Quest for Ice Cream

(I need to begin this post with an apology to both z and the boy. Because I totally do this to them. And now at least I know where I get it from.)

On Saturday evening, I was heading out the door to meet a high school friend for coffee when my dad stopped me.

"Where are you going again?"

"To Starbucks to meet Kristen, dad. I'll probably be gone about an hour/hour and a half or so."

"Oh. Okay. You want to pick up some ice cream on your way home?"

"Sure. I can do that. What do you want?"

"Do you want ice cream?"

"No thanks."

"Oh, well, then don't worry about it."

I changed my tune. "Sure dad. I would love some ice cream. There is nothing on this earth that I would like more."

He laughed and said, "Forget about it."

"No seriously. I'll pick it up no problem. What do you want? A strawberry blizzard?"

"No. I don't like strawberry."

"Right, right. That's mom. You like peanut butter cup."

"Don't worry about it. Really."

"Oh maybe I'll just pick you up a pint of Ben and Jerry's?" I mused.

My dad immediately perked up and responded, "Do they have pistachio?"

"Pistachio? I'm not sure, but I can look."

"Nah. Don't worry about it."

"Fine."

Now, I don't know if I've ever mentioned how difficult it is to do nice things or buy gifts for my father. He's pretty self sufficient, and when you ask what he wants, you never get a good answer. (When he was working it was always "a new tie" - the man had over 100 ties - and now it's always "a bottle of Beefeater." - there is no shortage of alcohol at my parents house.) My dad is usually all, "Oh, don't worry about me. I'm fine." But this conversation? It was a chink in the armor of self sufficiency. My dad wanted pistachio ice cream. He wanted something. That I could provide! It was now my mission in life to bring home some pistachio ice cream.

I came to find out that this was easier said than done.

I started off by meeting my friend at Starbucks and then hitting four stores on my way home. The first was the grocery store that I had visited earlier that day. Where I struck out. But not after spending about 15 minutes in the surprisingly small ice cream section pouring over every different container. Still, I left optimistic. There were two other grocery stores within five minutes. Surely one of them would have it.

The second place where I stopped closed at 9:00pm. It was 9:10pm when I got there. I was dumbfounded. Seriously? The store closes at 9:00pm on a Saturday? Um, okay. Small(ish) town, I guess.

I tried an ice cream shoppe next. They make their own ice cream, so I was hopeful that maybe they had specialty flavors that no one else carried. Vanilla Bean, they carry. Chocolate, they carry. Pistachio - negative. So much for exotic flavors. However, after three strikes, I decided to ask if anyone knew of anywhere that I COULD find pistachio ice cream. I was directed to the Baskin Robbins on the east side of town. Sweet! That was on the far side of town, but if worse came to worst, at least I had a confirmed supply. I mean, assuming the high school kids behind the counter of a small-town ice cream shoppe were right. Grasping for hope, I chose not to doubt them.

On my way home, I stopped at the final grocery store. They were locking their doors as I arrived, so I just squeezed in under the wire. No pistachio, but they did have spumoni. I vaguely remembered that my father also liked spumoni, and perhaps the green layer in the spumoni was pistachio? (it isn't.) Regardless, I decided not to go home empty handed and bought the spumoni ice cream before heading back to my parent's house.

..where my father verified that the green layer is NOT pistachio, but still shared the ice cream with my mother so I wouldn't feel like a failure. Didn't work.

That night, while out with friends, I was recounting my quest and subsequent failure. I asked if anyone knew where to get pistachio ice cream? I was rewarded with independent verification that Baskin Robbins did indeed carry what I sought. Of course, they were closed by then (well past midnight) but I started plotting as to when I could get some ice cream the next day after church but before I drove the three hours home.

When we left the bar, my friend Jackie suggested that we drive past Baskin Robbins just to make sure. We did, and sure enough, "Pistachio-Almond" ice cream was on the menu. I was giddy. Super-giddy. This is what I blame on why I agreed when Jackie made the following suggestion, "Do you want to just go check Wal-Mart before we head home? It might save you a trip tomorrow."

It was 2:00am. I was tired. The thought of getting up for church was exhausting enough, not to mention the subsequent three-hour drive home. Saving me a trip sounded like bliss. Besides, I figured it was a long shot. I was certain that Wal-Mart wouldn't carry what I needed. No one else in town did. There's no way Wal-Mart would. Psh, Wal-Mart. Like they have anything good on their shelves.

Guess what Jackie found at Wal-Mart?

What a pickle. Seriously. I was torn. Spend money at Wal-Mart? The hated Wal-Mart? A store I wouldn't set foot in even when I couldn't afford real hand soap? The root of all evil? I mean, I sometimes act soulless and unethical, but to actually give my money to a soulless and unethical business??

But... the only pistachio ice cream I had seen in the entire town. (sob.)

I'm a daddy's girl. We all know how this story ends. Tears were shed and tantrums were thrown, but in the end I sold my soul for a pint of pistachio ice cream. I even had to use my damn credit card so there's proof! I feel dirty. Oh so dirty.

Still, the look on my dad's face when he found it the next morning? Priceless.

Not that I was there to see it, mind you. The man gets up at 7:30am. I didn't move until at least ten. But, you know, I can imagine.

And lo, there were movies

Last week the boy and I went to visit my family in California.

We had a ball.

It was the perfect mix of watching movies and chilling out and doing touristy things. Perfect. Absolutely.

A while ago I blogged that my basic nature is to be selfish, and it was only a childhood trauma that makes me go against that nature. Now? I'm not so sure. I spent almost six full days with my cousin who is one of the most selfless, giving, kind-hearted people I've ever met. I'm pretty sure she would give her left arm to someone she loved with no questions asked - and they wouldn't even need a good reason to need it. I know I'm not that giving, but if that's her basic nature, maybe it runs in the family? Hopefully? At least it gives me something to aim for.

Her husband? Well, he kept insinuating that I wouldn't like him. But anyone who will patiently answer my endless litany of questions about comic book superheroes and never once insinuate that I'm an idiot...well, he gets thumbs up from me. (I have now learned that Marvel comics = good. DC Comics = not as good. And the Hulk? He's sort of good AND bad. And Superman kind of sucks. Who says you can't teach an old dog new tricks?)

There are several aspects of this vacation that I want to cover, so I'll take it in pieces. The first one is movies. Seeing as how the boy and I are on a tightly controlled budget (ie: "No Money") we haven't been to the movie theater in ages, and we haven't purchased a DVD since lord-knows-when, so we arrived in California starving for new movies in a way that we didn't even know we were starving. When we arrived at my cousin's place, it was like heaven. They are total movie buffs and owned every movie we wanted to see, plus some we didn't know we wanted to see (yet.) Needless to say, we watched some movies. (Bless my family for sitting through movies they had already seen and through my endless questions about "What happens next?" or "Does he die?!")

