Puppy Alamo!

Before you have actually had your very own puppy, that is all yours, that your the sole carer for this little living breathing thing, that you alone are taking care of without the "help" of your parents...well before you get them you don't know exactly what to expect. You really don't know how you are going to feel. Your emotions rest in the "I'm so freaking excited I don't know what to do with myself" state.

And then the little guy comes home, and you stay in that excited bubble, but the motherly instincts you have made fun of so many others for so many years, start to kick in. And it's ridiculous really because let's be honest it's a dog not a child, but all the sudden walking my own little puppy on a leash attached to its neck just seemed cruel, and inhumane. Not something I would have ever expected to feel. Not something I ever judged another for doing. But all the sudden, when I looked at my puppy with a leash attached to his neck, I started seeing flashes of the people you see at disneyland who keep tabs on their children by attaching them to a leash. I won't lie, I totally judge those people. Call me a terrible person but I think it is completely wrong to put children on leashes. I just really didn't expect to feel that way when I got my puppy. Go figure.

My point is that you just can't know how you are going to feel, before it happens. I got my puppy and he became as much a member of our household as my boyfriend or myself. I felt terrible to make him sleep on the floor, I just couldn't watch it. I started making up reasons for why he would cry. "He's just really tired...he's uncomfortable...he's just a puppy and wants to play." As if I would know, not like he could tell me any of these things but my puppy became my baby...totally was NOT expecting that. I'm the person that everyone makes fun of. I'm the one that goes out of my way to make excuses for my dog, and I'm the person who gives dirty looks to the people who talk shit about my dog. Who would have guessed? Not me.

I mean I get it, not everyone is a dog lover, I can respect that, but when you claim my puppy who just wants to play is in fact "trying to bite you", no he's really not, he's just a puppy. I totally stand up for my dog, yep I am now that person. Crazy right.

So we already know that I turned into puppy mama 2.0 the day I got my pup. It's ok the first step to recovery is Acceptance, but just like all these feelings I could have never expected to have, I also did not know what to expect out of teething. I mean, the horror stories are real people. I've heard plenty ranging from chewed up shoes to ruined furniture, very expensive furniture. I've heard of puppies going to town on baseboards, cabinets, bed frames, doors, you thought it couldn't be chewed but somehow a chunk out of the pillar in the entry-way was missing. We aren't talking minor mishaps here, these are full out major damages and the repair costs are the kind that burn a hole in your wallet. You could say that I was a little bit worried as the time for teething approached.

It just never happened. I haven't seen one chewed shoe let alone any rugs or furniture. The only thing I noticed was that my puppy started sleeping, all day long. And funny enough the opposite of chewing happened, he didn't want to chew at all, not even his food. Poor little guy, I could tell he was hurting (he didn't cry or anything but like I said I have puppy mama 2.0 instincts so I know.)

Despite his lethargic demeanor, when we got to #KODAtheadventuredog and #mountEVEREST's house, #KENAItheridgebackpup was back to his normal upbeat self. The dog knows where were going from miles away. Pulling up to their house he can barely contain his excitement. He NEVER pulls on his leash, until its time to get into their house, then all bets are off. I mean my puppy is a total mama's boy, except when we go to their house, then he's like see ya later mom, and by later I mean next time I get hungry, then I'll come and give you some love. (I feel so used).

Now, both Koda and Everest are alaskan malamutes, they have very thick, long fur. Koda is red and white and Everest as you may have guessed is completely white (clever right). They can get pretty dirty very quickly but breaking skin is a little bit tougher, I think, just because they are so damn fluffy. "He's so fluffy I could DIE!!!)

Somehow today though, one of the four pups here broke skin. #MightymountEVEREST came in with blood everywhere, fresh blood and it looked like it was gushing. She isn't technically my puppy, but there were those motherly instincts kicking in once again. I started to clean her up looking for the source of the bleeding when I noticed #kingKODA come in with blood pouring out of his back ankle and front right paw. I mean it was a bloodbath. How did I miss this? I didn't hear any commotion outside; no growling, no barking, no whining, nothing out of the ordinary playful sounds. The thing is though you just never know with #JAKEthedog. He did bite a chunk out of #PrinceKENAI's ear only a week and a half after we got him. #OldmanJAKE was the only puppy to come in squeaky clean though, not a speck of blood on him. That was unexpected.

