Life IS Pain, Highness

Days Walking - 38

I'm actually typing this myself for a change.
It's a pain in my ass and I don't miss doing it.

I had the idea to do A Day In The Life of Litany before we reach town. This is what happened today.

It's gonna be long.
Those of you with short attention spans - - -
Should click to a more succinct blog.

You stubborn, read-to-the-end types - - -
Might want to get a powerbar and a sports drink.

4:23AM
I wake up and have to pee. I consider getting up and using the Night Bottle and the SannyFem, then decide it can wait. I roll over and go back to sleep.

4:37AM
Gotta pee. But it's cold. So cold. The thought of uncovering my delicate nertherparts makes me want to cry. Bite lip and wait for need to pee to fade.

4:52AM
Sanny and Bottle have been deployed from their heavy-duty freezer bag. It took some maneuvering to unpackage them without leaving my sleeping bag. I now have a nasty neck cramp. After difficult, painful equipment deployment, need to pee has faded.

5:03AM
Church talks in her sleep, saying quite distinctly:
"You bale it, I've eaten my fill."

5:07AM
Need to pee has returned with Vengeance. This time it's personal. I squirm and procrastinate. Besides, Church might wake up while I am in the midst of my squat, and who wants to see that?

5:08AM
I couldn't possibly. I'm having a random attack of shyness, and there's no way I could go potty until Church gets up and gives me a minute alone.

5:08:30AM
No No No NO.

5:09AM
Aaaaaaahhhhhhhhh.

5:10AM
I don't know what the big deal was, she never even twitched. I'm feeling much better now. Life is good again. I'm ready for breakfast and a nap and some lovin. Steak and eggs please. And pancakes. A big f*cking stack of pancakes. And bacon.

5:12AM
Ingested one Oatmeal Raisin granola bar. Am thirsty. Water bottle is too far away to reach. I suck on my tongue and think about how Shelly is a F*cking Bitch.

6:42AM
Kwame calls out "The sunrise is gorgeous! You gotta come see this."
I wake up to see Church putting away SannyFem.

I pretend I'm asleep and am glad I missed spotting the squatting.

7:03AM
Church pokes me with the friendly end of her trekking pole, from a safe distance. She knows all too well I am a flailer / biter / scatcher . "Get up. It's your turn to make food."

(We stopped calling what we do 'cooking' a long time ago).

Poke "Hey. Wake up." Poke "Hello?" I pretend to be in a deep sleep.

7:10AM
Poke poke poke poke

7:19AM
I am sitting up, a huge accomplishment.

7:22AM
All bundled up. I keep the clothes I will wear the next day in my sleeping bag, so they can be a somewhat neutral temperature for donning. I can get dressed really quickly nowawadays. Eric would be flabbergasted.

The group is grumbling because the sun has been up for almost 45 minutes and they have not yet been fed. Apologies offered for all. No one accepts.

7:35AM
The group has been eating unhealthy foods lately, I muse. They will have simple fare this morning, to remind them of their roots, their purpose.

And I am tired.

I pile a couple of gear bags in front of the stove for a wind break. I set up the collapsible wire rack to keep the stove off the ice. I use the pocket stove with fuel tablets and a pan to melt some ice and whip up some nice rehydrated Thai Veggie Slop, and some Ginger Sesame Slop.

But wait, I've skipped some steps.
- - Wavery Flashback Dissolve - -

You see, making food, like everything else out here, is a huge pain in the ass. You don't go to the cupboard to get a pan, you have to find out where it's packed (a rip-roaring mystery whodunit based on forensic evidence and who used it last) and unpack it.

Often, it's at the very ultimate bottom of whatever bag it's in. Even though it gets daily use. And if it's dirty (which it was), you have to clean it. Then you have to find a pick or a shovel, cause there's never any powder when you want some.

Where's the shovel?
I think Adrian used it last.
Where's Adrian?
I think he's 'reading the morning paper'
Where's the pick?
I don't know.
I thought the pick was yours.
It is but I loaned it to Caeled a few days ago.
Where's Caeled?
I don't know.

What the hell? It's not like he's down at the arcade, plugging Sacagawea’s into Tekken 4.

For want of a shovel, we all starve.

I angrily used my snowshoe to punish the ice until it cried uncle and cracked enough to allow me to scoop some into a pan. Once you have a decent sized crack, it's pretty easy to break off more. Crystalline fracture dynamics and et cetera.

7:58AM
Everyone suddenly appears, once the food is ready.
Where the hell were they when I needed a shovel?

7:59AM
Everyone is done with their slop, and they complain briefly about my food prep skills before vanishing - to allow me to melt enough snow for all the water bottles, clean up the pan, pack and stow the pan, pack and stow the stove. And pack the non-degradable refuse for future legal disposal. You know, so Majestic, Regal Polar Bears can dig through it at the Capitalist Slobs of U.S.A. Dump. It's just sad.