Some highlights? (NOTE: If you haven't seen the movies noted, there are some minor spoilers. Don't blame me if you want to see these old movies that are already available on DVD, haven't gotten around to it, and yet choose to continue reading.)

The Incredible Hulk with Ed Norton was good. I would rate it as an "I'm glad I watched it, but probably won't own it." I will say, however, that it has one of the best fight scenes I've ever seen. Ever. Seriously. I know you might have the impression that I'm a girly girl (can't imagine why you would think that...) but I do love me some things that are definitely in the "boy" range. A fight scene where Hulk fights Abomination and pulls out his arm bone and stabs him with it would fall into that category. One might say I was impressed with that scene. Perhaps enough to continue talking about it all weekend long. Seriously. He pulls out Abomination's arm bone and then STABS HIM WITH IT. It was so cool.

Taken was another good one. It's relatively new, so I won't spoil anything. I'll just say, as my cousin so succintly put it, "You don't fuck with a Jedi master." I'll put this one on the "I'm glad I watched it and I might own it someday" list. However, it's all about the suspense, and that's one thing that I can't handle. At all. Kudos to my family for not duct taping my mouth shut.

Iron Man was fantastic. Absolutely fantastic. I'll put that on my "Must own SOON" list. I seriously can't say enough about it. It's 126 minutes long but felt like it was no longer than an hour. It FLEW by. Flew. I recommend you go see it now if you haven't. Right now. Go on. This blog can wait. I'm not even going to spoil it for you except to say that the creepy guy is the bad guy. You know, the one who's always the bad guy? (and even when he's not, he's still creepy.)

Which brings me to Watchmen. This one is on my "Wish I could get those hours of my life back" list. But my mom once told me that if I can't say something nice, then I shouldn't say anything at all. So I won't say anything at all. Except maybe to say that it might have been over my head, because I just didn't get it. Oh, and there's a bright blue penis that's pretty distracting in some scenes. Consider yourself warned.

There were other movies also, but I would hate for you to think that we spent the entire 6 days sitting on the couch. Because that would be wrong. Sometimes I sat on the floor :-)

Seriously, we did other things too, and I'll get to those (with pictures) as soon as I can find the motivation. As alluded to previously, we saw redwoods. And we took pictures. Lots and lots of pictures. I'll share soon.

You spent a day where?!

On Saturday, a subset of the book club that I'm in decided to take a day trip to Bloomington Indiana which is the home of Indiana University, where the boy's parents live, and roughly 90 minutes south of Indianapolis. I believe the main draw of the trip was Oliver Winery, but in addition to that it became a trip of Greek food, wine tasting, antique shopping, wine tasting, goose avoidance and adult bookstore perusing capped off with chocolate cake.

Did I mention that there was wine? Basically that's all that the invitation had to say.

"Emily, we're going someplace with wine."

"Done. I'll drive."

Nicole* planned the entire thing from start to finish. A fellow blogger was included in the journey, and her take on the day is here.** I loved that the entire day was decided and I only had to be told where to drive. The food was excellent. Downtown Bloomington was an eye opening experience for me. (I expected something more like my hometown. I suppose I should have expected more from a progressive college town.) Still, it was a pleasant surprise to wander through independent shops and the beautiful architecture. The winery was also a pleasant surprise. Had it not been so beastly hot, I'm sure we would have spent more time sitting down by the water on the landscaped grounds. I also heard that you can take your own picnic lunch, buy a bottle of wine and eat outdoors - an idea I found ideal until I was reminded that there are wasps outside. Especially outside where there are pretty flowers and bottles of wine.

Nicole drove us through IU's campus which I had heard was gorgeous. And even though I was seeing the campus through wine-colored glasses, my impression was that it lived up to its reputation. Of course, instead of taking pictures of the pretty campus, I was taking pictures like this one. Oh, and Nicole became the third person EVER to drive Curvy - a fact I was surprisingly okay with. That wine stuff is powerful.

But gooooooooood.

After we left the winery, we had some time to kill before dinner. Now, I'm not so much an antique shopper, but, as mentioned, Nicole cleverly planned that portion of the day AFTER the wine tasting. Turns out, I really didn't it mind so much. In fact, post-wine antique shopping yields pictures like this one. (I would like to note here that I normally am violently opposed to wearing fur. Did I mention there was a wine tasting? Turns out you were allowed to sample between 6 - 8 wines. Guess how many I sampled.) Two of the girls came away with some cute jewelry and I found out that I hadn't had quite enough wine to buy an $85 mink stole. I'm sure that those Visa people are relieved.***

Overall the day was fun-filled and there was a lot of laughter. I keep forgetting how little time I spend with girlfriends anymore. I think I'd like to go back and spend a day solely in downtown Bloomington. But then again, I seem to remember the wine tasting being pretty fun on its own...

Note #1: All beautiful artsy pictures were taken by Nicole whose talent knows no bounds. All other pictures were taken with a point and shoot that Nicole was foolhardy enough to put into my hands while I was drinking wine. I then felt free to pass it around as I deemed necessary.

Note#2: There were five of us on the trip. I would include a group picture, but it turns out that the Witness Protection Program can place people anywhere so it's better to be safe than sorry.

*I would link to her, but perhaps she would like to keep her anonymity?****

**This blogger was the reason behind the adult bookstore perusing... a fact that I did not see in her blog. It occurs to me that it may be embarrassing to her that I'm pointing this out, but I'm an equal opportunity embarrass-er. Stick around long enough and you'll be on here too.

***And I'm sure Candy would have stopped me. Right?!

****I have learned that some people like to be anonymous and go to great lengths to keep said anonymity. Such as wearing sunglasses in adult bookstores. I don't have the heart to tell them that magic sunglasses don't work.

Silly Girl

Author's Note: I wasn't going to blog about this. Because it's about travel and I have approximately 15 people that I need to go visit and must fly to see, but cash to only take about one of those trips. But please know that if it were up to me, I would visit each and every one of you. Seriously. If IUPUI weren't currently sucking up all extra cash, I would TOTALLY be there for a weekend.

I'll be honest. I use credit cards for their rewards. So when I decided to take a trip for my 30th birthday, I opened a credit card that would give me reward miles to make the airline costs more manageable nonexistent. And I succeeded. (go me!) And to be honest, I didn't look at that credit card again.