Kenai however, had guilty written all over his face, well mouth I should say. The blood was practically dripping out of it. Now as a #furparent, this is the most devastating thing you could witness, that however, is something I would expect; I don't like vicious dogs at all! The thing that surprised me is that my puppy does not have an aggressive bone in his body, he thinks all dogs and people want to be friends with him. Even people who shoo him away or dogs that aren't afraid to show their fangs (and use them too), he still wants to play. The only noticeable trait I've seen in my little guy is that he is more like a #scardyCAT than a future #100pounddog. A larger dog comes running towards him and he runs to me with his tail between his legs. Actually now that I think of it, it could be a 7 pound chihuahua barking while chasing him, he still ran away crying with his tail between his legs. (Now that was one funny moment to witness. Aww I'm so mean, but yeah still so funny). To be honest though, I really like that my puppy has no desire to be the Alpha dog, I like that he gets along, I like that he's mellow. For me, it's more than alright that he's a lover and not a fighter, that was, until earlier today.

And when something like this happens, a million thoughts go through your head. I mean it's only been 2 and a half months but it was love at first sight with this little guy. I love him, but I don't like him all the time, especially the times when he pees all over my yoga mat or diarrheas on the downstairs rug, generally though I can't really fathom how we ever survived without him. So when I saw my puppy with a mouth full of blood, it was hard to accept that he had become a vicious cold blooded killer. I mean no he hadn't actually killed any people or animals, but a dog who is willing to get mean with his best friends, well that dog is downright dangerous and I had to accept that even if it did happen to be my sweet little puppy who would never hurt a fly.

I wanted to cry. Things just weren't adding up and I was feeling a bit unfit to be puppysitting, until we found the real culprit. Kenai's tooth was laying on the floor bloody next to all three puppies. Then he went to play with #EVERESTwhiteassnow and smeared blood all over her. So the truth was we didn't hear any vicious sounds because there was no malicious behavior. My little teething puppy was doing just what all teething puppies definitely do, losing teeth. Like so many other things I haven't expected since bringing my puppy home, I didn't expect he would lose so much blood when he lost a tooth. Now that was relief if I had ever felt it. You can only imagine how good it feels to confirm that your puppy is not a vicious killer. I looked at the blood drenched puppies in front of me with a huge grin. It looked like the Puppy ALAMO all because of a tiny tooth. 

Next time I'll take a Raincheck!

Ok so let's be honest, we are spoiled rotten in Southern California. I know there are other beautiful places to visit (trust me I've seen them), but nothing beats 75 degrees and sunny standing on the beach in the middle of February. I'm not trying to brag, I consider myself one lucky girl to live in such an amazing place, but hands down we have the best weather in the world. Well normally.

Now I know if you are sitting in some freezing cold corner of the world you are going to be judging me while reading this entire post. After all, what's a little rain in comparison to 14 inches of snowfall in a single night as a blizzard was passing through. And I commend you for being tough enough to survive. Somehow when you live in a cold and dark place you learn how to cope with it. Welcome to living in the Netherlands during their coldest winter they had experienced in 28 years (how I managed that timing is beyond me) but really, have you ever played ice hockey on a frozen pond? ...because I have. And I will tell you it has to be freeze your a$$ off cold for a pond to be frozen enough to skate on. What I'm getting at is that I can totally relate to surviving in cold weather, it's not that big a deal, you get used to it. Stop complaining you California pussies.

In our defense though, when you are sitting a million miles away on the opposite side of the planet where winter is filled with sunshine and smiles, braving the cold takes a lot more courage. Clouds are scary and rain, well... rain seems like the end of the world.

Fast forward to present day Southern California winter, we're smack dab in the middle of what is being called the most EPIC El Nino in history. It's been really tough. During one day in January I remember how bad the weather was because my puppy was having none of it. On that day he just sat and cried when I took him out to pee. He can be one stubborn puppy, he sat there with his head droopy, he whimpered and he refused to pee in the rain, he went promptly after we got back inside though. It was a really hard day as you can tell. Even my puppy was not happy about this El Nino business. Other than that though, I have to be honest, this heavy Crazy El Nino season has been disguising itself as a lovely second summer.

