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Hi.

I like to write about whatever comes to my mind. Whether that is visiting an abandoned house, or reading a good book, I like to talk. So, chat with me here about what you like! And welcome.

Hiking=Good Times: Part 4

Hiking=Good Times: Part 4

Finally!  The last installment in my 'Hiking=Good Times' mini series.  You can read parts

1

,

2

, and

3

by clicking the number!

At this point in our little adventure, I was starting to get thirsty and possibly a little

whiny

from all the hiking we had done.  Obviously Dave still had something left in him because when we saw this hill he turned to me and said "Dare me to run up that hill?".  Sure Dave.  As long as I don't have to run after you.  Take your time.  I will have a seat on this grassy knoll...

Look at this guy all proud at the top.  Weirdly enough, near the tree to the left of him was a grave/ memorial.  Such an odd place to put something like that.

This was the start of my demise.  This was the hill that I have been talking about in all of these posts.  I hate how the pictures make it seem like it was nothing, really.  It was SOMETHING.  I guarantee.

Did I think I was victorious in something?  Because I had yet to climb that hill, which only showed me how out of shape I really am.  Sigh.  

He just strolled on up, as if he were taking a walk to the mailbox.  Why are guys like that?  He gets just as much exercise as I do, maybe even less, and he is more fit than I am.  Curses!

Oh the gooey mud.  So fun and gooey (uhhh, gross?).

And then we came upon the 'ruins', which were not really ruins at all.  They were just scattered stones.  Ruins can't really be called that unless they resemble something.  Like a house maybe?

I got burred.

Ah yes.  The car,  The glorious car.  At this point every bone in my body was aching, and a storm was blowing in.  The day had been a beautiful warm day, and by the time we got back to Toronto that night, it had started to snow.  A lot. Thank god I had the bright idea to go grocery shopping in my home town.  Which was WAY cheaper by the way.  I am a huge snob about where I come from. Meaning, I don't like it.  I am not FROM there, but I lived there for a long time, and couldn't wait to get out.  When we went grocery shopping I was dreading the fact that I might see someone from my past and have talk to them or something. Low and behold, I DID, but I pretended I didn't know them.  It's ok though, not really a close friend.  I know, I am a snob.  Dave tells me this all the time.

End of tangent.  End of Hiking=Good Times goodness.

Happy weekend all!

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