April 5, 2010
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Betsy
I have a funny relationship with the Internet. Sometimes I abandon it altogether. Other times I exhaust all outlets until I find myself watching Youtube videos of surfing and Regina Spektor covers. One thing’s for sure. I always run the risk of discovering something that fascinates me – whether it’s a kid eating a jalapeno, or a commentary so genius that it causes the top part of my head to lift off. (That’s why I keep coming back).
Brahma
Here’s a man that wields a chainsaw in sixty-foot treetops, scuba dives in freezing cold jellyfish-filled water at night (alone), dismantles a ’78 Suzuki motorbike and teaches himself to rebuild it, takes my home project ideas and makes them happen, has butterflied my head wounds and kissed me when I'm sick, needs to talk as much as any woman, knows the name of every flower known to man, refuses to use a puff in the shower, sings all my silly songs – and some of his own. I love that when caught in conversation with a shameless one-upper, he don’t play.
Bear
We have the sweetest baby in the world. He smiles, sighs, gets tired, sleeps, sucks his fingers and holds me ransom for milk every thirty eight minutes. What would I do without him?
Baba
What started as an endearing phrase in plain English - “That’s a baby girl!” - has long since morphed into our doggie dialect, which sounds more like “Zah Zah Baba Gurl.” From said phrase we've gotten a whole host of names for our dog. Though they’re a bit less prophetic than her original, tried-and-true name (Trail), she’ll perk up to the sound of: Zah Zah Baba, Baba Gurl, B.G., Zah-Zah, That Ol' Zah, Ye Olde Baba, Dark Star, Sweet Star and just plain Baba. I will probably be right most of the time if I tell you that right now she is turning circles on her blanket.
The Appalachian Trail
Here's the story of a time when we quit our jobs and spent a bunch of money on gear, started walking in Georgia and didn't stop til' Maine. It was fuuuun times.
About Us
- Betsy
- We used to go by our trail names - Brahma Bull and Sweet Potato - and those were the days we would sit atop our Thermarests after hiking 18.2 miles and agree with a Zen-like and dirty-fingernailed motion toward the trees that 'walking distance' was a relative term. Now that we shower regularly, brew coffee every morning using electricity, and are unable to confuse our names with either vegetables or animals, we know. Walking distance really is about half a mile.
come back....late is better than never!
ReplyDeleteSame here. My blog has turned into a wasteland. I blame the 90 degree goodness outside.
ReplyDeleteI miss your blog!
ReplyDeleteLynda
Don't know that one, Bets. How about, "Abandon hope, all ye who enter"? I know, it doesn't quite have the same ring.
ReplyDeleteBETSY AND DUSTIN,
ReplyDeleteWHAT A WONDERFUL SURPRISE TO GET A PHONE CALL FROM DUSTIN!! IT MADE US FEEL VERY SPECIAL AND BROUGHT BACK FOND MEMORIES OF FOLLOWING YOU ON THE TRAIL A COUPLE OF YEARS AGO. MY, HOW TIME FLIES. PLEASE KEEP IN TOUCH, AND OH YES, DUSTIN DON'T FORGET TO SEND US YOUR ADDRESS, PHONE NUMBERS, ETC. WE TOLD KENDALL THAT WE HAD HEARD FROM YOU. THANKS FOR THE CALL AND UPDATES ON ALL THAT YOU ARE DOING..
LOVE, SCOTTIE AND CARL