Whatever. We had beer in a cooler. It was all good.
We ended up parking illegally (after dusk) at an area called Picnic Rock, which was the first one up the Poudre Canyon and I desperately screamed "How about this one?", as I was in the back seat and I feared that I would projectile vomit onto the back of Brock's head because I get horribly carsick in the backseat of cars in canyons. My instability ended up working out well for all of us because Picnic Rock had a fire ring and it was the perfect place to drink a beer, listen to the river and star gaze.
We started the evening with a 90's style senior portrait-esq photoshoot, but our attention was quickly drawn to my husband and his fire making capabilities.
|The "Back 2 Back". |
I love it that we both have crazy eyes.
|Me Man. Me Make Fire.|
Me Proud White Man.
My friend's husband brilliantly whipped out his smart phone and allowed the screen to light our path. We made about 678 trips back to the truck, including a very special one, where my friend's husband stepped back against an poorly placed log and fell like a tall pine in the forest. He hit the ground hard, like a 200 pound sack of flour, and I immediately panicked and ran to see if he was okay. All the while, Brock stood paralyzed by his man-fire. Did I mention that said friend's husband just had back surgery two months ago? There was a moment of sheer terror for his safety, but once I realized that he was okay my other persona took over.
I pointed at him and laughed.
I laughed hard.
I can't help it, when people trip and fall, I laugh uncontrollably.
I'm a horrible person.
It started as giggling, then tears welled up in my eyes and I was shaking with that silent laughter... then I guffawed and there is a really good chance that I was snorting by the time it was done.
I'm going to hell.
Could I be a worse human? Apparently yes... because I then, through my tears of glee, I promised him that I wouldn't tell his wife. She was at the truck when he fell and she didn't know it happened. Earlier in the evening he was giving her a hard time about her telling people that he falls all the time and he had insisted that he doesn't.
I felt sorry for him and said, "I won't say a word! Scout's Honor."
Problem is, just like Brock, I was never a scout.
I lasted about 10 whole minutes in the truck on the way home when I mentally relived the moment where this man hit the ground and the giggling erupted again. I leaned over and said through my laughter "he fell...*giggle*... while you were loading your chair...*guffaw* .... he just stepped back and went down hard...*BAHA!*"
She laughed and smacked my leg and said, "SEE??? I told you!!"
...and then she said, "He is like ~TIMMMBEEEEEER!"
And then I flashed back to my mental image of his 6'2" body going back straight as a tree and hitting the ground so solidly and that was exactly it, and being the delicate flower that I am, I snorted for sure that time.
Then I realized that I am not equipped to ever work with the elderly, I am not a woman of my word and I should not consume so many corn products in one evening.
Here is the dip recipe:
Don't Fall on yer Arse Dip
2 avocados- diced
2 tomatoes- chopped
1/4 cup salsa
1 can corn, drained (I used frozen)
1 can black beans, drained and rinsed
1/4 cup diced onion
1/8 cup cilantro- chopped
juice of half a lime
pinch of sea salt
Gently mix, serve chilled with corn chips and beer.
I'm still bloated and I deserve it.
And to my girl friend's husband: I'm sorry that your wife selected me, a total asshole, to hang out with . And I'm sorry to be such a disappointment. Let's get together again soon! I had a really great time. Thanks for the CD's. You are awesome.
Peace, Love, and for the love of Pete watch your step around me,