That is until yesterday. Normally when this kind of weather presents itself I'd brew up a nice hot cup of chai tea and snuggle up on the couch, space heater blasting, watching the latest episode of the Bachelor, getting my fill of puppy cuddles. Why brave the cold when you can hold off for a day until the sun comes back out. But we had promised an epic 10 mile Anniversary hike with my little sister and her boyfriend. Celebrating 7 years of togetherness, you don't back out on that just because a little rain. We left our house a 6am. It was a 2 hour drive to the trailhead, we were sure the rain would pass.

It poured the entire way to San Diego. We stopped briefly to meet up with our caravan and decided the rain would surely clear up by the time we got up the mountain. The weather report stated differently, but we were confident and we weren't backing down. The drive was filled with thick fog and heavy rain. As we headed up the mountain I watched the thermostat drop in temperature. We arrived at the trailhead, it was 36 degrees and pouring. I stepped outside and deeply regretted that I had not yet purchased my down jacket also that I had left my all weather jacket at home. I was so grateful though that I decided to bring my heavier fleece that morning, more out of convenience than anything else. It happened to be laying on the couch from the other night when I wore it to the dog park at 9:30pm. Luckily the material was somewhat water resistant.

My puppy is not a fan of the rain but he braved it so he could go and hike with his good friend #KODAtheadventuredog. The BF was the most surprising of everyone. He was grinning and bearing it. I expected a lot more complaining. 5 steps into the hike though, "It's not too late to turn back!!" He said it with a joking smile. He was totally serious though. On the inside I really wanted to go home, but you can't turn your back on a 7 year celebration, not because of a little rain. We trekked forward.

Within the first 10 minutes I wished I had worn another pair of pants and a jacket and a poncho with a portable space heater; the rain had completely soaked through all of my clothes. I was so thankful for the waterproof hat underneath the beanie I was wearing, at least it was able to keep my head dry and the rain out of my face. At this point it was no secret that I wanted to turn around, I was shivering and wet, but everyone else kept their spirits up. Hell, the BF and our puppy, who hates rain, were leading the pack. They were 300 ft in front of us and going fast enough to steadily widen the gap.

The wind had picked up noticeably and ripped through my soaking wet clothes, I was beyond ready to turn around but the BF had my keys and my puppy so I kept putting one foot in front of the other. We all made jokes about how this would be the best hike we had been on this year, how the most unfortunate conditions made for the very best stories. I mean Bee was in shorts and hiking with ease. #KODAtheadventuredog was loving life. He was leading and couldn't be happier with this miserable weather. I would say he preferred it, I guess he is originally from ALASKA. #KENAItheridgebackpup looked from 300ft behind as if he was enjoying himself. I mustered a fake smile as my hands went numb. We kept walking.

Finally the leaders stopped to let us catch up. When we got there, #KODAtheadventuredog had a huge grin on his face, then I saw #KENAItheridgebackpup. He was attempting to hide from the rain behind the BF. He was whimpering and shivering ferociously. I gave in "Babe, I want to turn around."

I'll be honest, I was the one who was pushing to grin and bear it from five in the morning before we ever left. It wouldn't be that bad. It's just a little rain, no big deal. Almost 2 miles in though the weather had completely killed my pride. The BF did not hesitate at the opportunity. He was totally drenched and as cold as both the puppy and myself. I felt terrible, 7 years is a lot to turn your back on. But I couldn't do it. I couldn't feel my hands or my feet and I just wanted to get back to the car.

I didn't realize how far we had actually walked though. When we turned around we were walking against the wind, I didn't think it could get worse, but it totally did. Poor #KENAItheridgebackpup had his tail between his legs the entire walk back to the trailhead. He would run forward a bit then wait for us with his head down, crying the whole time. I don't blame him, he is not from ALASKA, actually the opposite in AFRICA. Braving the heat is welcomed by this puppy. The rain is an entirely different story.

Finally we approached the trailhead, the BF hadn't noticed but I knew it was coming and #KENAItheridgebackpup did to. He was off leash and made a sprint for the car. My fur-parent instincts kicked in, the car meant the highway, and the highway meant fast moving vehicles. The BF chased down my puppy and brought him safely to the car. I was sure he would grab the blanket out of the back and try and wipe down some of the mud from the puppy. I guess that didn't happen, When I got to the car the blanket was stowed safely in the back and #KENAItheridgebackpup had already jumped in the car to shake off all the muddy water. Perfect! I wasn't entirely happy about the situation, mostly because I was pretty much numb from the eyes down and didn't want to stand in the rain to try and clean up the mess. I accepted defeat and got in the car.