But in January, I received a voucher for a companion flight. I read the fine print, and it seemed the companion could fly free with me to anywhere in the contiguous US. Which seemed fortunate because there's this boy, and there's this family that he has yet to meet.*

So I finally pin the boy down on dates, I confirm that they're good with the fam, and I decide to do some online research so I don't book these tickets completely blind. What I found is:

1) Bad: The airline that so thoughtfully gave me a free ticket for my 30th birthday (heretofore known as EvilAir) is significantly higher priced than other airlines that I could also use to get to my family.

2) Good: I have some remaining airline miles!! I can use them to take $150 off the cost of my ticket!

3) Meh: I'm only 20 miles away from being able to take $200 off the cost of the ticket.

So I decide that since it's easy to spend approximately $40 on a new outfit gas, I'll go ahead and use the charge card to get the miles, and THEN purchase my ticket. (I know, right? My logic makes no sense. Even to me and I live here.)

First I must find the credit card. Then I must dust it off. $200 here I come!! Yes, well, there's this expiration date on the card. And it has passed. And Emily didn't notice because she doesn't use the card. Silly girl.

So she calls to get a new card and finds out that it will be a week. Mmmmmkay. So Emily will forgo the extra $50 and just get the tickets anyway. After all, who knows if the price will go up, and my usual MO of waiting until the last minute for cheap flights doesn't seem as smart when there are two people traveling (one of whom will use a companion flight voucher.)

And so I call to book the tickets, only to find out that I must put the tickets on my airline credit card.

Boo hockey.

As I am about to hang up, I decide to use this opportunity as a fact finding mission to find out whether or not the companion flight is everything that it seems to be.

Oh it is. No blackout dates, companion has the exact same itinerary as the other passenger. No standby! Sweet.

And then there's this passing mention of how the other ticket - MY ticket - must be paid full price. I backup to clarify. But, I have airline miles! Lots and lots of airline miles!! I can't use them?

I'm sorry, no. You must pay full price for your ticket in order to use the companion flight. (silly girl)

But!

no.

But but!!

no.

Damn.

Now, the cost of my ticket on EvilAir is still cheaper than two tickets on the other airline that I could take (and be much happier,) so I can't just abandon the plan. But I can sit here and seethe about it for a week until I get my new credit card. After all, it's not that I'm cheap per se. It's just that it hurts me to pay more for something that I know I can be getting for less. Sigh.

But, on the bright side, I also have a week to think scheme and think of alternative plans to save money. Ideas anyone?

*There are also redwoods. We must not understimate the importance that the redwoods have had on getting this boy to actually agree to travel that must be done by air.

It's good for me

So, Friday is Indianapolis Ride Your Bike To Work Day. It occurred to me on Monday that my excuse of class after work had expired, and I needed to get back on my bike. Of course, by Wednesday when the sky was overcast and threatened to open up at any time, I remembered why I vastly prefer driving my car.

Still, since I'm at the tail end of a tank of gas, now seems as good a time as any to renew my adventure from last year. And when I saw a flyer for Ride Your Bike to Work Day, I mentioned it to my boss. Actually, "badgered him until he agreed that it was a good thing to do" would be more accurate. (We are not super environmentally friendly here, and I always do my best to make little changes. My boss is not at all excited about this one.)

And then, of course, I promptly forgot about it. Until today. When my boss said, "I sure hope the weather holds for us to ride our bikes tomorrow."

Hmmm??

Oh yes. Riding my bike to work. Right...right. I totally didn't forget about that. I am all over it.

"I expect you here at 8:00am sharp, Emily."

Damn.

Missing you (since you've been gone)

The boy is off on a two day backpacking/hiking trip with a mutual friend (whom I shall dub 'Curly.') A mutual friend who (as his wife pointed out) shares a surprising number of traits with the boy. As such, I'm sure they're currently reveling in their unshowered, damp, two day hiking had-to-carry-all-supplies-on-their-back manliness. And as much as I miss the boy, I am not at all disappointed that I didn't go wasn't invited.

Not one little bit.

See, when the boy and I met, I was 100% honest with him. Every word I said to him in that first conversation has stood the test of time.* One of the things that I mentioned was that I "love to do things outdoors, but I'm not so much a camper." To which the boy responded, "Really? I love to camp."

Then I went and did this madness. All of a sudden, the boy figured that perhaps the door to camping had been opened a crack.

It hasn't. Truly.

When the boy and I started hanging out with Curly and his wife (who is a super cool awesome person, btw) the boys began discussing the possibility of a camping trip for the four of us. Uh oh. The more we hung out, the more the idea appealed to them. My response was, "Sure! If you guys plan the trip, I am SO THERE!" Since Curly's wife is no more looking forward to the camping than I am (and immediately grasped the implications of having the boys plan the trip) she agreed.

Did I mention that Curly and the boy are very similar? Nothing has been planned. It's been a couple of years now. I felt pretty safe.

Then Curly had to go and propose a two day hiking extravaganza. And, much to my surprise, it actually happened.**

In the days leading up to this hiking trip, the boy was very very excited. As he gathered up everything he would need (and didn't already have,) he made a list.

Food
Sleeping bag
Emily's Camera
Water Filter
Poop Shovel

I'm sorry, what?

Yeah - apparently a poop shovel was needed. You know, so that a hole can be dug to poop in, and the poop can then be buried.

I'm sorry, what?

The boy was about to explain to me again, when I interrupted to tell him that I completely understood, and that there was no way I was ever (EVER) going to do that. I mean, I know that I've backpacked. And I've camped. And that I was traumatized by having to poop in a glorified hole in the ground while doing so.*** But I didn't actually have to dig the hole!

The boy showed a rare flash of emotion and got a bit upset. "Well, you know this means that we can never go on a backpacking trip together!"

"FINE BY ME!"

After all, I think that if you got a girl who previously thought "roughing it" was Motel 6 to agree to camping, it falls under "compromise." Trying to get her to agree to dig a hole in the ground and then defecate into it....well, that's just madness.

*Which is more than I can say for some people. Ahem. "I'm a morning person" indeed.

**And Curly and the boy are, like, friends now. Like, friends independent of the four of us. Which is weird. Because previously, Curly's wife and I were friends independent of the group, but the boys just came to dinner when they were told. And now they're all hanging out and camping and... DEAR GOD I'M GOING TO HAVE TO CAMP! Which I've actually made my peace with.**** Until the boy told me about the new tent he had purchased. The tent that is big enough for him, myself, and "our dogs." (cue the ominous music) I'm sorry, what? Not only do I have to camp, I have to camp with my nemesis? When did I sign on for this??

***Because sometimes people turn thirty. And sometimes when they turn thirty, they do crazy, insane, out of their mind things that they would never normally do. And sometimes those things are incredibly poorly thought out, but turn into once-in-a-lifetime breathtaking adventures. But they were still insanity. This should never, ever, be forgotten.

