Moab, May 2004
Stormy start, short term pessimism.
Turning to long term optimism.
Contemplating a campsite... (not taken)
Some of us contented ourselves with the stars that night; others
consulted their palm pilots.
Waking.
Ventilating post-burritos.
Sleepy boys.
Greasy boys.
Pre-leisurely breakfast and extended debate about Sovereign Trail vs. Porcupine.
Never mind. Amasa back (sent by the bike store guy).
Ready.
Set.
I shade a seat, a seat I shade, and on the shaded seat I sit.
Ansen thinks we are at the viewpoint.
Is he not catching on?
Hard as a rock, stiff as a board, light as a feather.
Just like Gilligan's island.
When words were still flowing (continually, not continuously).
We did not tell ghost stories (unless you count Aunt Myrtle), or sing acapella.
We did figure something out about blue moons and apparent day vs. night plane speed.
Dreamy liquid purple fire. Neo.
Blind leading the blind, lost on the way to Bartlett.
Lunch.
Seriously, whose socks better match their shoes?
We leave the kids and stop to smell the flowers.
Pre-Amasa back video
Post-Amasa back video
