Not a Dress Rehearsal

It started out simply enough; a pilgrimage down below to Lee's shoppe. My daughter and Sabina were going to get their noses pierced and I have a design for a tattoo, the first in nine years; since my Eyes of the Buddha, whereupon I learned, no matter how good of friends you are with a tattoo artist, do not mention that you fucked his mother the night before.

But that's another story...

We don't make plans. After all, if you want to make the mythological concept of deity laugh, then have a plan. The Tao of Chaos. This is why it wasn't so offensive that my daughter had to cut out before we even left for the shoppe and the possibility of clients with appointments kept me from getting inked. Mei fei tsu. Sabina still got pierced, and my daughter and I have a date in the near future with an ink-slinger of my acquaintance. Body modification and reconnecting with an old, old friend; what could be better?

After a few errands in a place that was hot and noisy and crowded and smelly we ran for the hills. Our route took us through one of the canyons. On a lark, Sabina sent a message to one of our adventuring buddies that we were in the area. After a quick repast of trail mix, venison jerky, and bison summer sausage, we were off for a quick walkabout to a memorizing waterfall before a proper supper.

So what Sabina and I had only our sandals on and no proper trekking gear with us? It was something to do. Life gets a little boring if you don't occasionally go what the fuck?

A mantra of Sabina's is taken from the gospel of Calvin and Hobbs; The Days are just Packed! Our day certainly was. As I sit back in the afterglow of those spontaneous adventures, I think to a toast our neighbor has given over whiskey or rum and sometimes vodka, occasionally all in the same night of storytelling;

"This is life, not practice..."   

Amen and women to that...