****Beer. There will be lots of beer. Enough beer so that the gigantic bugs disappear and are definitely not within a one mile radius of me.

Owie

I just had an interesting weekend. This is a change. Normally my weekends are filled with volunteering on Saturdays, studying, and....um.... trying to get my couch to have a permanent butt shaped indentation on the left cushion. I was in a miserable mood on Friday, and the outlook for the rest of the weekend was grim. Luckily, Candy came to the rescue.

I think that in every group, there's a planner. A motivator. Someone who gets the group moving. I'm usually that person. Except for when I'm busy. Or I don't feel like it. And then I don't plan anything and it's rare that I get to see my friends. (Yes, Craig. I'm looking at you.) Surprisingly, even though I love being the planner and the motivator, sometimes it's nice to have someone else take the reins. My mood was rotten enough this weekend that I probably should have stayed in and been grumpy to myself, and there was no way I was going to be able to plan something. But Candy and I saw a movie last week and had discussed taking a bike ride together on Saturday. We left the specifics up in the air...we would call each other around noon and decide what we were going to do... Honestly, had she decided that she didn't want to go and not called me, I probably would have shrugged it off and slept all day long. That's how grumpy I was.

But Candy is a planner and a motivator. When she called, I got my lazy butt up, got my bike into my car and headed over to her house. It turned out to be exactly what I needed and was the best decision I made all day.

Let me start at the beginning. When Candy did call me, the boy was over. We were in the middle of a very heated game of MarioKart*. When that ended, and I had firmed up plans to leave, it occurred to me that A) my bike probably had spiders all over it from being stored in the garage all winter and B) the tires were most definitely flat. The boy said that he could understand how I needed help with the spiders (see the progress we've made?) but that I'm a big girl and I could air up my own tires. I played the "I'm a girl" card until I realized he definitely would not help me, and then began trying to figure out what gas station I could stop at to put the air in the damned tires. The boy, realizing that I was going to do it without him and that I really didn't have any idea what I was doing, got exasperated and pestered me to ask Candy whether or not she had a bike pump. (He was muttering something about "popping the tires" and "never hearing the end of it.") He pestered me until I called Candy and found that she did, indeed, have a bike pump. The boy was satisfied that Candy and I could figure it out from there and left us to our own devices.

What he didn't know was that Candy had never used the pump without assistance. I was obviously not any help to her as the only advice I had received from the boy was "Make sure you hear a hissing sound before you pump." Um, I won't go into the details about putting air in the tires with a bike pump. I will only say that it probably took a lot longer than it should have taken, it involved tools that it probably shouldn't have involved, and I was genuinely laughing about 2 minutes into the whole experience. We did eventually figure it out, though, and put air in the tires of both bikes.** All that was left was deciding where to go.

I'll be honest. After seeing this post, I really didn't want to put Candy through what I imagined would be the trauma of relocating her bike in that manner. I wanted to leave from her house, but she lives farther north than I ever have, and I wasn't sure what was near to her. I seemed to remember her taking a rather lengthy bike ride recently. She reminded me of this. I asked her if she was willing to do that again, and she agreed. I'm not sure why, but she agreed.

I should probably take this opportunity to remind you that I'm the girl who just randomly decides to do silly things. Like one day deciding to run the Indianapolis Mini-Marathon when I had never run further than three miles before. Or one day giving up high fructose corn syrup for Lent when I love me some Coca Cola. We can now add, "decides to go on a 15 mile bike ride after not having ridden a bicycle in six months, and not having worked out in at least three." Sometimes I don't seem to have the gene that makes me think things through.

But the verdict? It was SO fun. I think most of the fun initially came for me because I didn't have to worry about a thing. I'm not as confident on my bicycle as I probably should be (that's a whole 'nother post) but Candy was pretty sure that I wasn't going to die. I had no idea where I was going, but I trusted Candy. I would have followed her into a brick wall, I think. I learned this when she initially pedaled through some grass to get to the bicycle path. Um, going back to the whole, "not too confident on her bike," thing, Emily generally likes to stay on concrete. But Candy made it, so I followed her and I didn't fall off, and I didn't die. It was a monumental achievement. We rode at a steady pace that allowed us to have a fun conversation, and she only scared the bejeezus out of me one time on the "roundabout of death." I actually stopped traffic on this roundabout, people. Like, cars that weigh thousands of pounds had to stop and let me on my bike go around the roundabout. Candy, being braver than I, had already gone and I hesitated just a bit too long. My plan was to let the cars go, and then follow Candy. Unfortunately, I was sort of already IN the roundabout. So the nice mom with her kids wouldn't go before me, even though I was stopped and I waved her on. So I had to go. Did I mention that we were making a left-hand turn? Which means I had to pedal 75% of the way around the roundabout? With a trail of three cars behind me? I was embarrassed as hell and fearing for my life all at once.

Luckily Handel's was really close and the deliciousness made the fear go away pretty quickly.***

Getting back on the bike after eating delicious ice cream was not fun. But I don't think the fun conversation ever ran out, so I was able to keep my mind off of the mounting pain in my rear end. The only obnoxious point of the entire ride came near the end when we were riding side by side on a rarely-trafficked country road (with a llama farm. It had a llama farm, people. This was not a major highway.) We were having a pleasant conversation when a honk almost made me pee my pants (scared little bicyclist that I am.) Shortly after the honk, what looked like a teenage girl and her boyfriend (brother?) sped around us and drove off. It was one of those times that I kind of wish I had something to throw at her. Or at least wish I was confident enough to take one hand off of the handlebars to flip her off. Alas, neither of those things happened.

We made it home without further incident, and that was the end of our adventure. At least, until Candy sent me a text that night asking if my legs hurt. They didn't, but I was drinking wine, so I probably wasn't a good person to be asking. I did know that my butt hurt, though. Even THROUGH the wine. When I got up to go to bed, it wasn't that my legs hurt, exactly, it was more that I didn't really want to be standing on them. The next day all the pain was gone. From my legs. My butt continues to hurt.**** Ouch. I think I need a new bicycle seat. Either that or a sign that can adequately communicate my feelings should someone honk at us next time.

*He won. Didn't help my mood any.
**There was never a hissing sound, btw.
***And probably gave me back all the calories I had burned and then some
****Which is a suprise considering all the padding I've got back there

A Family Affair

Where did I go? Well, this past weekend I went to California and married my cousin.

Not the sort of "married my cousin" that the less enlightened associate with the midwest (since we obviously live in the dark ages) but the sort where I got ordained on the internet (just call me Minister Emily) and conducted her marriage ceremony.

Behold minister Emily.



The never-been-married minister is obviously imparting a very important piece of marital advice.

The experience? It was awesome.