Despite the heater being on full blast and my seat heater was on high, I continued to shiver along with my puppy. The goal was just to get home and get in a hot shower. Kenai shivered the entire ride back, poor puppy. I tried to hold him close but my body heat may have been at an all time low at that point. I could have rang out a gallon of water from all of our clothes. There wasn't an inch on any of us that had stayed dry. We took a hot shower promptly after arriving home.

My lil sis and the rest of the crew arrived shortly after us. Within an hour if I had to guess. Apparently they had made a few wrong turns and cut the 10 mile hike in half. Ponchos, rain jackets and all, they too were completely soaked through. Tea poured a significant amount of water out of her boot. I've heard of squeaky shoes but I've never actually seen someone pour an entire pitcher of water worth out of their shoe. Of course the sun had decided to show itself by that point. It wasn't a terrible hike but I won't lie, it would have been so much more enjoyable on a day it was not pouring rain and under 40 degrees.

Now, I know what all of you on the other side of the world, living through a horrific winter are thinking-this girl is a wimp for turning around early-you would have stuck it out, you are immune to unpleasant weather conditions and frankly probably a better person than me. The thing is though, in Southern California it doesn't take 6 months to see the sun again, and I've decided that the sun is not overrated. It's really not about not being able to handle the rain or the cold, it's about not wanting to. So although it made for a good story, next time I wake up to pouring rain on the day of a hike, maybe even a 7 year celebration hike, I'll take a RAINCHECK because we can snuggle up, drink chai tea and reminisce about the last 7 years inside next to the fire. Next time we'll do the epic 10 mile celebration hike the next weekend when there's not a cloud in the sky.

What's in a name?

When it comes to picking out a name we all have our favorites. Most of us have them picked out before the baby arrives. This was the same for me in the case of my fur baby. It was the first time ever that I, myself, was getting a dog. Well my boyfriend and I were getting a dog. And we discussed names long before our puppy got here. We wanted it to be meaningful for both of us, and a great name. After some debate we came up with Hercules, a good strong name for a full grown 100 pound Rhodesian Ridgeback.

Now don't get me wrong, I liked the name. But I had my hesitations. You see, Hercules is a 3 syllable name, and kind of hard to say. Seriously, try saying it three times fast, it's a bit of a tongue twister if you ask me. I had this issue from the very beginning, choosing a three syllable name would make training a nightmare. And naming my dog Hercules to call him HERC. Well I don't really need to go over all the reasons that wasn't going to happen. But I was a bit stuck, and couldn't seem to come up with a better replacement. 

And then my boyfriend did. "What do you think of the name Moose?" I mean, I was sold. Who names their dog Moose. It was absolutely brilliant. More to the plus, the bf goes to Alaska every year, so Moose had sentimental meaning for him, and I love Mooses in general so perfect. Or not, 3 days later the bf decides he doesn't like it anymore. I offered up compromises to sell this new amazing name but the boyfriend wasn't budging. 

He came up with another name...Bowser. I wasn't a fan at all, especially after finding out it was a video game character. Ok some of you may love classic Mario. I can even appreciate it at times. But your dog's name is a huge reflection of you, and I'm super anti video games. He kept pushing for it though.

A week after we had received our puppy, he still didn't have a name. We took him hiking and on that hike we polled everyone in sight, asking them to vote between Moose and Bowser. The vast majority voted Moose, because it is an awesome name obviously. So we tried out Moose for a week. The boyfriend put out a veto, he just didn't like the name, that he came up with in the first place...

At this point I was very much resenting the fact that I okayed the 'this will be "our" dog' idea. If it was my dog I could have named him whatever I wanted. Instead I had to fight tooth and nail for any name I liked. To be honest, I couldn't come up with anything better than Moose. We tried Cannoli and decided we didn't like it. We tried Tiny. We tried Hercules again, nope that three syllable issue still bugged me. Bandit, Mega, Gelato, Ridge, Ridgey (you would be surprised at how many people suggested I name my ridgeback Ridge. Hopefully you aren't one of the people I have to explain why Ridge for a ridgeback is not unique at all and actually is just horrible. At least the BF and I agreed on that) Dash, Flash, Blitz, Zeus...this wasn't even half the names we considered and nothing was good enough for our awesome puppy. AWESOME? nope, love the word, but not for my dog's name. Sven, Beast, Ares, Bonus, Agent, Heist...

