From the lack of my post touting absolute victory, I’m sure you can surmise that I did not succeed in my weekend goals. I had many other successes, including a brief belief I was going to be captured and eaten by hillbillies when I got lost on my trail run. The success there is that this did not happen and the hillbillies had to eat someone else that night.
Hillbillies have reminded me of hobos. Probably because they both start with an “h” and are both tragically misunderstood. And also probably because I’m always looking for an excuse to talk about hobos. For my 23rd birthday I had a pillow and potato party. Potatoes to eat, pillows to sit on (I only had 2 chairs, but I had more than 2 friends…at that time). So, there we were, all sitting on our pillows, sipping wine, and basking in that warm sleepiness of carb afterglow when someone brings up my love of hobos. Suddenly everyone is in the conversation, and I find myself on the defensive.
FLASHBACK