Oh I wasn't awesome. Not at all. I mean, between the shaking legs, and the fingers that couldn't even hold the rings steady when passing them off to my cousin and her new husband...sheesh...and don't even get me started on how lucky I was not to cry. Still, the ceremony was awesome. Some of the best weddings I've been to have been the ones where the couple is brave enough to tailor the ceremony to fit them like a glove (hello Vanessa and Gregg!!) Those ceremonies are always the most intimate and make every member of the audience feel like they know the couple well....even if you're only a close friend of the bride or the groom individually. This ceremony was like that. I'm pretty sure that if my cousin didn't get everything she wanted out of her wedding day, then 99% of her wishes came true. I was honored to be asked to conduct the ceremony and glad I could do my part - shaking legs and all.

Highlights? Well, my mother's camcorder refused to work for the duration of the ceremony, so unfortunately (fortunately?) there will be no footage on YouTube of the auspicious event. This was the first ceremony I've been to that began with a story that took place in a "galaxy far far away." The bride walked herself in and was struggling to contain her tears from the very beginning....as were her bridesmaids. The after party included Rock Band. And the cake? Um, it was made by one of my cousin's bridesmaids. From scratch. Even the cake topper. Wanna see?



Seriously. From scratch. The flowers? Made from scratch. Not plastic. The cupcakes? Made from scratch. Very cool, yes? In her own words, she "made some motherfucking cakes." :-)

Unfortunately, aside from giving me more ideas about how I want my (possible) future wedding to go, I have no new insights on marriage from this experience. I just know that I hope I'm as obviously filled with joy as my cousin was when she walked down the aisle.

The One Where I Screamed Like a Girl

Cockroaches. Cockroaches seriously scare me. Like immobilize me with fear. I dislike other creatures with more than 4 legs, but I can usually get over that long enough to do something to end the uncomfortable situation.* Even with the big hairy spiders.

But I startle easily. Open a door suddenly and I shriek. Tap me on the shoulder when I'm not expecting it and you'll get a full on scream. Say something vague like "Watch out" and I will duck, cover, and sound like I'm being eaten alive. (I do better with "Watch out for the spider web," or "Watch out for the big stick." Be specific people. I like to know my enemies.)

So I would like to clarify that when we were hiking on Sunday, and we came across this,
I did not scream out of fear, I screamed because I was startled. Startled. Some may have interpreted it as fear, but I assure you it was not. I was surprised.

And my unwillingness to approach the snake after it had been properly identified and we had taken many pictures....well... that was just common sense. After all, Casey didn't seem to care much about it, why should I?

What I found amazing about the whole experience were these things:

1) Stacey didn't notice the snake, and she seems to be much more frightened of them than I am. I would think her "snake radar" would be heightened when hiking in the woods. Much like my "spider radar" is on full blast in those situations.

2) Casey seriously didn't care about the snake. She saw it, sniffed it while passing, and continued on her way.

3) Upon seeing the snake, I halted mid-step and jumped backwards. I seriously immediately stopped all forward momentum and went in the opposite direction. I didn't even think such a thing was possible. I surely can't do it on the volleyball court - no matter how hard I try. Maybe I need snakes on the volleyball court?

I'm sure that eventually there will be more pictures from this group outing we took to Turkey Run State Park. Unfortunately, I didn't take a camera, and I haven't received many pictures from the others who did. (ahem.) Well, okay - I should clarify. I'm not all "photographer-y." I like pictures with people, so THAT'S what I'm waiting for. Stacey can post all the pretty pictures of scenery that she wants, and I'm not going to steal them :-)

It was going to be the crazy dog convention of the century, but alas, Cash was unable to attend. In his place we got to see Emma be SO HAPPY in the water, and then be SO UNHAPPY when taken out. The dogs all had a good time wearing themselves out, and there was one situation with Blue and some innertubes that I might tell you about later, but all in all I would say that Emma with her talking, her backpack, her love of the water, and her parents playing good cop/bad cop....well, she was the highlight. You should go pester her mom to post some pictures of our hike.

*"Something" includes calling the boy or the whole "live and let live" philosophy. I never said I always killed the things.

Hindsight is 20/20

So everyone needs some cheese on a random Friday, right? I found one of my favorite bloggers (Clink) earlier this year, and immediately sent a link to my friend Alisa. It was love at first blog. Since imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, we totally stole this idea and decided to do a joint post of our own...

(check out Alisa's here.)

Hola Chica!

You are eighteen years old! You just started having sex! You are on top of the world! You are about to start college in less than a month. You just started having sex!!

Let me start by saying how beautiful you are. You are not fat - shut up. You've always been beautiful. You never believe it (and during that "perm phase" maybe you had a point) but you should. I promise that eventually you will be comfortable in your own skin, but if you could start that process earlier (like now) then things will be MUCH easier down the road. Trust me.

I'm sorry to tell you - your mom is right. The university you chose is not quite the right fit for you. Don't worry - you make it work, and it actually helps you realize some things you never want to become. As a bonus, you'll escape with one or two good friends who are with you through thick and thin. I know that senior year is rough, and all you do is hate, but you did do well by choosing a liberal arts college. And a beautiful campus. And a good education. All in all, though - your mom was right. And here's the worst part - that's not the last time that's going to happen.

You are in loooooove right now. But of course you don't know it. Oh no. You think you're dating this kid who you really enjoy spending time with (not to mention having sex with) but that you're completely in control of the situation. Behold - you didn't even cry when you left him to go to college. I'm here to tell you that you're in love. You're deeply in love and the sooner you face that, the better off you are. But we'll get back to him later.

You make some missteps in college - everyone does. But good things happen too. You try to continue in colorguard (so not the same) and it takes a ridiculously long time to rid yourself of the marching band. They are persistent!! (Not to worry - by the time you're 30, that embarrassing band picture that includes you has rotated up to the top level of of the fieldhouse, and should be gone soon.) You'll meet one of your best friends over a shared love of steak night. You'll join a sorority (I know, right? Trust me, thirty-year-old Emily can't believe it either) because of this same good friend (who will then leave you high and dry in said sorority) but you'll find it in your heart to forgive her. You'll meet some great women in the sorority and you'll have some great times, though you'll eventually come away thinking that under no circumstances should that many women ever live under one roof. I would tell you to stay strong and not join, but I think that in the end, enough good came out of it that you're not entirely embarrassed to admit that indeed you are a Pi Beta Phi.

Of the women you meet your freshman year, the most persistent friend will surprise you. She will make many of the choices you don't know that you will envy later (except for that boyfriend thing. You called that one from the very beginning.) She'll end up sharing a lot of good times with you. Don't forget about her when your paths randomly separate. They will always reconnect, and you could do better about calling her every once in a while.

