The Valley and The Dolls

Every instance of sheer genius is followed soon after by a moment of complete idiocy.  I believe this is by design to keep up humble, and always planted with our feet firmly in reality.  Perhaps I should say these are the moments that make up my life.  One moment I need to wear a helmet and lick a window, the next, “Why yes, I do believe I deserve the Noble Prize.”  Now, before everyone gets hot and bothered regarding the helmet wearing, window licking comment…let us remember I am not always politically correct.  Nor do I think any less of those with actual handicaps.  In fact, I am actually quite in awe of them.  In every moment of their lives they face adversity to “normal” situations and find a way of dealing with them.   I have all parts working most of the time, and end up often wanting to curl up in a ball and hide from the world.  That being said, everyone deals with something even if it isn’t obvious.  So get off my back, get on the short bus with me and the rest of my friends, and remember that your favorite color should always be clear with sparkles.

Now- where were we, oh yeah my moment of genius, how could I forget?  Wednesdays seem to be the day of the week most of these moments can be found, keeping that in mind most of my adventures happen on the weekend.  The entire employment option affords me the luxury of the life I enjoy, but limits the days of the week I can be spontaneous.  A few years ago my friend Jack and I set out on one such adventure.  Jack is a girl, and she is tougher than you, has more balls than most men I know, and definitely more determination than anyone I know.  She decided to join me for a visit at my parents’ home, and from there we would partake in some of the splendor that befalls the West Virginia Mountains.  Near the Virginia and West Virginia border is an area known as Canaan Valley.  Within the valley and surrounding area you will find areas that separate it from all other sites of the state.  Our adventure was to happen there.

Since it is my parents’ home it is safe to assume I had seen most of the natural occurrences in the area, but it had been a while.  We moved to that area when I was twelve, and before that we lived in the middle of the state, followed by several years in a real West Virginia holler.  It is true I am a cliché.  A coal miner’s daughter from up in the holler is where my roots can be found.  Those stories are for another time.  At the time of the quest Jack and I set out on I was around 19.  Between 12 and 19 the nature I sought was not of the woods, twigs, and berries variety.  Teenage girls have many more interesting things to investigate than mountain tops.  It is safe to say I was around 13 that last time I had been to Blackwater Falls.  Regardless I was 19 and knew everything so it didn’t matter that we weren’t quite sure what we were doing or where we going. I remembered there were signs, and eventually we would find our way. 

We had made it the drive to Seneca, and we wanted to tour both Smoke Hole and Seneca Caverns that day.  As well as take in Blackwater.  We got to the fork in the road, facing Seneca Rocks ( a very jagged rock formation separating WV and VA) and I knew Smoke Hole was to the left and Seneca Rocks to the right.  This was my genius moment of the day, I had remembered without having to stop and ask for directions.  We arrived at Smoke Hole Caverns, paid for our tour and started our journey with the folksy story provided by the tour guide.  Since it has been quite a while since I had been there, the caverns weren’t as impressive as they once were.  If fact, in the Upside Down Wishing Well, my bust had increased enough in size that two stalagmites were almost added to the wall on my way out.  To which Jack blurted out “Big Big, Big Big Titties!” in true Duce Bigalow fashion.  The laughing she caused was not making my case for escape from the Upside Down Wishing Well any easier.   The tone for the rest of the tour had been set, and the phallic shaped rocks provided much entertainment for young hormonal women.   After the tour we visited the gift shop where we found candies from our childhood like railroad sticks and crystal sugar suckers.  As young girls do, we squealed with excitement and made a quick purchase, then were off to Seneca Caverns.

These caverns are a straight through walk of about a mile.  Just like before, there were large dildo shaped rock projectiles and huge organ pipe shaped rocks on the walls. After the hike back to the gift shop we panned for gold.  We had had enough of the underground and headed for Blackwater Falls.  In all truth I had no idea how to get to Blackwater Falls.  Being  19 years old and knowing it all still, I was not dissuaded and much to the credit of the WV (which is really pronounced dub V for anyone living here ) tourist bureau they had placed signs.  So we found the very large waterfall in the middle of the forest without to many problems.  Here is where things start to get a little risky.  To get down to the falls there is a very nice wooden walkway with a blue million steps.  All along this very nice walkway there are signs that say “Do Not Leave the Walkway.”  Since there are a blue million of these steps we must have seen this post at least a dozen times.  Jack is a year older than me, and even though I was 19 and knew everything, she was 20 and knew everything plus one.  The final landing of walkway is close enough to the falls that you can feel the mist rising from the turbulent water.  That was not close enough for Jack, so she left the walkway.  We were both in college, so neither was illiterate.  In fact neither of us was really an adrenaline junkie, nor did we break the law.  Well, maybe the underage drinking one, but that doesn’t count when you are in college.  I stayed behind to capture on film her entire adventure from the walkway to the falls.  At this point I don’t even know if there was a plan once she got there, but she was over the railing and heading for the water.

