Escape to Beaver Mountain

Hi there, what’s been happening?

I didn’t realize it had been so long since my last blog post. After school ended I just went into non-think mode. In case you were following along at home I got a “B” in my Philosophy class. Taking my long held 4.0 down to 3.8. I’m okay with this, because at least I tried. That big ol’ Queen of philosophy, David Hume would be proud. If he felt I existed which I don’t according to him, but I digress. So did my 4.0.

Hey! Did you hear that fellow blogger and all around funny person Patrick came to visit me? I can’t really remember when Patrick and I started chatting. I think we first started to bond (as all good girlfriends do) over a weight-loss program for the iPhone, Lose-it. It was that or my constant blogging about Puma running shoes. 

For the record, my love of running shoes is not a fetish, I just like running shoes the way Viktor likes Louis Vuitton. Long story short, we started texting. Thus began one continuous conversation since... Apple released that iPhone 4 with the non-functional antenna.

Patrick uses his iPad to locate Beaver Mountain
on our hike in Rocky Mountain National Park

The strange part was finally meeting a close friend, one who you share everything with, face to face. The strange part was that it wasn’t strange. He summoned me to his boutique hotel, and I walked in to his room as if we have hung out a countless number of times. The conversation flowed.  A funny and warm conversation that only comes from friends that have truly bonded. A conversation that didn’t end until we had to say good bye. Then we just started texting again. 

The weekend went so well we decided to plan another get-together. Well... to buy $1,300 gym bags together anyway. 

Camp

Now that the late Rocky Mountain snow has turned to rain. My thoughts turn to the summer and my favorite activity, gay camping. It’s gay, because it’s fabulous. 

This time of year I begin to look forward to some weekend get-aways up in the mountains. Quick weekend camping trips, with a tent, a fire, and all my cool camping technology. Gay camping is, for me, about the propane cylinders and electric ignition on the camp stove, the lanterns with the fragile asbestos mantles, and all those bendy fiberglass poles for the tent. I believe I enjoy the folding camp chairs with the extra large cup holders just as much as the rugged, pine forest and rock cliff encrusted scenery. 

You haven’t camped until you do it with a gay who truly enjoys his 15 piece, blue speckled enamelware cook set. It’s like All-Clad, for an open fire. This year I’ll be enjoying my new matching enamelware coffee percolator. 

I can’t wait for the first chance to get out and truly rough it. Lying under the stars late at night, listening to the campfire slowly burn out. The feel of the sleeping bag and 700 thread count camping sheets loosely wrapped around my naked body. Completely back to nature. 





Check out my Tumblr page for my camping themed photos at ntssb.tumblr.com

http://ntssb.tumblr.com

One Week Until I Stomp out my Exams

One paper done. One last paper to write before my exams next Monday. I feel like this....

DFTBA

I spotted this on a drive down 6th Avenue in Denver.

http://dftba.com
http://www.youtube.com/user/vlogbrothers?feature=watch

Breakfast Time

I rarely get to eat breakfast, even if it's one of my favorite things to do in life. I completely enjoyed myself this morning, before heading out for a stress filled day.

Flash-back Fairy

In an attempt to find a photo for Flashback Thursday, I started to look for a picture of me at the 1993 March on Washington to mark the twentieth anniversary. I did not find any photographic proof to my participation in  the March on Washington as of yet.  I did; however, stumble upon this....

Okay.... ask me no questions... I do remember being very comfortable in those boots. 

The I-45

I decided to get a cold this week. Yesterday was spent in a NyQuil induced haze. This is probably why I had a dream last night I was eating breakfast at Lucky's Cafe, in Dallas. Nothing strange or dreamlike, just sitting in a window seat eating. It was awesome. I had the I-45. I always dream of chicken-fried-chicken when I'm sick.