8:21AM
Gabe appears, the instant I'm done cleaning and packing.
"You were looking for me?"

"No...?"

If I had a hammer, I'd hammer out a warning.

8:33AM
I made thorough use of the poop tent.
Yes, we could use our shelters from the night before as out-houses just before our departure, but this is a no-no. If an injury, extreme weather, or other emergency occurs, you might have to return and re-use your shelters.

Um. Somehow, as of this morning, we have run out of TP.
(I suspect the sniffle-sufferers Kwame and Church used up a large portion expelling snot into our supply. Must buy cloth handkerchiefs for snorting into.) So we've started using socks which are then placed into ziplock bags. Only #2 is sock-worthy. Gross gross I know. For #1, you get to air dry. It's cold so you don’t want to wait around. Picture lots of hand-waggling, air-fanning motions, as though you're waving at your privates.

8:40AM
We do a quick check to confirm we're not leaving anything behind, and set out towards destination.

I have a little printed list I made while I was still in LA. It's laminated even. It's a reminder list for mornings, so I don't forget things:

- Dad Loves His Litany
- Dad Misses His Litany
- iPod
- Headphones
- Gum (been all out for weeks and weeks)
- Goggles
- Scrunchy in place?
- Extra Scrunchy on wrist
- Earplugs on lanyard

(I have been prone to ear infections in the past, and biting cold wind is to be kept at bay at all costs)

8:51AM
Walking, the snow crust is thin here. Now that I don’t need it to be. Crunch Crunch Crunch Crunch

9:37AM
A fastener on Gabe's snowshoe snapped with a loud PING sound.
We gathered around like a Doofus of Deputies. After analysis of the evidence, we determined that metal fatigue is the culprit, due to incorrect use. It seems he regularly uses his S-Shoes to dig into the ice as a shelter-building tool. What kind of moron uses their snowshoe to break ice? The snowshoe is tied back on using fishing line. It has less give, but with 250 pounds of tensile strength, it should hold. Plus Jake ties knots wicked good. I need to learn.

11:15AM
15 Minute Break. Adrian and Church do a ‘greet and speak’ with each of us, evaluating our condition, lucidity and the status of any verboten exposed skin. By now we all know the drill, and protect ourselves from the elements and Church and Adrian's scathing wrath. Not necessarily in that order.

I took this opportunity to swap ipods with Jake, part of the Share Da Love initiative. He’s all about Beastie Boys, Dead Milkmen, Butthole Surfers - you get the idea - it’s what is typically considered ‘obnoxious’ music for most people. It’s good stuff, but I have to be in the mood.

The ipod I’ve been handed is on Pause. So I hit play:

“…A little bit of Monica in my life, a little bit of Erica by my side, a little bit of Rita's all I need, a little bit of Tina is what I see, a little bit of Sandra in the sun…”

Bastard.

He’s hit me with Mambo Number 5. I have an issue with this song, once I hear it. It insinuates itself into my soul. Now I’ll be hearing it in my head for days, singing it, humming it, whistling it. And he knew that. And now he’s snickering at me. Oooh he’s such a little shit.

One of these days I’ll find out what his psycho song is, and then:
It’s War.

11:30AM
Crunch Crunch Crunch Crunch

11:45AM
Jake’s ipod battery gives out in the middle of a Pixies song, but it doesn’t matter because I’m done. My ears are starting to hurt, and clap your hands once and clap your hands twice and if it looks like this then your doing it right I’m starting to get a headache anyway.

12:05PM
Crunch Crunch Crunch
Scoot Scoot Scoot
Schoosh Schoosh Schoosh,

The texture of the ground has changed, and it’s a nice change of pace. I kind of swish my hips and get into it.

12:35PM
To me flirtin is just like a sport, anything fly - its all good let me dump it, please set in the trumpet…

1:00PM
Lunch time.
Usually, for the mid-day meal, we can’t be bothered to deploy the stoves or eating implements, so a hot meal is not our destiny. We shrug out of our packs and sit on them. Kwame and Adrian sit on their sled, aloof and above us all. They can have that damn thing. We munch down on fitness bars, granola, dried fruit. Bunny food.

1:30PM
Church and Adrian gave us another once-over. Caeled was griping about his fungus issue, but none of us felt too much sympathy, because it’s his own damn fault.

1:40PM
More hiking. Schoosh schoosh, and whatnot.

- - - - - -

Damn, this is really long and I’m only up to 2PM. I do all to fall in love with a girl like you, You can't run and you can't hide, You and me gonna touch the sky, I have notes. I’ll finish this later. Like, after I’ve showered and slept in a real bed. Which could be as soon as tomorrow.

Hee hee I can't wait!

Hmmn mnn hmm hmn hmmmm dooo dee da doo doo da da

Blogger won't let me log in for some reason. Emailing to Marina...

Litany Webb, signing off

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