A tricky thing about water is that it makes for the production of some type of scum or algae to grown on rock.  In turn it makes that covered surface slick, and the hillside on which Jack was making her decent is covered with rocks.  She went far enough to twist her ankle, and then stopped.  Now, here was Jack half way down the hill to the falls, and we were at the bottom of the blue million steps of the very nice walkway that she left.  There was no way I could get to her and carry her out.  She was going to have to tough it out.  Much to her credit (and lack of major injury) she did.  I told you, this girl is tough.   Rumor has it that she returned to Blackwater at a later date, but I never asked if she conquered her original goal.  She had just turned her ankle enough to cause some pain, and she walked it off like a good country girl would do.  Ascending the, what seems endless amount of steps in the woods took a little longer, but we made it and decided our day was not ready to end.  I asked if she wanted to see Dolly Sods.   Jack of course was up for it.

Although I had been to several parts of the area, I had never seen Dolly Sods.  I have now seen enough of Dolly Sods to know it is a little odd, and not on my top ten places to revisit.  As you drive up the mountain you can see how primitive the area truly is.  The wind is so fierce on the mountain that limbs only grown on one side of the trees.   Right above Bore’s Nest we decided to hike in the woods.  This would be my moment of idiocy.  It is around 4:00pm at this time.  Of course two girls not prepared for hiking whom have been drinking soda all day and munching on sun flower seeds really should set out for a hike into the woods at 4:00pm.  To our credit there was a sign that said Bear something Lookout, so we thought it couldn’t be too far into woods, and we wanted to see the entire hillside of trees with limbs only on one side.  There was a walking path, how bad could it be?

For a while the path was gravel covered and we made good time.  After the gravel ended the roots of the trees lining the path were coming up through the ground, and the occasional “Ouch” and “Dammit” could be heard from either of us.  After about  another30 minutes the path just ended.  We were not at a look out, and there were trees and very tall underbrush directly in front of us.  A group consultation was needed to determine was the next course of action should be.

Jack:  Where did the path go?

Me:  I don’t know, but you would think there would be a sign (I am guessing because the tourist bureau hadn’t let us down thus far)

Jack:  Can you see anything that looks like a path, or where a path has been?

Me:   No but we can’t be much further, we have come a pretty long way.  Maybe the lookout is just beyond the underbrush and they haven’t cleared it yet this year.

Jack:  Do you want to keep going?

Me:  Sure, we can just turn back if we don’t find it in a little while.

So we continued through the underbrush, like some pioneer women staking claim on a piece of ground with a great view of lopsided trees.   Neither of us said anything of importance for a while, there was a lot of bitching about briars and such.  We continued for another 30 minutes or so, but we had found no look out and no reforming of a path.   It was time for another consultation.

Jack:  What do you want to do?

Me:  I wanted to see this damn lookout, but it seems to be false advertising.  Do you think we started out the wrong path?

Jack:  I don’t know, it only looked like there was one path to take.  Do you want to head back?

Me:  (After looking back into woods and realizing with the tree cover it was starting to get pretty shaded) Yeah it is probably a good idea.

We turned around and headed back to the car.  Now, we entered an area with no path, and the idea was to just keep walking straight so that when we turned around we would just have to walk straight back to the car.  All of this sounded simple enough to the person who knew it all, and the person who knew it all plus one.  It was summer, it was hot, and it had been a long day.  We were smart enough to grab a bottle of water when leaving the car, and of course our treats from Smoke Hole Caverns were in our pockets.   It should have only taken us about 30 minutes to find the path again, but it was longer and the woods were getting darker.  Both of us were starting to get a little stressed, and I was exhausted.  Spending the summer working the desk of a hotel had not left me in the best condition to be hiking in the mountains of WV.  We stopped for a moment to try and get our bearings, and it hit us that we may not make it back to the actual path before nightfall.  We were hungry, as food had been our next stop after seeing Dolly Sods and we unwrapped our crystal sugar suckers.  I casually looked and Jack and said, “Don’t eat it all at once, it may be the last food we see for three days.”  Apparently in my mind there is a predetermined amount of time equaling three days that someone will have to endure if they do get lost in the wilderness.   Jack just laughed, and then put us back into motion on our journey.