You're at the same university as one of your best male friends ever. He is so in love with you. You cherish him, but you'll never love him that way - though lord knows you'll try. I really really really wish I could convince you that you're meant for each other, but I know you're not, and surprisingly, you knew that too. You should trust your instincts more. You guys are still good friends, and you still cherish him. And even though he caused you all sorts of pain by telling you he chose to study abroad to get away from you, in doing so he actually introduces you to the idea of study abroad.

You go, and it is awesome. More awesome than you can possibly imagine. Truly a life changing experience.

You'll return ready to be done with rules and college and wanting to GET ON WITH YOUR LIFE ALREADY. Chill out, sister. You'll get there. And when you do, you'll wonder why you were in such a rush. Smell the roses a little more. (And could you stay away from the comfort food in the midst of all that angst? Seriously. That stuff is KILLER to work off later.)

I can use no word other than "blessed" to describe how lucky you are to stumble into your first job after college. Not for the career aspect. Nope. Even though you're 22 and you think you know it all, you're not ready for that yet. It's for the social aspect. You'll make some great and lasting friends from this job. You have no idea how much their support will mean to you. With your college and high school friends scattered to all ends of the earth, this tight social network makes your life in Indianapolis so much more fun and rewarding and you're so lucky for that.

Remember that boy you were SO in love with after high school? Yeah, well, you'll see him again. Run! Run like a scared rabbit!

Of course you don't. You're "meant to be," right? Well, I'm here to tell you that he's going to break your heart into a million pieces. This boy is going to bring you to your knees. You - who doesn't bend for anyone. I know it's hard to believe, but trust me. (Can I please please please convince you not to take him back that last time? Seriously. There's only so much you can do, Emily. Why sign up for more pain? AND DON'T GIVE HIM BACK THE RING!!! ARGH. If it helps, that last time is when he's going to be dating his future wife behind your back. Please please please stay strong!! Okay fine. You're still going to do anything for that jerk. Can I at least convince you to punch him in the nose that last time you see him? I promise you that you won't regret it, but you WILL regret not punching him.)

Um, I know you don't think you need it, but can you work on not carrying grudges? Maybe if you start now, fifty-year-old Emily has a chance to be good at forgiveness. :-)

So - shattered heart. That's the bad news. The good news is that you pick yourself up again, and you do a damned good job of it. I'm not gonna lie - it sucks and it takes a loooooooong time (and a LOOOOOOOOT of MarioKart,) but you get by with a little help from your friends (and those MarioKart skillz come in handy later on :-) When you do it (though you make some mistakes - kudos to realizing you're on a destructive path and stopping it all by yourself) you remake yourself into who you know you are, and promise to never compromise her again. See, that steel core was there all along - it just needed some reinforcing.

Along the way you meet some men, you realize that you are beautiful(ish), and you start what I consider your "real" life. No more waiting for Mr. Assface. (Um, did I mention that you may have some residual anger from this high school boyfriend? More reason to punch him when you can. Preferably before the engagement is called off. That ring could have done some damage. Sigh.) You start to grow into you and surround yourself with things that make you happy.

And while we're at this point, you know your best friend ever? That girl that is so totally going to be your maid of honor some day? The one who wears the "Be Fri" necklace to your "St Ends?" Yeah, not so much on that. You should walk away now. She lets you down when you need her most and it will break your friendship irreparably. You sever the friendship and you never look back. The ease with which you drop that relationship makes you realize that it wasn't all that great to begin with, even though you probably can't imagine life without her now.

While you're living your life, you find yourself, you eventually fall in love again, and you fill your time with many different activities that range from soccer to tutoring adults who are learning to read. Some activities stick around longer than others :-) Even though your friends think you're insane for having such a crazy schedule, it actually helps you out! While wandering aimlessly, you actually stumble into something that you love and want to dedicate your life to. I'll bet you didn't even know you had this much passion about a career, did you? Well, you do, and you find it at a point where you're strong enough to defend your decisions (unpopular as they may be) and stick to them.

How does that turn out? Well, I'm not sure. I guess we'll both have to wait to find out.

Remember to be bold and courageous. You'll always regret the things you didn't do more than the ones you did. Even now, I have remarkably few regrets, so you'll do good. Even though it seems like sometimes you can't do anything right, you have love and support from so many people that you can't ever really fall far. Make sure to thank them and tell them that you love them as often as you can.

I know how you'll turn out, but I'll wish you luck anyway. (And enter one more plea to punch Mr. Assface. No? Pretty please?)

Do Good,
Old Emily

Wow, am I not smart.

So, I rode my bike to work yesterday. I was going to post a triumphant post in the morning when I was filled with a sense of accomplishment and pride....but something told me to wait.

It's a good thing I did. Around 2:30pm, the LAST thing I wanted to do was ride that damn bike home. The bike was suddenly the bane of my existance. I started scheming find a way (any way) to get home that didn't involve my leg power. Pride won out (can't let my friends be right!!) and I rode my bike home. It actually gave me MORE energy when I got home to walk the dogs... That lasted until bedtime when I crashed (HARD) and actually had the best night sleep since I moved into the new place.

Then today, it what may be the dumbest move in Emily history, I went and rode the bike to work again. For the second day in a row. When I was already exhausted yesterday after my bike riding experience. Seriously. How dumb am I?

I mean, it's definitely saving me money - I don't go out for lunch, I'm not using gas... I'm reducing my carbon footprint... But it's only 8:45am and I'm already hating that stupid bike. Any suggestions on an alternative means to get home?? (But then that pride thing kicks in... why oh why do I put myself in these situations?) Stupid bike. Stupid Emily. Stupid idea.

PS. I will post pictures of my ride to and from work soon. There are so many things I need to discuss - not the least of which are these big blue obstacles that serve no purpose, and the monster hill from hell.

Adventures in the Apartment Complex

So, this post is a brief intermission between tales of moving. I have plenty of before and after pictures of painting to show you, but I took my computer apart and it won't be back until Sunday at the earliest, so you'll just have to wait on those.

BTW, how can no one have told me how much painting sucks? Seriously? I mean, here I was thinking it would be fun. Um, no. There was no fun. It was sucky. I agree with bsj and if anyone knows a boy that I can marry who enjoys painting, and a job I can get where I travel a lot, I'm in. Painting = suck. Especially the taping. Sample conversation:

"[Insert Boy's name here], why am I taping? It's my new place...how come I don't get to do the fun painting?"
"Because taping is the bitch work, and you're the bitch."
"Point taken."

