I don't begrudge you moving to the West Coast

But it doesn't mean I'm not gonna miss you like hell.

My friend Mikey had a going away BBQ this weekend. Fucker got himself a better paying job in a better climate in the same state as his girlfriend, AND TOOK IT!! Despite getting to catch up with some long lost climbing buddies (this means you, Graham and Ben) and meeting some new ones, the whole event was overall just v. sad. But like they say in Whistle Stop, "A heart can be broken, but it will keep beating just the same." Or, "I have yet another reason to visit California."



On Sunday, I declared it "Lazy Sunday" and had PT make me cornbread (yum, thanks!) while I watched the Phantom Gourmet. Well, at least until the Phantom was over, then I declared "Sunday where we drive around the backroads of Sturbridge looking for a Holiday Inn that is really a Best Western and then go hiking in Tick Country." My sister and I had a lovely hike through Wells State Park where we saw beaver dams, tadpoles and an unattended baby. (That was later attended to, thank goodness.)

We hiked an awesome trail up to the top of a rocky ridge where we stood and surveyed the landscape and wondered if the updraft was strong enough to keep us from falling off. (We didn't get close enough to the edge to find out.) As we were about ready to head down, I SENSED something. My tick sense told me to check my sock. Sure enough, one of the little bastards was trying to burrow his way through my SmartWool. We flicked him away and took off running back to the car, glancing occasionally over our shoulders to see if he was gonna catch up to us on his mountain bike. (Hahahha. NOPE! Victory!)