We fought the underbrush, but mostly the darkness in the trees and about twenty minutes later found the actual man made path by the lovely tourist bureau.  This would be one of those times there is a big fuck you sent out into the ether.  At that point we picked up the pace.  This was not the best plan of action since it had gotten darker and the roots of the trees became invisible hands reaching up to grab your toes in stride.  One root in particular had gotten us both on the way in, and got us both again on the way out.  Jack was out pacing me by at least ten steps.  This girl walked everywhere she went in those days and walking with her was like trying to run an easy ten with Flo Jo.    I would laugh and say, “Just save yourself.”  To which she would reply, “You have the keys!”  We would laugh and giggle trying not to be scared.  In actuality at the time, I think each of us was worried about crossing paths with a bore or a bear, any animal at that point in the darkness would have freaked us out.  Chipmunks had become lethal!  Finally after about 40 more minutes we could see a break in the darkness.  The head of the path was in front of us, and a huge sigh of relief came from both of us.  Never in my life was I so excited to see my crappy little white Chevy Cavalier!  As we broke through the tree line it was like two different worlds.  Without the canopy overhead it was bright enough that we still have time to add more adventure to our day.  We got in the car and found something to drink as fast as we could.  Then laughter ensued at how scared we almost were, and how dramatic it had been to even think we may be stuck in the woods all night long.  It was close to 7:00pm and we needed off of the mountain.  More importantly I needed to find a phone to call my parents and let them know we were alive because we originally thought we would be home by 6:00pm.  No problem there was sure to be a pay phone in the town just near the bottom of the mountain.

We were safe in the car headed back to civilization and laughing the entire way down the road.  That is until we were on Backbone Mountain.  The road is a series of small straight stretches followed with “S” curves.  My little car didn’t enjoy going down the mountain.  As the brakes were getting hot their stopping ability seemed to become zero efficient.  It was okay in the straight stretches until they ended in a curve, so I would put my foot to the floor on the brake pedal and gear down.  I drove an automatic, and was pretty sure the transmission was going to come out before we made it to the bottom.  This seemed to be working until we got behind a dump truck of some kind.  In a straight stretch we went around him, and he was not happy and blew his horn to let us know.  Jack yelled, “Sorry buddy, no brakes!” although I am not sure he heard or cared at that point.  Somehow we made it down the mountain without going over the side or in the ditch, but we did use all the real estate that we could.

Once in town, and I use the word town loosely here, we found the one and only pay phone is Davis, or Thomas- frankly I don’t know which is which.  My Mama was not happy that we were not home, nor was she even the littlest bit impressed with our story of wilderness survival or the impending death we faced on Backbone.  Instead we were instructed to be home, and if we had been home at a better hour none of this would have happened!  “Yes Mom” is all I could utter.  Did she forget who she was talking to, I mean between the two of us WE knew everything times two plus one!  We had crystal sugar suckers , we were a force to be reckoned with!

Fly Away Home

Do you know what it is like to have a friend that is so close to you that they can read your mind and anticipate your reaction before you have processed the information?  I have three go-to accomplices.  Previously you met Mindalou.  There are also, krose and Jack.  (krose is pronounced K Rose)

It is important to note that I am not always politically correct, for that matter, neither are the people that I hang out with.  People are much more interesting to me when they are unmasked and at their most primal.  That being said let me introduce you to krose.

To them a phone call from me that starts with, "Have you ever wondered if the Smurfs had a God?" is not unusual.  Most people would be caught off guard by such a question and start their own line of questioning from that point.  Most likely starting with, "Are you okay?"  krose however, just went with it and continued, "Ummmm no, but I wondered why there was only one girl."   The "ummmm" of course means she actually took time to think about the question.

Spontaneous events involving everyday occurrences are what categorize most of the times you find krose and I together on the corner of Trauma and Intrigue.  The way to know that you are about to be a part of one of those instances is the battle cry that has become infamous before said event.  If either of us calls it out, get your game face on 'cause shit could get ugly.

