glory!!!  Side note, I made the picture as small as I could.  For that, you're welcome.

We've worked our way to Bishop, Ca where, after 5 days of filth, we were able to pay $5.00 to wash off in this shady little plastic contraption they tried to pass off as a shower.  

As I was frantically lathering up before the hot water ran out, the thought crossed my mind that there were probably hidden cameras that I'd neglected to check for.  At this point, I was so tired of my greasy hair being plastered to my skull, I didn't care if an entire tribe of Paiute dudes enjoyed a circle jerk thanks to my debut as an unwitting voyeur star.  

I'm clean.  I have a newly opened bottle of Merlot, and Erik is making us braised beef with red potatoes for dinner.

Life is good. 

The last time Erik and I went to Bishop, he took me on a hike to see ancient Native American petroglyphs and I refused to tell anyone how to get there.  THIS IS WHY!!!!

Luckily, there are more they didn't get and Erik braved the frigid night air to capture this amazing shot.

Friday December 28, 2012

Now we're at the Eureka Sand Dunes.  The only thing of any consequence that has happened today is seeing a fighter jet zoom by overheard a couple of times.  It was flying lower than the 700 ft. sand dune.  The pilot banked hard and we could actually see him.  Erik steadfastly refused my encouraging suggestions to moon him. 

My excitement for camping is definitely waning.  I'm getting pretty sick of squatting in the desert to pee and not being able to wash my hands.  Isn't this how half of Europe was practically wiped out in the 40's?  Or maybe I'm thinking of Hitler.  

Maybe I'll feel better after dinner and some wine.

Because unlike Hitler, wine makes everything better.