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Sunday, March 28, 2004

just exactly how freakish AM I?

note to self: Either make somewhat-strenuous hill hikes part of a daily/weekly regimen, or don't do them at all. You know you always end up moaning in pain if you do, say, one every five years.

However, I think the views were worth the aches and pains:









(These are thumbnails; you can click on them to view the full-sized pictures. ha. Remember when 340x256 was a full-sized picture?
Also, yes, this is near where I live; my parents' house is in one of the pictures. Lucky me. And no, none of it's for sale.)

Also, while I have your attention (oh shut up, I hear you laughing, no, wait, that's snoring...), I have a question. Just exactly how freakish am I? I mean, here's something that happened to me about fifteen minutes ago: I was scooping ice cream (Dulce de Leche, which is Spanish for "my current diet-disaster obsession"). Somehow a good-sized scoop of ice cream managed to roll off the scooper and in my attempt to catch it, since I was holding the ice cream carton in one hand and the scoop in the other and hence was rendered as manually dexterous as, oh, a cow, I ended up trying to capture it in the crook of my elbows, but I failed. Can you get a mental image of this? This kind of thing (thankfully not this precise situation) happens to me with some regularity. Now, back to my question. Am I the only one? Was I brought to earth from some distant Planet Freakishness and switched, in the dark of night, for the perfectly normal and graceful baby my parents should have had? Am I some kind of changeling from the clumsiness fairy? Or is this the kind of thing that some other people (I can't hope that everyone does this) do also, and just nobody talks about? Or maybe I shouldn't ask this question. Nevermind, don't answer.