"Ah Hell!" (pronounced HAIL, because we live below the Mason-Dixon Line) is the sure fire way to realize you have just been cast as an extra to some kind of adventure that could end up in the morning paper.  Consider yourself warned...

Every year the Christmas holiday season involves shopping.  Some people prepare for it, some people procrastinate, and others are Jewish so they don't do it at all.  In 2010, as an only child, I got called in for elf duty by my father.  He is a man, men hate to shop, and I was asked to 'help' out.  Smack my ass, and call me Snowflake.  I put on my pointy bell shoes and obliged him.  The mission was to obtain a round fiberglass table with collapsing legs from Sam's Club for my mother's gift.  Good thing for him I had a Sam's Club membership. Being a single woman with no pets, it makes perfect sense that I belong to a bulk food and supply store.  Don't judge me- they have cheap wine, and that I buy in bulk!

Just before Christmas I was working so many hours at work that shopping and decorating for the upcoming holiday had become a chore rather than the fun I usually have with it.  They use to call those kinds of hours slavery, today society calls it salary. Regardless, krose and I had a date night where we would do some shopping for her son, go to Sam's get the table, and then catch a movie.  Triple score all the way around.

We picked up the last policeman's outfit at Toys 'R Us, headed to Sam's across the river in Ohio, and still had plenty of time to catch the movie.  Yes, we live in yet another "tri-state" area, but doesn't everyone according to the evening news?  Arriving at Sam's we sought out said table, and found it.  That is the moment in the evening where we stopped doing everything correctly.  I had measured a table at the Sam's close to my house, but the tables in another state an hour away from my house looked much larger so it became obvious that spreading the holiday shopping money across state lines had become a GREAT idea.  Since all the tables were stacked neatly with their folded legs, I tracked down a young man in a blue vest to ask how we got one down and out to the car.  The table looked big, and although it was made of fiberglass, for some reason we thought it would still be heavy. 

His first question let us know that perhaps were not the people to buy anything at Sam's Club other than the aforementioned bulk wine.  Perhaps we should have drank some of the wine, then continued.  "Do you have a flatbed cart?" were the six words that clicked in our minds that people in heels did not need to be attempting any activity with the neatly stacked tables.  In that southern hospitality way he went and got us a flatbed cart, and began putting the table on it.  Well shit, we could have done that!  I thought perhaps there was more procedure, but no, at Sam's if you want furniture of any sort, you just put it on a cart and take it to the front.  Lifting the table onto the cart its true size began to sink in.  The sign said 52".  I obviously had measured some sort of display table previously.  Being an educated person I understood the measurement, however I have no spatial reference of how that works in reality.  I drive a Toyota Highlander.  Surely it would fit in an SUV?

Once the white round 52" table was on our cart we started wheeling it to the front.  There was much more table than cart or common sense at this point.  To ensure the safety of our fellow shoppers I announced our movement with the large Christmas gift with, "UFO coming through! Make a hole and make it wide.  Excuse us, thank you."  krose wanted to ride on top of it.  While this was funny, a similar incident ended with her getting stuck in a shopping cart at another store.  If nothing else, we do learn from our time spent on the corner.  We checked out, and proceeded outside.  An employee was to help us get the table in the car.  Red flag #2 appeared as we were leaving Sam's Club and the sliding doors weren't wide enough for the table to pass through.  After I rammed the table into both sets of doors and the extra swinging out parts of the glass had to be opened, we should have stopped.  This was a Christmas gift for my Mama, and it needed to be purchased and taken to her, and I was an elf dammit!  We were met in the parking lot by Adam, the lovely Sam's Club put things in your car assistant.

Adam was in high school, and an inexperienced individual.  Both krose and I are used to experienced and capable men being involved with situations where we have no reason to even speak.  Purchasing and hauling large objects is one of those situations.  Regardless I opened the back hatch and Adam and I began lifting the table into the car. 

THUD! with the table horizontal, THUD! with it caddy cornered. 

We were lacking at least a foot of clearance of getting the table into the car.  Adam laughed in that low breathy manner, very reminiscent of Beavis and Butthead.  krose on the other hand felt the most useful thing she could do at this point was to cackle, lean herself against the car, and laugh until she cried. She'll make up for that later.  It was time for a decision, to take the table back and return it and admit defeat, or manage to get the table tied to the top of the car in some fashion.  To say that I am stubborn is an understatement.  I asked Adam if they had anything we could use to tie the table to the top of the car.

