One year away from my Cascades and I'm twitching...ah well, I'll see them soon enough! Figures I miss the record-breaking rain month, though. I am actually disappointed at not having the chance to slog through the Burke muck on my bike. I sort of like the mud-splattered calves look.
Hey, a football game once made me homesick for Utah, which was just wrong, and left me with no choice but to steal the enjoyment of everyone around me.
I'm not going to make the high-altitude joke. I'm not going to make the high-altitude joke. I'm not going to make the high-altitude joke. I'm not going to make the high-altitude joke. I'm not going to make the high-altitude joke. I'm not going to make the high-altitude joke. I'm not going to make the high-altitude joke. I'm not going to make the high-altitude joke. I'm not going to make the high-altitude joke. I'm not going to make the high-altitude joke.
When I went to BYU as a new convert from the East in the fall of 1966, I couldn't get over the feeling of some unidentified "presence". It felt like someone was watching me, looking over my shoulder, following me. I finally realized it was the mountains.
6 comments:
Try spending 5 years, 3 months, 11 days, and 21 hours in the mid-west. I could not believe how much I missed the mountains!!!
Loyalist said...
Atleast you have mount Ranier. I'm in the friggn desert where there laughable mole hills are called mountains.
btw, Brokeback was film in BC/Alberta Canada where they have gorgeous mountains. oh, how i wish to see them again.
ps. good luck with the rain :-) the gills should start to grow soon.
One year away from my Cascades and I'm twitching...ah well, I'll see them soon enough! Figures I miss the record-breaking rain month, though. I am actually disappointed at not having the chance to slog through the Burke muck on my bike. I sort of like the mud-splattered calves look.
Hey, a football game once made me homesick for Utah, which was just wrong, and left me with no choice but to steal the enjoyment of everyone around me.
I'm not going to make the high-altitude joke. I'm not going to make the high-altitude joke. I'm not going to make the high-altitude joke. I'm not going to make the high-altitude joke. I'm not going to make the high-altitude joke. I'm not going to make the high-altitude joke. I'm not going to make the high-altitude joke. I'm not going to make the high-altitude joke. I'm not going to make the high-altitude joke. I'm not going to make the high-altitude joke.
I'm not going to make the high-altitude joke.
When I went to BYU as a new convert from the East in the fall of 1966, I couldn't get over the feeling of some unidentified "presence". It felt like someone was watching me, looking over my shoulder, following me. I finally realized it was the mountains.
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