07.27.2003 - 12:24 p.m.
This morning JB left the house
at an ungodly hour, heading to Mt. Rainer for a mountaineering
course taught by the well-known guiding service RMI. This is a one day climbing school, which
will hopefully provide JB with valuable skills such as How To
Avoid Tumbling Into Giant Icy Crevasses. Oh, and it also teaches
'the latest in ice axe arrest practices', or 'how to stop yourself
from plummeting into fucking space if you eat shit on
The class is required for a
guided summit attempt, which JB is doing August 10-11. He's really
on a roll lately. Between training to be a tech diver, which
apparently involves breathing something called TriOx in order
to stay underwater for, like, fourteen thousand hours at a time,
he's on this endeavor to scale our local enormous hunk of rock
I don't share JB's love for
these particular outdoor activities. Because diving in the Puget
Sound - cold, dark, limited visibility? Eek. Plus, there's
life down there. I am rather fond of the grouchy-looking
wolf eel, but prefer the aquarium glass between us. As for mountain
climbing, I have to count internally when I walk down a flight
of stairs, because I believe this keeps me from tripping and
falling to a bone-crunching heap - I can't imagine inching down
a deadly pitch wearing crampons, whispering "242,563; 242,564;
" And the vaguely OCD stuff aside, I am both
afraid of heights and large amounts of painful physical activity.
Lucky for me, JB seems content
to pursue his own interests without requiring me to join him.
We overlap in some areas, like hiking and camping, and of course
Speaking of hiking, we headed
to a nice little trail near the Snoqualmie river yesterday, which
we thought we were going to have all to ourselves, being as how
we drove the World's Longest and Dustiest Gravel Road
to get there, but nay, the parking area was quite full. Seattle!
So many people, everyone trying to get outside during the short-lived
Despite being attacked mercilessly
by flies the entire time, it was a pretty walk through the woods
with the river burbling along nearby.
Dog, swimming in a
JB and a slippery-footed
Yours truly, holding
back an unruly lock of hair. Also, hellooooo brastrap!
JB's brother Joe is a funeral
director. Or mortician, if you please. Undertaker. You know Six
Feet Under? That's what he does. Anyway, he left a message on
our answering machine the other day:
Joe: "DUDE. You have got
to hear about this death I was on. The worst thing I've ever
seen, man. I'm telling you, I puked. Second time in my
life that's happened. Anyway, give me a call!"
It's gross, I know, but I was
dying (heh) to hear what the story was. I made JB call him right
away to get the details. Basically, a 300+ pound man dies in
his armchair. Two weeks go by. It's been sweltering hot. That's
when Joe has to go pick up the body. There's more, but really,
you might be eating right now.
So, next time your job is bugging
you, just think to yourself, "Hey, at least I don't have
to touch a giant decomposed dead body today".
Unless, well, you do. In which
case you might want to try putting some Vick's under your nose.
I hear that helps.
go back :::
comments so far.
I have moved. - 1.03.2005
Obviously, a work in progress. - 12.27.2004
Happy holidays! - 12.24.2004
Listen, I am not a complete dick, it's not like I want Joe to die alone surrounded by cats or something. - 12.23.2004
Plus I am convinced my butt is extra big when it's upside down. - 12.22.2004