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A Much Needed Return To Christmas Mountain

“When I was younger, my friends and I used to do an Invincible Week.”

Well, that sounds like something I need to do.

“We stopped after our last event when they had to send search and rescue for us.”

Yes. This speaks to me.

In all fairness, it’s speaking to me a little less this morning.

Or. Maybe not less. But it’s actually raising its voice telling me “you no longer heal fast enough for something like that.”

But…I’ve got this ridiculous insurance deductible I never meet…

So, yesterday I returned to the place where bad ideas are birthed.

And about a mile in. We saw a baby bear.

At Christmas Mountain.

Not, like, teeny tiny baby bear. That you could cuddle.

But a bear cub. Probably too big to cuddle. But little enough to make you wonder…where exactly it’s momma was…

So what we’re looking at here. Is a big ole pile of bear shit.

Like, really big poos.

Like, sizeable enough to make you nervous that you still hadn’t seen that momma bear. And exactly how big was Big Momma, anyway.

Now. Based on this set of circumstances. A smarter group may have turned back. Said, “you know, hunting season just kicked off anyway. Let’s head on back to the house for some football and beer.”

And if we had done that. I might not have spent the night unable to find a comfortable sleeping position. Because scabbing. And bruising. And tibia trying to poke through skin.

But some of you may recall Rogue posting this little sign from the universe after our trip to AOF last weekend.

Nope. We sure didn’t turn around.

Until the road dead ended.

And we had to.

Because we definitely made a wrong turn.

And you might recall that time. That we climbed Christmas Mountain. In a monsoon. As every one of our emergency alert systems was sounding off on our phones.

Sure didn’t turn back then, either.

So obviously we kept rolling on up the mountain last night.

Through the threat of Big Momma Bear consumption.

Because you don’t just skip out on views like this.

With people like these.

Nope. I won’t post pics of other people’s faces in my blog. For their own privacy.

But I’ll Damn sure put your ass in my blog.

Because my mountain family is basically a group of functional idiots.

We enjoyed beer. And snacks. And views.

And Beautiful Beastie told GJB he was right. About something. So he had to call Lil T and tell her. That BB said he was right. About something.

Because up on that mountain. Looking out at all of the other mountains. Is about the only time we allow him to be right.

“I don’t understand why y’all go so far out of your way to disagree with me.”

“We don’t go out of our way. It’s right on the way. Of wherever we’re going.”

And we got all caught up. On all the dumbass shit some of the family has done. Like Cloudsplitter. And all of the dumbass shit we’re all gonna do. Like Cloudsplitter.

And maybe I shouldn’t have had that last shot. Of whatever was in the flask Everyone’s Favorite Husband kept handing me. As we were gathering on our staging rock. For some photo ops.

But I was out there looking for some of the fucks I’ve lost. You know? And impaired vision helps with that.

So shortly after this.

Where I forced Rogue and BB to pose with. And physically support me. While I did what I describe as twerking. Just really sexy and coordinated twerking.

I started to head back down.

The giant rock.

And immediately lost my footing.

And landed on my left hip. And elbow. And tibia. Or fibia. Or whatever.

And then slid.

At a pretty nice rate of speed.

Alllll the way to the edge.

Of the world.

Or maybe just the rock.

And I don’t know how high up off the ground we were.

But I managed to come to a full and complete stop. Before going the rest of the way over.

Hopped right back up.

And headed on back down the mountain.

At one point. I did stop and actually look down at my leg. To assess.

Y’all. I don’t feel any pain. But it looks like maybe my tibia is poking through the skin. Under my tights.

“You’ll be fine. Just keep going.”

That was one of the doctors said that.

So it sounded right.

And then I started laughing.


And peeing.


So Rogue. And GJB. Told me to stop moving. And go pee.

But I was done by that point.

No reason to try to wrestle my tights down. On the edge of a straight the fuck down mountain.

And let my tibia complete its escape through my skin.

So we kept going.

And we made our way back to the house.

As the sun was setting.

And it was another perfect family Christmas.

And I found just enough fucks. To make it through this week. And the last of coaching season.

I just may be moving a little slower. Than normal.

Because of this tibia situation.



Just reading and writing and running and looking for my happy place.

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