Over the weekend, I got to hike up onto the top of this rock, also known as Deer's Leap Overlook, in the lovely hills of Vermont. I've got a thing for climbing onto rocks and watching the world from on high. A good time was had by all. And "all" consisted of me and my ever-lovin'-Kristie, who is a wing-nut from the word go, but always a good time to run amok in nature with. So, half way down the mountain, I managed to slide off a rock that I thought my foot was squarely planted on. And then there were three distinct echoing pops. And next thing I knew I was on my tuckus writhing and wincing in pain with alternately escaping through my clenched teeth, "Owie owie owie" and "fuckety fuck fuck fuck". Kristie, in a feat of great heroics, managed to get me to my feet and saw me the rest of the way down the mountain and then she kept me drunk for the rest of the weekend as I elevated and iced my sprained knee. None too pleased about how much my body is betraying me. At least I got a nice hike out of the deal before the wheels came off the bus.