"Ah Hell!" from me, only made krose laugh even harder. 

While Adam was on the mission of procurement of the necessary tools for tying the table to car, a light bulb went off that I could drive up to my parents a day early, and my father and I could take their truck to pick up the same kind of table at their local Sam's Club.  However, this table was already at my car, and we were more than fifty feet away from the store front, and quite frankly I was an appointed elf!  Involving Santa in any package picking up was not a defeat I was willing to accept.  Momentarily after my resolve, Adam returned with twine.  Nylon twine....nylon twine to tie a fiberglass round table to luggage racks.  We would like to send a big fuck you out into the ether for this one.  Still, we proceeded. 

krose and I have done a lot of things.  Tying stuff to a vehicle that will be going down the road is not listed in either of our "Special Skills" sections on our resumes.  Our UFO was about to get its chance for flight, and this made both of use nervous.  This is the point in which experience would have helped out.  Between the three of us, we had nada.  We wrapped the twine around the table and then circled the luggage rack and realized we needed a knot.  Now, here is why all boys should belong to the Boy Scouts.  I was a Brownie when I was younger, and as a female I am fully cookie aware.  Guys should know how to tie knots.  You can "Womens Lib" me all day and night.  I don't give a shit! There are certain tasks that each sex should know how to perform.  Tying knots and killing bugs remain in the male category.  Adam apparently was never a Boy Scout, and quite frankly I am not sure that he will ever see a girl naked.  But good luck to you Adam, and thank you for the twine.

We somehow get a formation of something resembling a knot on one piece of twine.  The second piece we could never get quite tight enough.  Like a message from the heavens, I said, "Well krose, you are going to have to hold onto this one."  Here, someone who didn't know me would have thought I couldn't be serious, but krose is a seasoned accomplice.  So, she hopped in the passenger seat, cracked the window, I handed her the string, she held on tight, and continued laughing.  I walked around the car, got in, looked over at her.

"I got balloons!" was all I needed to hear from krose to know that things were going to be either really good, or really bad.  We quickly decided that the dinner we had intended to have with our saved time from earlier was out, and that we would get the table to her house, unload then go to the movie.  I would come back for the table when I had better attaching materials or a truck.  So at the Mach speed of 35 mph we headed down the road with what looked like a UFO on top of the car which was being held on by the strength of a giggling woman.  What could go wrong?

If only we had lights to put around the circumference of the table, then we would be in business.   We made it back across the state line, which is when we realized that if we had violated any moving vehicle laws we just became felons.  At the bottom of the exit ramp, we heard a loud noise of what sounded like something sliding across ice.  krose rolled down the window, stuck out her little head, looked up and said, "Oh I got a lot more UFO hanging off this side than I did before."  We pulled to the side of the road and got out to assess the situation.

With my acute observations skills, "Ah shit!" was about the only thing I could muster.  Now some people don't believe in Santa Claus.  However, lights pulled in behind us, and a man with white hair, and a large belly emerged from the car behind us.  He was dressed in a NASCAR shirt, jacket, and jeans.  He had a wife and a son.  In fact his eager son of around 10 years old was sure they could help us out.  He asked if we needed any help.  Now, here are two girls standing on the side of the road, dressed as we were with a UFO half hanging off the side of the car....the question just wasn't necessary, but more of a way of saying "Hello" I believe. He directed his son to get his mom's pocket knife, at which point I knew we were dealing with the right kind of people.  A woman who carries a pocket knife isn't going to be messing with a man who can't tie a knot.  As I watched him tie the legs of the table to the luggage rack instead of going across the entire table I felt foolish and educated all in the same moment.  After he was finished the table still was loose on top of the car, but he assured us, "It may slide around a bit, but she ain't goin' nowhere." 

He asked us how far we were going.  We told him about 20 miles up the road, but eventually the table would have to go about another 200 miles to be delivered as a Christmas gift.  Okay, that is a lie.  No one in West Virginia measures distance in miles, but rather the amount of time it takes to get there.  So we said, about 30 minutes up the road, then 3 more hours after that.  He quickly stood back on his heels, stuck out his belly, and gave half a chuckle saying, "It ain't gonna go any 3 hours, but you can make it 30 minutes with it on thar'."  We thanked him, and he told us Merry Christmas and waved goodbye returning to his pocket knife carrying wife.  You have to love southern hospitality. Thank you Santa!!!!!

krose and I continued on our journey, and the car with the UFO on top was filled with laughter reminiscent of school girls at a slumber party.  We were sure that we were going to get pulled over and sited for something.  Without missing a beat krose quickly had a plan.

