Oh man, the fact that I'm just now getting around to writing about my adventure last Friday is enough to indicate how busy I've been.
I went rock climbing. Climbing up a rock. Like, physically going up a wall of rock. Ohhhh yeah.
I was pretty excited because I love a good adventure and I'm willing to try most anything once. My co-worker Carla, her husband Matt, and brother-in-law Josh were all there and it was intense (not unlike camping). We hiked up to the top of the rock and figured out the ropes, both figuratively and literally. The idea was to rappel down and then climb back up. Since they're all seasoned pros, they were asking me stuff like, "So are you afraid of heights?" Followed, of course, by nervous laughter and "Um, not too afraid, I guess." In reality I was thinking, You want me to go down that? With just a rope and a harness? Whoa, let's not get ahead of ourselves. The cars down there are practically the size of the plastic cars from The Game of Life. I haven't passed the marriage space or bought a log cabin or cured the common cold or had twins yet! What about the twins?! I believe Joey from Full House summed it up best when he said, "Cut. It. Out!"
But I'm no quitter, so down the cliff I went. There was a minor freak-out of WHERE DO I PUT MY FEET, but I bravely overcame. Consensus: Rappelling rocks. (Pun.) Once you get the rhythm down, it's so much fun. I imagine it looked something like this:
Then came the real challenge--getting back to the top. Carla let me borrow her shoes. Très kind! I only made it about halfway up and stayed there hugging the cliff in a manner that church leaders tell us young Mormon kids to never, ever do to the opposite sex. But for my first attempt at rock climbing, I felt extremely good about myself.
Also, I learned tons of new jargon. Did you know that "leading" is when you climb up and attach your rope to the bolts as you go? Because people need to make scaling large slabs of rock even more dangerous.
But wait! There's more! The best part of the evening was when we decorated paper maché heads of one another, à la Michael Scott in the Halloween episode of The Office. (Pictures shamelessly taken from Carla.)
Honest, I do not look this fake-baked EVER. We ran out of white, so there was improvisation involved.
In case you can't tell, Josh's eyes have glitter in them. I thought it was a nice touch. He also looked more like a Muppet than I intended.
The pre-maché materials. Rather genius, don't you think?
As they say in the rock business, "Once you go slack, you never go back!" Or maybe I just made that up. Whatever. It was a blast and I'm determined to make it to the top at some point in my life. Young Gretchen would have never tried climbing and rappelling, but Fancy New Gretchen is all over that stuff.
Dim lights, soft music, sweaty palms, heart beating madly...
This would be a much better story if that was describing, say, a date I just got back from, but sadly it's not.
This is a tale of why I don't exercise.
It was a perfectly lovely Saturday, one of those late summer days where you manage to do plenty, and yet, nothing at all. I did some internet window shopping and took the time to do an extra-good job of shaving my legs. There was a fabulous book signing and homemade pancakes for dinner. I also started watching this little tv show called Wonderfalls. I'm only three episodes in, but it’s good. Bryan Fuller (the creator) is also the genius behind Pushing Daisies and I would be willing to do anything he asked me to do if he promises to keep making great television. Especially if he happened to need me for a make-out scene with Lee Pace. Go ahead. Ogle. I’ll wait.
Yum. But back to the story…my parents got home from a drive around 8:30. Who goes on drives with gas prices the way they are in Utah? We have the highest average in the nation, which is gross.
Then this occurred.
Dad: Are you planning on doing anything besides watching five hours of tv?
(I wasn’t.)
Me: Of course I am. Gosh!
(I sounded disturbingly like Napoleon Dynamite at that moment.)
Dad: If you say so...
(At which point I’m pretty sure he went upstairs to watch tv.)
After the episode wrapped up, I stretched and sighed. Grabbing my iPod and phone, I hollered up to the folks that I was going for a walk. So…I walked. Over to the high school, because I thought I’d check out the track. See, I’ve had these grand plans in my mind for a long time that I will eventually go running on a regular basis. This is hard for me because I’m a lousy runner, but I realize that I need to exercise more, especially if I’m going to be at a desk for forty hours a week. I’m sooooo not a morning person, so that’s really not an option. Getting back in shape would be a definite bonus. I figure it could also be a good way to blow off the steam of a) working all day and b) living at home.
It took me a semester or two to adjust to living on my own. However, once I went home during that first break from school, I positively couldn’t wait to get back. Apartment life suited me well. Now here I am, living at home for who knows how long. There are many perks, like a stocked pantry, air conditioning, and a laundry room that doesn’t cost $2 a load to use. At this exact moment, though, I’m missing my wireless internet, the cupboard of Pringles and kettle corn, and the ability to do whatever I darn well please on the weekends.
I made it down to the stadium in ten minutes, only to find it under super-tight security. The football field was re-done and I guess it’s still under construction, something like 18 months later. You can build movie theaters in that time, so you’d think it would be finished by now. The fact of the matter is that the new field won’t make our football team any better, so it’s all a tad Sisyphean.
With the prospect of running on the track ruled out, I began to consider other possibilities. (There aren’t many.) I walked around the side of the high school and right by the doors to the G Hall there’s this guy kneeling. Definitely not a high schooler and it looked like he was wearing all camo or something. It probably wasn’t a big deal, but it was dark and late and unusual. I freaked out, because not only am a young female with shapely legs, but I read something like one hundred murder mystery books when I was in middle school. As a result, I’m very paranoid and also suffer from the delusion that if I do find a dead body, there will be a complicated trail leading to a showdown with the murderer. Ostensibly, the handsome sheriff will arrive at the last minute and save me. (I also ALWAYS wonder if there will be a dead body in the shower before I get in.)
I quickened my pace, turned down my music, and took an unwise detour down the darker part of the street. I made it back safely, but on the walk home, I realized something. What if I’m not ready to live on my own yet? If anything had happened, how would I have defended myself or who would I have called? If I do ever get to fulfill my dream of living in New York City, I have to be better prepared (and probably a better runner). A person can’t let the inconsequential things freak them out, but one must be cautious. I have some growing to do yet.
I guess even though it’s been an adjustment for my whole family to have me at home, it’s nice to have a dependable roof over my head. Besides, there are people who love me here and pancakes for dinner on a Saturday night.
In honor of middle name day, I thought I'd share a short story about mine. When I was thirteen, we were having a family New Year's party and my asthma was all out of whack because of our new kitten. I went to the garage to mope and get away from the party and there was no evil cat hair in the garage. Plus, I was thirteen, so mopiness came with the package. At one point in the night, my Uncle Tom came in to check on me and informed me that at this age my middle initial stood for Angst, and not Alice. It did not make me feel better, but looking back he was entirely correct.
Fun fact 0ff the top of my head: Hermione's middle name is Jane and Ron's is Bilius.