I did eventually get to paint (and it wasn't fun painting)...and then I found out that I'm really really bad at it. Either that or the boy is just really really good at it. (It does have direct relation to his job...) I don't know if it was just the patience thing...or the fact that the color I used was darker... Whatever. My kitchen (that I painted) was super streaky and my bedroom (that he painted) looked perfect. We had to go back for a second coat in the kitchen to cover my mistakes. My kitchen is now YELLOW! (or GOLDENROD if you want to be really specific.) Whatever. My accent wall kicks ass. You'll see...

This morning when I was walking the dogs, we came across this:

It's not a great picture, but I would say the sucker was about a foot and a half to two feet across at his widest. Seeing as how my only experience with a turtle was a box turtle that I "rescued" from my backyard and took into science class in the eighth grade (and named "Louis" by the way. "Louis the Turtle" to be exact) and given the fact that this turtle bared little to no resemblance to Louis, and in fact had a large tail that was alarmingly similar to an alligator tail, I figured this was not a turtle to mess with.

Since the turtle was just chilling in my apartment complex, a good quarter mile from the nearest pond, I originally thought he was just a lawn decoration. Casey pranced up to the turtle with an "Oh, hello weird other living organism" expression. When the turtle hissed at her, I regained my senses and pulled her away from it. I then rushed home, took a picture on my cell phone (excuse the crappiness of the picture) and called the boy to ask what the heck sort of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle I had stumbled across.

Imagine my dismay to find out that it is a very ordinary snapping turtle. (Well, a very ordinary snapping turtle that could have taken Casey's nose off had I not removed her from striking distance.) Alas, all my dreams of having a new species of turtle named after Casey have been shattered. (I still think that alligator tail is freaky. You should have seen it in real life.) The boy went on and on (and on and on) about what he would have done with the turtle (put it on our enclosed porch) so that he could "rescue" it and return it to the nearest pond after work. Whatever. I wasn't picking up that thing. When my cat hisses at Casey, she gets scratched. When geese hiss at me, they charge me and are MEAN. I wasn't about to see what this mutant turtle did after hissing. No sir. I like having 10 fingers.

I have since decided that the mutant turtle will be called "Bob" and that we can just hope that Bob is still around when the boy and I get home. After all, think about how much fun the post will be when the boy attempts to move Bob and suffers Bob's wrath? I'll be right there taking pictures for you all...(when I'm not saving the bitten off piece of finger on ice so that the doctors in the ER can sew it back on.) We can only dream...

More Inca Trail

So I found this cool link. Check it out. He has pictures and (more importantly) uses names of places and stuff...you know, the stuff I was too exhausted to remember. :-)

Movie Time

I took this short video BEFORE we got to Machu Picchu. The idea was that I wanted to be able to show the boyfriend what I was seeing. I should have taken a second one IN Machu Picchu, but by the time I thought of it, Rindee had confiscated my camera and forbidden me from taking any further pictures.
It's not as sunny as I would like, and some guy got into my film at the end...but you get the idea, right?

Peru Part V - Machu Picchu

On the morning of the fourth (and last) day of hiking, we began our day by being awakened at 4:00 am. I wish I were kidding. The reason for this is that trail to Machu Picchu opens at 5:30 am. The idea is to be one of the first groups in line to get going on the trail. Why? Because we want to hit Intipunku (the sun gate) before the sun rises.

Let me explain a bit here. The sun gate is not actually the sun rising. The sun gate is the spot in the mountain across from Machu Picchu that the sun first rises over, and thus when the first rays of the sun's light hit Machu Picchu in the morning. So it's not tecnhically the sun rise, but it is the first sunlight that hits the ancient city. Apparently, if you're there on time (and the weather cooperates) it's a beautiful sight to see.

We were not there on time.

Surprise!

And we were booking it, too. I mean, the trail from our camp to Intipunku had one really really (really) steep portion, but otherwise it was moderate ascent with a little bit of descent thrown in to keep you on your toes. I was practically running...at minimum I was at a fast trot. Rindee actually couldn't keep up with me. I think our guide was surprised. He kept saying that we didn't need to hurry, but I really wanted to see the sun hit Machu Picchu. I'm not sure it would have mattered if I had gone faster, though. The clouds were still pretty thick when we arrived at the sun gate. For example, the first picture below was taken at 7:35 am. The second picture was taken at 7:40 am, and the third picture was taken at 7:41 am.

The clouds moved unbelievably fast. We were actually relieved that we got to see the city at all. (Oh yes, that's actually Machu Picchu that we're attempting to take a picture of. It was our first glimpse of our goal.)

Some (sane) people choose to arrive at Machu Picchu early in the morning, and make their way to the sun gate from the city. This doesn't involve camping, just an overnight stay at a hotel in Aguascalientes, a bus ride to Machu Picchu, and a 45 minute hike up to the sun gate.

I'm not judging. :-)

Thus, as we headed down to Machu Picchu, we kept passing all these people in nice clean clothing with hair that had been washed in the last four days. They smelled like lotions and softener and perfumes. I couldn't believe it. I kept saying to Rindee, "They smell so good! And their clothes are so clean!!" Yeah, I think it would be accurate to say that by day four, I was good and ready to get back to civilization.

Before you actually enter the city, there's a point where taking pictures of Machu Picchu is excellent. We stopped here for a while for photos and discussion of the city we were about to see, and it was at this point that we began to be hopeful that the weather gods would be kind to us on our last day. The first picture below was taken about 10 minutes before the second.
Okay, I'll shut up now and post a bunch of pictures. First a little background, though. The last time I was in Machu Picchu, I was 16 years old. I had a point and shoot plastic Kodak 35mm camera. I didn't realize what I was walking into, and I ended up running out of film. I spent the rest of the time walking around the ruins and just absorbing the energy that comes from the mountains. It's ridiculous how powerful that place is. Not to get too "new agey" on you, but you can almost feel it humming. When I was walking around as a teenager, I would get as far away from groups of people as possible and just sit with my eyes closed and relax. But I never really forgot how frustrated I was that I ran out of film and couldn't capture everything I wanted to show my friends back home. (However, when I got my pictures developed, they came back with a personal note from the developer commenting on what beautiful shots they were. The site is really THAT gorgeous. Pictures don't even do it justice.)

This time, I didn't make the same mistake and took about 100 pictures of Machu Picchu. I'm not very good at editing, so I'm just going to stick a bunch of them up here for you to see. I'll try to put a description of what I was taking a picture of, but otherwise, I'll just let them speak for themselves. They are roughly in chronological order, so you can see how the light brightens as the sun came out (slowly but surely.)
The photo above is of an area that used to be a moat. It was another form of protection for the city. The picture below is the same moat looking upwards.






At about this point, I became fascinated with pictures of Machu Picchu through doors, or windows...any stone structure really. You'll see a few of these.









