This weekend was amazing, as usual. I’ll say this about St. Louis weather: it may be unpredictable and unnecessarily mercurial, but it always seems to pull through (and even when it doesn’t, we still have the best sunsets in the world). Lately we’ve had nonstop sunshine and the temperature has been goldilocksably just right – it was the perfect weather for camping. So that’s exactly what we did.
We usually hike to the St. Francis Dam when we camp, but this time around we went to Elephant Rock, which has giant pink granite boulders and one massive rock named Dumbo that will blow you away when you get to the top.
I highly recommend it to anyone who’s never been, especially anyone who’s into rock climbing. NEXT TIME, however, we have to go to Johnson’s Shut-Ins . Just don’t do a cannonball off the cliffs – especially not twice in a row. Trust me. Your ass will thank you. I also highly recommend camping with hunters and former Eagle Scouts. Your fires will be mighty.
AND! Always bring Pershing. Always. I mean, just look at him:
He’ll shake lake water all over you and try to follow you into the outhouse, but he checks up on everybody and he won’t let you walk alone at night.
I feel much safer, though, ever since Bonus taught me how to shoot his musket. Hee! It takes a long time to load (insert mandatory “ram rod” joke here) but hot damn, that thing is powerful. It almost blew me off the top of the stockade, and I still have a bruise on my shoulder.
I just told my dad about the musket, and he highly recommended shooting off a cannon. “It’s… it’s just a great time, Stephie. It really is.” I love my dad.
And to Albert Pujols: You are The Man. I don’t even care if we win the series any more. Holy balls. That game was amazing. I’m not a big fan of getting my hopes up, but St. Louis sports always remind me that anything can happen, even in the last pitch or the final 10 seconds.
Last night at the bar, when we were losing 4-2 in the possible last game of the season, with 2 men on bases and 2 outs in the 9th inning and Pujols was up to bat with 2 strikes… my boy Oldham screamed “If he hits a home run, I’m eating all the salt in this salt shaker!”
St. Louis sports has also taught me to never scream out shit like that in bars. At least not loud enough for the other tables (and me) to call your bluff, because Pujols is The Man. I wonder what THAT hangover feels like. Yikes.
And today at work, Christina brought in a cake. A cake made out of Ding Dongs. OMG. This rivals the S’mores Wedding Cake for sure, and I actually got to eat this one. This has been the best week ever. HAPPY (belated) BIRTHDAY, NIKI!! And HAPPY ANNIVERSARY, JEN & RON!!