Memorial Day Weekend

So, I think last time I said I was going to be better about writing in this. I forgot.

So memorial day weekend began Saturday. We had a bunch of friends out and, I can't speak for anyone else, but I had a fantastic time. Mike, whom we haven't seen in months, brought karaoke. Like big speakers, for real karaoke. Late in the afternoon, I managed to twist my ankle. How? Let me tell you, revealing just how foolish I am. I jumped from a 15 foot ledge into four feet of water. Sometimes one hears the question, "If all your friends were jumping off a cliff, would you do it too?". Well, that answer is, "Yes".

*Action shot of the event.

With a little too little sleep, I awoke Sunday morning and hobbled to wear I had thrown my brace. It took some time, gasping, and grunting to get that thing over my swollen ankle, but I triumphed and headed off to work. I haven't been off my feet much since, and surprisingly, it's worked. I may have walked off a sprained ankle.

All this is fine and good, but what I really want to talk about is today. After saying goodbye to 2K before his two-week Korean adventure [you can guess which side], Cat and I met some friends [including my former Physical Geography teacher] in San Marcos, where we rented a 2 person kayak and a 3 person canoe. This trip was an overall victory and we enjoyed our success, but it came with grave failures. We realized quickly that canoes are incredibly difficult to maneuver and easy to tip. After bumping into a good number of tubers, we realized that CaNOes can just suck it. After four miles, the San Marcos meets the Blanco river. The beauty of this area is incredible. I could go into detail about the roots of the Cypress trees and the grumpy green heron; however, I am tired.

At County Rd 101, thee hell that is Don's Fish Camp began. The people all looked the same, the battling stereos were too loud, they were all LITTERING!, they were taking up SO much space, and their comments were incredibly rude. Luckily, I was in the kayak for this section, so when coming upon a big pack of tubers, Cat and I sped past. During one of these personal races, a guy shouted, "Bitches, slow your role." I was already perturbed, but this sent my blood boiling. I couldn't go crazy because we were moving so quickly, but I did some hollering. I bet he treats his mother like garbage too.

I only saw one snake and it was a couple inches from my hand. I also found huge disappointment in the sogginess of the pizza I had packed for lunch, which I thought was going to be the greatest idea of all time.

After taking the first turn of some rapids well, I cheered, "We like professionals!" We immediately tumped over. Yeah, sponsors are banging at the door. Our flip lost a one gal's shoe, while her husband simultaneously lost his wedding ring. We couldn't feel more terrible, but we were surrounded by Don's "fish", so we had to abandon the search for the needle in the haystack.

At some point today, I was stung on the face by a yellow jacket. As I was holding my forehead and repeatedly stomping on the mean creature against the bottom of the canoe, we went through some low-hanging branches. The leaves lashed at my face, the twigs caught in my hair, and then a thick Ent arm thudded against my head. In this moment of fury, I slammed down my oar and announced, "Now, I am not having fun!" The stinger was pinched out and the moment passed, but I frantically kicked at myself when another later landed on my leg.

After seven hours and twelve miles of rowing, mostly upstream, we finally finished our trip from Sewell Park, in San Marcos, to 1979, in Martindale: Home of Cottonseed Cafe and some other things. Yeeehaw!

Bed time.