Blue Skies!!!
Ahhh...This is Intipunku from Machu Picchu. It's that little dip in the ridge of the mountain. See it? That's where the first rays of light would hit Machu Picchu each morning. There are actually temples set up in Machu Picchu so that on the summer solstice, that first rays of sunlight will shine through a window to perfectly hit a spot on the ground that will make a sacred shape. No kidding.






A word about the photo below. This was a guard house, and the highest point in Machu Picchu. When I was 16, I remember running (RUNNING) up to this hut in a race with my cousin (who was 36 at the time - whole new respect for the cousin...) From that high vantage point, he took a picture of me with the ruins behind me that won a photo contest at Butler University. Even though Rindee and I were exhausted, I cajoled her into heading up to that point with me to recreate that picture 14 years later. We didn't run.
Once we got up to that vantage point, we were able to take the following pictures.

And while I can't show you the picture that Rindee took of me to recreate the photo of sixteen year old Emily (because I look like a horrible version of thirty year old Emily in it) I can show you this one of the two of us triumphant at the top.

Immediately following this picture, we sat and enjoyed the view (and the warmth of the sun) for a while, and then headed down to meet with our guide to officially end our tour. We had two choices - take the bus down to the town of Aguascalientes, or hike down. Rindee was for the bus. I believe my exact words were, "Come on - we're so close! We started hiking, let's finish hiking!"

The town was five miles away. I don't think Rindee will ever forgive me.

Peru Part IV - The end is in sight

First, one more picture from day two. Here's the entire group at dinner the second night. This picture couldn't be taken at lunch because A) Rindee and I arrived a good 90 minutes after everyone else, and B) Rindee chose to sleep instead of eat lunch. I basically went to lunch and sat comatose while picking at chicken. Yeah. We were tired.

A quick note about camping. I was as comfortable as possible with my sleeping pad and down sleeping bag. The bag had a hood type thing that you could tighten with a drawstring and pretty much wrap your entire body in the blanket - which is exactly what I did on the second night. Being up that high is COLD. I would never have made it if the guide hadn't suggested filling a water bottle with hot water and putting it in the sleeping bag with me. Genius. It may have been the coldest night, and I may have looked like an inchworm, but MAN did I sleep well :-)

For day three, I'll just let the pictures speak for themselves (with a little help from Emily commentary of course.) Please note that there are MANY more pictures from day three. This is due to the fact that A) we slept more than we had at any other point since our adventure began, and B) we didn't have to carry our packs. Even though the weather on day three was the worst out of all three days, we took more pictures to document our trek. The weather changed this day from drizzly to flat out rainy and since we were at a higher elevation than we had yet been, it was cold. When we stopped for lunch, we were damp from the wind and rain, and even though we were in our food tent we had ceased all exertion, so it was actually bone-chillingly cold. We listened to the rain pour down outside the tent and were torn: stay in and try to stay dry, or to out in the rain where at least we're warm from the hiking. Luckily, day three was mostly descent, and we went down into the "tropical jungle" portion of our hike. The rain did eventually taper off into drizzles and then nothing at all.

The morning of day three, our guide "let" (read: strongly suggested) Rindee and I leave about 5-10 minutes early so that we could have a head start. After our 90 minute late arrival the day before, I can't say I blame him. We made pretty good time without our packs. After about 15 minutes, I asked Rindee to take this picture of the campsite we had left behind.
Our first stop was Runkurakay. Unfortunately, when we arrived it began to rain so we pulled out the ponchos. I have no pics from the ruins for you. Sorry. You'll have to make do with the pic of the ugly chick next to the sign for the ruins. At least I can prove we were there somehow. (Hey - it was early. Early morning + hiking does not = flattering pictures.) I would like to point out that we arrived at the ruins in the middle of the pack this time - not last as usual. Go us!
As we continued on our hike, the rain cleared a bit, and we got the following pictures, one of the trail we were traveling and the other two of the view when we could see it.


This next picture was taken when we stopped for lunch. As I mentioned, it was FREEZING. I took this picture of one of our fellow hikers because it perfectly summed up how we were all feeling.
After we had all eaten lunch and waited for as long as we could, we continued out into the rain. Along the trail, we came to this Inca cave. It was only about 20 meters long, but it was pretty cool nonetheless. This is actually one of my favorite pictures from our trip - not only for the cave, but because the way Rindee and I look perfectly sums up the day.
Then Rindee wanted an action shot - I think she was trying to show the drop off on one side of the trail. The stones (that were actually laid by the Incas by the way) were actually pretty slick...and I think she had a fear of falling off the edge...

As soon as we could see the next set of ruins, we paused for another photo op. We couldn't quite get the ruins in the pic, so we settled for the view instead. (This photo also serves as proof that without our packs, Rindee and I kept up with the group pretty well :-) (Random note: this was actually one of the many points on the hike where I actually said, "My boyfriend is a genius!" The hat that I'm wearing was soaked from the day before, and did not dry in the cold overnight. However, since it's wool it was still just as warm as ever. I didn't even care that I looked like "cancer-patient Emily" in these pictures. I was warm, and that's all that mattered. Genius!)
The following two pictures were of some ruins (Wiñay Wayna which actually means "Forever Young.") that were about 30 minutes from our campsite. Had the clouds pulled back a bit, we would have actually gone into the ruins. As it was, the views were obscured, so we just took pictures from afar. The first picture is the first time we could see the ruins on the trail, and the second is when we were much (MUCH) closer.

From the same point where I got the closer picture of Wiñay Wayna, I rotated about 45 degrees and wanted to get a picture of the mountain and the river. We could actually hear the river from where we were. I couldn't believe that. Man it was LOUD!
From there it was just a quick 30 minute hike to our campsite for the night. Since it was the last night, we took a bunch of pictures like:
Rindee and I in our tent.
The entire group at our campsite before dinner:
Our dinner spread on the third night. They served us restaurant quality food each and every night. Amazing since all they had to use they carried on their backs the entire way.
And finally, our porters. A word about them... They were responsible for carrying the necessities for our campsite. This included all the food, the tents (both the meal tent and our individual tents,) and all of their personal belongings. (On the third day, they carried the personal belongings of Rindee and myself as well :-) They carried an average of 50 pounds on their back - per porter! Additionally, they were the last ones to leave the campsite (as they tore everything down for travel) and the first ones at the NEXT campsite so everything was set up when we arrived. It was truly remarkable what they did. As we were hiking, people behind us would shout "Porter!" and everyone would draw to one side to allow the porters to run (RUN!) past. Man.

Okay - this weekend I'll finish up the last post about Machu Picchu. If you think I had a lot of pictures from day three....you ain't seen nothin' yet.