HEIST. Now this had promise. Because our puppy had a "black mask" and "white gloves" he was totally ready for the Heist. And when we got our girl...well obviously her name would be Diamond. Diamond and Heist, that was it. But after a few times actually trying to say HEIST and call it over and over. Its a one syllable name that's almost impossible to say. And oh by the way, no one got it. NO ONE. So we decided against Heist.

All the while I looked at my sweet little puppy every single day for three weeks and couldn't find a name that would stick. Now initially when I was trying to sell Moose to my boyfriend, I offered a huge compromise for our future girl puppy's name. #KENAI (pronounced Keen-eye). It was a very special name to my bf that I vetoed right off the bat, we'll save the why for another time. Just know that it was a HUGE deal for me to offer this name. He still wouldn't go for Moose.

But after three weeks of calling your puppy "Bub" because he doesn't have a name and considering every single possibility known to man, you start to realize that a lot more goes into a dog's name than it being meaningful to you. 1. you have to say it all the time, so it needs to be no more than 2 syllables. actually after this process I have realized that this is absolutely the key factor in naming a new dog. Take all the other things you thought were important off the list. 

I was so sick of coming up with cute three syllable names that were impossible to call. I was sick of considering every possibility. I wanted a cute name that was easy to say. Preferably 2 syllables and something unique. And the big one, both me and the BF had to like it.

So I called the BF one night while I was out of town and I made a wager, "I'll give you #KENAI, if I get to name the girl without your input" his only requirement was that the girl's name would not be Moose, or any variation thereof. It was a deal. His name would be #KENAI. I made it official on instagram the next day. #KENAItheridgebackpup. There was no going back, he had a hashtag.

A few days later though I was doubting my decision. Pretty much every person I said the name to, repeated it back with an inquisitive look, "Canine?" Really you think I would name my dog Canine? It's downright horrible first of all, secondly, no, just no. We considered for a half second to go back on the choice it took us 3 weeks to agree upon, but going back to the drawing board was not an option. I just didn't want to do it again. Some amazing name was not going to pop up out of the blue, I had been over every single list. KENAI was easy to call and I liked it. It's meaningful for the BF, and my sister's puppy is named KODA from Brother Bear. Our cousin puppies would be called KENAI and KODA, that was cute enough for me.

Then of course my bf name drops the perfect name for the girl puppy...KENYA, the african lion huntress. SOLD. Just to be clear though, choosing the name was my decision alone, as agreed upon based on our previous conversation. And so it is. Our 15 week old puppy really does look like a KENAI. I guess that tends to happen after you call your dog 158 times per hour. I like that its original and no one has heard it. I like that it is an easy name to say (even though it seems that somehow 88% of everyone I talk to can't get it right.) And most of all, I love that I already have the girl's name picked out for when we get her and that we do NOT have to go through this grueling process again.

#KENAItheridgebackpup #KENYAthelionhuntress #adventureswithKENAIandKENYA

Mt Wilson and the Case of the Rollaway Peanut Butter

As you can tell, it's been a while since I have sat down to put fingertips to keyboard to write you a story. You wouldn't believe me if I told you writing is a passion of mine, that secretly all I want to do is become a famous writer with readers all over the planet, so enthralled with my stories and laughing at my words. Being so hooked that they lose track of hours, and just can't put my book down. I absolutely love writing but you wouldn't know because I haven't done it, not in years; many of them to be exact. I just haven't had a story worth telling, life gets mundane and writing takes inspiration. I guess it's a little sad that I haven't found much of it in the past few years, but it looks like times may be changing as I'm sitting down and writing for you today. I didn't expect to be when the day started, god knows there was no way in hell I could have predicted what was going to happen...

Mt Wilson, if you didn't know, is one Epic hike. 14 miles round trip with 4,000ft elevation gain, well on paper it sounds like a walk in the park, I guess technically speaking it actually is just that -Tell that to your burning calves as you attempt to walk up it's 45 degree incline. And let's not forget it's winter, so time is not on your side, it's a strategic race against the sun to make it to the peak with enough time to get back to the car before Sunset. I'll kill the suspense now, we didn't make it to the peak.

But when you are hiking, there can be several peaks within one hike. The views from all of them may very well be spectacular, the harsh reality though is that you might not reach your initial goal. After all, 9.5 miles with 3500 ft in elevation gain is still one for the record books, at least at this point in my hiking experience. Hopefully by summer we can make it a lot further, hopefully all the way to the actual top. This story, however, is about making your own peak, especially when you know the real one is unattainable on that day. 