"Don't worry.  If we get pulled over I will get put on the policeman's hat down here, (she threw up her hand in a stopping motion) and say don't worry officer- I got this!"  Yeah, that would keep us out of jail, but not the local mental ward.  We did make a pact long ago, that if either of us is put in a mental ward, the other will bring a bedazzler so we won't have to wear those awful white jackets- we could still be stylish.

At this point we had killed so much time we had to go straight to the movie, or miss it entirely.  Since the night was already crazy, we just decided parking the UFO topped car in the parking garage at the movie theater would be okay.  We had popcorn for dinner, and enjoyed our show.  After the show we returned to krose's house without incident and unloaded the table to store in her garage until I could return with better fastening equipment.

There were many lessons learned, no one was injurred or arrested this time.  We even met Santa Claus.  More importantly I was not demoted from elf status.

Right Where We Stand

This past year was filled with travel and adventure that may be unparalleled in my life thus far.  Never having been one for patience, I decided to have my mid-life crisis at the age of thirty.  The way I see it is, if I wait until a proper age of say, oh forty, I could have been killed in a flaming car crash or eaten by Pigmies and missed the entire event all together on account of my being dead.  Carpe diem, but really it was more of seizing an entire year and living as though life was limitless.  In complete acceptance that life was never more perfect than the moment you are in, I decided to not hold out and go for it all. 

As it turns out, I am a chicken shit and could only manage this in bursts.  To be in complete control of your existence in every given moment is better suited for the Dalai Lama or some other figure or centered individual than a thirty year old woman hell bent on reclaiming herself while holding to that Gen X belief that the world could be healed.  Not regular healed, but the evangelic "HEALED!" you would hear as the newly healed participant is falling to the stage after being graced by the touch of a self-proclaimed instrument of God.  I mean, if you are going to heal someone, why not do it in front of countless strangers in the name of self-promotion instead of a quiet setting that would more reflect the actual grace of such a being as God?  Instead, yes "HEALING" them is much more punk rock, look at me in my flashy attire, mega sound system, style of the '80s.  I digress, which I do quite often.  So with having this belief that was drilled into as a child that I could do or be anything, at the age of thirty I decided to put it to the test.  As I mentioned, I am a chicken shit, so I brought along some willing accomplices.

The award for most frequent flyer goes to Mindalou.  That isn't her name, don't be foolish.  However, she will answer to it, and that is forever as she will be known here.  Together in the span of a little more than twelve months we saw Philly, Vegas, Da Beach (twice), Pittsburgh, and San Diego.  She is my soul sista.  Life has a funny way of making us walk completely different paths only to come to a junction and find someone headed in our direction.  Our lives were/are completely different in ways that I can't begin to explain.  Despite the oddities of experience, we bonded on a level of deeper understanding and consciousness. It is in the differences that we find connection.  This was made apparent during dinner in Coastal Carolina this summer.

Just as girls do at dinner, we were gabbing about life experiences that we hadn't yet come to terms with, along with the moments that hold value from our pasts.  In swapping stories Mindalou stopped and said, "All of your memories come from happy times.  It is like your life has been the happiest of experiences, and you hold those things close to you.  In every situation you try to make it the best it can be, and make sure that the people you are with are enjoying themselves.  My memories come from traumatic events, or those moments that intrigue me.  If I found something odd, it is like that is where I put a memory marker.  It is just strange we categorize things differently, but we get along so well and have the best time together."  She then got quite, and looked down at the dinner table.  Being the person that I am I asked, "So, you have been on the corner of Trauma and Intrigue making memories?"  We laughed, and Mindalou replied, "Yeah, I guess so."

Life is nothing more than that....a continuous quest to make memories for the days near then end when it is harder to do so.  Instead, you can sit back and gaze at the markers you have placed in time.  In that, we walk everyday toward the corner of Trauma St. and Intrigue Blvd.  For it is a place you won't forget, well unless you develop Alzheimers, then you are just fucked.  You did a whole lot of walking to forget to wear pants.  In that case the best you can hope for is the person that strolled with you remembers enough for the both you, and still likes you enough to help you find your pants.