And so we hiked.
We passed a couple of people I knew, their dogs and my dog sniffed butts and did their thang. The trail was overgrown and thick once we got out of the trees, and so I rang my bear bell and belted out that horrible old song, I don't even remember the name but parts of it go: "Hey has anybody seen my, sweet Gypsy Rose....now she has rings on her fingers, and bells on her toes."
Such a crappy song had to keep the bears away, right?
On the way back, as I sang my silly song and rounded a curve, I came upon the large, pale shape of a woman's behind floating up from the brush and staring me smack in the face.
Well, I never!
It was the older woman with trekking poles I had passed earlier.
So I, you know, cleared my throat and yelled I was turning away until she was done.
"Okay,dear, " she said cheerfully.
The dog trotted over to investigate, hee, hee.
Was it awful that I had the most compelling urge to turn and take a picture? There was something aesthetic about her ass floating up from the brush, pale and large and round, the blue waters of the bay framed behind it. I could enter the shot in a photography show: "Bay, Ass and Brush, #1." Bet I'd place at least honorable mention (not!).
I refrained, though as soon as she finished and moved away, I snapped a picture, just 'cause I could.
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| The Beebster sniffing out the evidence, hee, hee. |
What's up today: 19 miles of pure running enjoyment
Am I ready? No
Why not? Don't tell anyone, but I kinda made brownies last night and scarfed down half the batch myself. My head is buzzing from the sugar, which I'm not supposed to eat (oops!) My body is saying: Couch potato--please?
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