Like I mentioned earlier, when you hike during the winter, the closer it gets to lunchtime, the more you start assessing your crazy thought process of hiking 14 miles in a day, because after lunch every step you take towards the peak is one you must repeat on the way back down and sunset creeps up on you deceivingly fast. Even as a novice I know if you didn't plan on staying on the mountain overnight, it's not something you really want to do. You have to buckle down and get your little behind back to the car by sundown or you might be in for a few not so nice surprises as night creeps in.

We started out feeling good, at a decent pace, throw in some interval hiking (100 steps hard, 50 steps easy, repeat 3 times, stop do 30 full squats and repeat again). The first couple miles I was convinced we would make it all the way, until it was 12:45pm when we hit the halfway to the peak point, I guess we weren't travelling as fast as I had originally thought. 3.5 miles with 2500 ft of elevation gain feels a lot more like 6.5 miles with 3800 ft elevation gain. We however were not a half mile from the peak.

2pm approached and we were 4.75 miles in. 2.25 miles to the top. Even if we were to continue trekking, it was past lunch time. We came to a giant fallen log on the trail and decided to stop and eat. But first, I really had to go, so I walked up the trail to find a good spot to go because hey, when nature calls... Unfortunately, there wasn't one. Steep cliff side to either side I pondered whether or not to commit a big no no and let it go on the trail. I decided against that which turned out to be a good thing as there was a fellow hiker about 100 paces back. #listentoyourgut

When I got back the yelling had commenced, "Bee can't you just hold the f*cking peanut butter..." Tea was pissed and I couldn't quite figure out why. Bee strikes back, "you are capable of making your own sandwich..." they continued to go back and forth when all the sudden I notice the peanut butter rolling down the hill. The yelling persisted, we were sure to lose the peanut butter over the edge. But then the impossible happened and the jar veered right, back on to the trail, and was heading directly for Kay and Ty.

"Don't worry Tea, I got this," it looked as if the peanut butter was saved, until Kay world cupped it off the edge, falling on the trail in the process. We watched that jar bump and crash all the way down the cliff, dislodging twigs, leaves, and rocks in the process. Let's just say watching that jar disappear into the cliff's abyss was theatre worthy. We all thought the show ended there, until Bee came through with the most unexpected encore.

You see, Tea hadn't stopped yelling from the time the PB started rolling down the hill. She was ripping Bee a new one. Something about him being such an a**hole and not caring about her needs... So he got up and followed the Peanut Butter's tracks, down the trail to where Kay was still in her fallen state, and then off the side and down the cliff. He ran and slid and bumped along just as the peanut butter had. "You better not die Bee, I'll find you in the after life and kill you again..." Tea was getting nervous at this point. And then the unthinkable happened. Bee found the now broken jar of peanut butter and picked up its remains.

We all watched in anticipation as Bee tried to climb up the cliff he so effortlessly seemed to ski down. He couldn't get his footing without his hands, so he threw the peanut butter back down where he found it. Life is more valuable than a jar of peanut butter apparently. Bee chose his steps carefully, getting back up was proving to be more tricky than it was on the way down. Rocks tumbled beneath him creating the most dramatic of backdrops of this live time epic event. We were all nervous...

"Be careful," ..."watch your footing," if he would have lost his balance...well that would have been the end of life as he knew it and I'm not exaggerating. We all knew what was at stake, so when Bee stepped up onto a large boulder and started to do just that, we all held our breath for what was to happen next.

Here's the thing, in these types of seemingly harmless life or death situations, you don't really even consider that you could die. You set off on a day hike with 10 friends, and you never actually think you will lose your life, or watch your friend from 100ft up, fall backwards and tumble down a cliff to his death. You joke that it's a possibility but deep down you know it will never happen, until the stage is set and you watch as he loses his balance; arms flailing as he does in fact lose his footing off of that boulder. 

And in that moment, I'm sure we all could attest and so could you if you were there, that you watch life as you know it flash before your eyes, and that wave of helplessness floods over you. Because really what are you supposed to do, do you slide down the hill to try and save your friend who lays there lifeless and put yourself at risk of the same fate? Or do you run the 4.5 miles back for help, and then hike it all again hoping to get back in time? But let's be honest by the time you got back your friend had already suffered through his last breaths... Or do you break down right there in tears, fall to the ground and ask how the day had actually led up to this moment, this unexpected not in a million years would it happen but it's happening moment...

