"It's a long hike. No one does it sober."

I didn’t realize how saturated my life is with drug and alcohol references. This title is from my all-time favorite roommate, Suzi. She had a lot more when she was in her drugs and modern society class last semester. Even powdered sugar wasn’t safe from her ever-watchful and drug-tuned eye. Que te propones hacer con ese cochillo?

One of my current roommates planned a night hike on Timp for last night to celebrate her master’s program graduation. I was pumped to go until the reality of starting at 9 pm and having the goal of being done walking at 6 am hit me. I was tired last night. Plus, I’d heard that you can make the round trip in 8 hours, so one of two things would happen on this hike: one, the pace would be maddeningly slow and I would fall asleep walking and fall of the mountain and die; or two, we’d get up there in good time and have to hang around at the frigid (I assume) summit and wait for the sun to rise. Then we would come off the mountain by sliding down the glacier on the other side. That sounded cool. Until I heard that there are exposed rocks and like hazards on it at this time of year. And then I started thinking, Timp is a pretty big mountain. That would make for a slide down from it a pretty intense cruise. Even without the rocks. I conquered roller coasters and even made an adrenaline-powered place for them in my heart, but the sound of this plan held the ominous ring of foolhardiness. Plus, my legs were starting to rebel from the stairs. Like they were a bit sore or something. (Oh, but it was so worth it. Even figuring in the 16 year old who was stalking me because he thought I was 15. Kid broke my pack. Then he told me I was really short. So I shot him. With a laser, of course. Don't get the wrong idea.)

So I stayed behind to take my druggie former roommate to Café Rio for her birthday. We got back in time to see the hiking party off. My current roommate took Bob the turtle with her, safely packaged in a sandwich bag. (He’s not a real turtle. No animals were harmed.)

Since that roommate was gone all night, we got to turn on the A/C: as I was hanging the last of my pictures, I heard the air conditioner rattle and boom to life. My room-roommate, Erin, came bounding into the room with a bright and mischievous grin.
“I turned the air down to 72!” she exclaimed.
“Yeeeeah!”

So for one night, we reveled in cool luxury. 72 degrees. That’s 14 degrees below our other roommate’s preference. That’s no way to live. That’s a way to die. Uncomfortably.

(I reference death too much. Another Suzi quote: “Oh, no, I made another reference to death! I’ve been hanging out with Cassie too much.” I should look into changing that.)

So I don’t have a sunrise from Timp picture…just a good night’s sleep and a picture of my new and exciting room. Look and love.


Mmmm. 70s era wood paneling and whitewashed cinderblock.

I would also have a picture of my beautiful Riverside, but, alas...the bookstore only had two used copies. What! I've waited my whole life to buy my own copy and I am not spending $60 on somebody's used goods. I will not have marked pages and damaged cover edges. I ordered from Amazon. I will take the picture when it comes. Unfortunately, it's not as pretty as the first edition that my dad has.


OH! Happy September!!!!!