Charlie made me do it.

Charlie made me do it…..
And to be perfectly honest, I’m to lazy tonight to actually write about my week since the last post.

So, here goes……

If you read this, if your eyes are passing over this right now, even if we don’t speak often, please post a comment with a memory of you and me. It can be anything you want — good or bad. When you’re finished, post this little paragraph on your blog and be surprised (or mortified) about what people remember about you.


One Response

  1. Well, I’ll bite.

    Years ago… back in the Piersol days. It’s late. Butt-ugly late. Despite intending to leave right after work at 9am, I’d been stuck at work late and had other… well, stuff. Paul was also late for some reason. It’s damned:30 late — somewhere in the oozy hour between 11pm and midnight. On top of that, I am on crutches.

    We have found our way to site (like migrating birds), somehow parked — amazingly enough, since there seemed to be no place whatsoever to park — and came down to Troll. At this point, I have been up nearly 30 hours.

    T’s troll (it’s a Grey Niche event after 2000 — of course he’s troll). And you were keeping him company.

    I have enough presence of mind to be able to stand on one foot, hold my crutches in my hand, somehow pull out my membership card and Paul’s, and start going through troll.

    You INSISTED I sit. I insisted I should remain standing. You kept at me until I did.

    And there I sat for the next TWO HOURS… not that I meant to, or that you meant to keep us… but we started out talking about the condition of the restroom facilities on the end of the troll pavilion. And mentioned why the ladies would prefer a porta-potty. And the conversation drifted, as these things do.

    These were seedling days, when we were all new to our belts, or ready to take them. I remember the event now — Samhain, 2002. I think. I believe I was celebrating one year of being belted, for what that was worth. But I could have this confused.

    Paul knew I was useless to carry stuff to the cabin — so he offered to let me stay, go drive down our belongings, then retrieve me when it was time to park.

    People who cane through troll oggled my air cast (I had to have the blow-up slip-on model because how in the world would I have been able to shower with plaster?) and attempted to feed me things. We started talking about alcohol — and why I really didn’t imbibe all that much, and why you didn’t imbibe at all.

    And it felt like maybe 10 minutes had passed… and then Paul’s stumbling up, already garbed and sleepy eyed and apologetic… saying he was sorry, he forgot he was supposed to come get me before crashing, and he’d gone to sleep and…

    and it was after 3am.

    You’re very decently easy to talk to. Always have been. ‘preciate that.

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