I looked over at Tea and she was commencing on option number 3. Tears streamed down her face as the love of her life lost his footing off the boulder and fell backwards. Luckily, it was only a stumble and we didn't have to watch our friend tumble to his death. But man, I'll be honest, I can relate way better to the whole "life flash before your eyes" thing, and it wasn't even my life. 

Bee made his way up the rest of the hill with ease, Spiderman like even. No more suspenseful is he going to fall moments. But once, you've had one of those, you're changed forever. Tea grabbed him and scolded, "Don't ever do that again. Don't ever chase a jar of peanut butter down a cliff..." Ty cut her off, "if that's not love Tea, I don't know what is." Bee just stated the obvious, "It looks like we'll be having honey sandwiches for lunch..." And we did. Honey sandwiches have never tasted so good. 

As we discussed the events that had just played out, we figured out that in fact it was not Bee who threw the peanut butter down the hill, rather #KODAtheadventuredog had knocked it off the log to send it on its journey. And I found out that Tea was so mad in the first place because she had dropped her slices of bread on the ground. How Kay managed to kick the peanut butter off the cliff is still a mystery. But to be honest, those are all seemingly insignificant things now. And how ironic was it that Bee had yelled out to Tea early on in the hike to "Stay on the trail..." and not follow Ty on the rock climbing short cut routes.

Yeah we sat and ate our honey sandwiches and decided there was no better peak on this hike, not today. No view could be more impressive or suspenseful than the one we had already witnessed. And on top of all that, we had every reason to believe that getting stuck on the trail after dark was a terrible idea, because when you have a real brush with death, the impossible seems probable, and the grim reaper had already come just a little too close.

Now if you would have told me this is the story I would be telling you when I left for this unsuspecting hike, I probably would have laughed in your face, I would have said it was impossible. But here we are, and who would have thought I'd start writing again, all because of a jar of peanut butter. 

 

Disclaimer: Story Based on true events, names have been altered to protect the innocent. All except #KODAtheadventuredog. Follow me on Instagram: @rdmoney or connect with me on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/rachelle.denaro

Not my story...

This story is not mine to tell, so I will not say one word. I want to share the things it has made me realize about myself though.

I spoke with a friend from Australia today, one who knows me well enough to know that I have a lot to say all of the time. My stories are lengthy, this is not a new find. However in serious situations, I am one of very few words. It is what it is, and discussing in circles is a complete waste of time.

He recognized the severity of the situation because there was nothing to say back, no joking, no laughter, just acknowledgment of a terrible occurrence. It was a bite size story but I appreciate his ear for those short six words. I'm grateful he allowed me to say them and that he listened intently. Sometimes six words is all you need, this time six words was enough. And for that I need to say thank you, because its nice to have a friend across the world with whom I can share a story that isn't mine to tell.

I'm not one to get shaken and I do not dwell. I don't let situations take my attitude, because really in life that is all we can control. I find easy solutions and I make myself believe them. I convince myself to move forward and swallow any emotions that might get stirred. I don't lay down to be walked over, but I figured out today, that I don't fight either, instead I turn, leave, and don't ever look back.  After discovery of this inherent truth, I have to ask myself if I believe that this is an admirable quality, and at this point in time, I just don't know the answer.

One thing I do know is that over the last three years my life has been a bit unstable. I learned to walk away and I do it very well. I figured out how to be happy, and how to ignore the things I can not change. I learned to be unattached. I always expect my expectations to be completely wrong. In several ways it has made me a hell of a lot stronger. It's taught me to focus and to be independent.  In these types of situations though, it has chilled me to the core. I can feel it.  I had to teach myself to be the way I am today, but I can say with intense conviction that these behaviors have become habit. I'm just not sure if I will ever be one to commit, not after my life and definitely not after today.

saying goodbye

Travelling is exciting. Being out on your own, seeing new places, meeting new people, tasting new flavors, hearing new accents and languages, if you couldn't tell there is a pattern here, travelling is "out with the old and in with the new." That's why it is so attractive, that's why we love it, that's why we make sacrafices and do it.

I wouldn't lie, I was ready to step on that plane on July 9th. I knew I wouldn't miss Australia, my time there had come to an end, and I was going out with a bang. It was meant to be because for the first time ever by a very slim and unlikely chance, I got upgraded to business class.

Let's pause and view why this was such a significant event in my life. Well as you probably already know I am six feet tall or one hundred and eighty-four centimeters (however you want to look at it) so flying coach is, to put it nicely, absolute agony. I sit cramped, figiting, re-adjusting, and restless on every plane seat that has the daunting "Economy" label. I'm not afraid to fly, but I often hate it because of the lack of room issue. I almost always exit the plane with a tweaked neck and sore tailbone. So flying isn't scary, its just insanely uncomfortable.

Business Class is luxery. "May I bring you a moist towlette Ms. Denaro?" a moist towelette, seriously? Yes please!! As if I could ever afford to fly business class, (one day after I become a famous writer...I'm very good at dreaming.) but being upgraded doesn't cost a thing. The odds of that actually happening are slim. The chance you get upgraded on a sixteen hour international flight are one in a million, and the only quote that comes to mind, "so your saying there's a chance!!" I was confused when they called my name to print me a new boarding pass, I was shocked to find out that I would not be sitting in coach on this particular day. No, on July 9, 2010 I flew the 7,500 miles from Brisbane, Australia to Los Angeles, California in complete comfort. I was saying goodbye Australia in Business Class style.

I was ready to leave. I wasn't going to miss it, but here I sit three weeks later, unsure if July 9th will really be my final australian goodbye. If I am honest, I miss Australian accents, I miss their attitude, I miss the quarkiness down under, and I really miss my friends. Only three weeks later Australia feels a million years away. The only thing that time warps me back is this funny program known as Skype. All the sudden I can hear and see everything that goes on in my former country of residence and I long to be there, to smell it, to taste it, to feel it. On July 9th I was sure I would not go back, at least not for a long while, on July 29th I'm not so sure how that will actually pan out.

The next year of my life is basically planned out, go to France and get paid to play water polo, awesome and exciting life. I know better than anyone the length of one year. When everything is new, a year feels both extremely long, and unfathomably short all at the same time. At the end of the year though, when I left the lovable country down under I convinced myself that I was ready to leave for good. Bon Voyage Australia, I'm off on a new adventure. Three weeks after my concrete goodbye, I'm looking back and wondering what significant event will bring me back there again...

Writing my life away...

I have a theory that people who talk a lot make the very best book writers. If I dug up every single report card, from each teacher I had in elementary school, they would all have one thing in common, and it had nothing to do with my grades. No, the noticeably similar attribute on each academic report would sit there looming in the citizenship column, “Hard worker, but talks excessively,” or “Talking interferes with progress,” or “Very talkative.” In school, talking was always a negative thing. So when I got older, I was self conscious about my habit, but did that minimize my gab? Apparently not. In college, I was nicknamed motor mouth and people often commented on my voice volume. By the time I was finished, I had accepted my talkativeness as a stubborn quality that was never going to change, I don’t think it was something that I quite loved about myself though, it just was kind of the way it was. While travelling, people continued to make comments about the amount of words that would spill out of my mouth, but something changed. In countries outside of the United States, people blamed my trait on being American; I refused to accept that as the truth. In fact, when I was told that I was talkative because I was American, I would defend my mannerism as a unique quality. I decided that having a lot to say was a gift to be cherished; the characteristic that everyone viewed as “the worst feature a person could possibly have,” was going to be the very thing that made me great.


In Australia, I wrote an entire book in one month. It hasn’t been published or edited, but I still wrote a book in thirty days. So at 25 years old, I have written a book, and whether or not it ever makes a single dollar, that’s already a huge accomplishment. Even though I grew up being the most talkative person I had ever encountered, I’m quite positive that there are many others in the world who could gab up a storm, so being talkative becomes nothing special. But if you took every individual who told long winded stories and asked how they made that attribute work for them, I don’t think many could answer, “I wrote a book by the time I was 25, and by the time I turn 26 I plan to have three done.” Please notice that I am not promising greatness, there is absolutely no guarantee that any person on the face of this planet will read one of my books, let alone pay money to buy it. But I wouldn’t let that stop me from writing them in a million years.

I’d say I’ve lived an unplanned life, sometimes it’s messy, and others it is exciting. I can declare with the deepest conviction though, that I am grateful for the way my life has turned out so far and I am interested to see where it goes from here. I know I want to write, so while I get to work on my second book, I’ll write all sorts of other nonsense here.