Like A Rock
*cough* <waving away dust and cobwebs> *cough* Day-um, y’all, it’s all dusty up in here! It’s not that I’ve forgotten about you, Innernetz. I’ve missed y’all tremendously, but if I didn’t focus on the freelance writing, copyediting, and tutoring jobs I rustled up for some extra cash, I’d instead miss things like electricity and food. The past month was an exhausting pattern of workworkworkworksleepwork. I’m not complaining — well, yes I am because that’s what I do — but this last month has been full of the suckage and no bloggage.
But I’m baaaccck, and I know you are just orgasmic with relief. I’ll give you a minute or two to compose yourself and change your panties. Smoke ‘em if you got ‘em.
I had a break this weekend when The Cougar came to visit. She took one look at my pasty pallor and prescribed large doses of Vitamin Daylight. It took a while for her to crowbar me away from my desk, my ass having molded perfectly around my chair cushion, but once that was accomplished we headed to the park with Dingo Girl for a tasty but hasty dingolicious picnic. One of the paths that meandered up a steep hill took us along a massive vertical rock face jutting drunkenly out of the ground like Mel Gibson at The Passion of The Long Island Iced Tea. As I walked to the edge of the path so that Dingo Girl could do her bidness, I suddenly heard The Cougar say, “I’m going to climb that rock! I bet I can see most of the park from the top!” The next second she was scaling the smooth precipice like Spiderman with a sand wedgie.
“Come down!” I called. “What are you doing?! Are you crazy?!”
The Cougar continued to climb. “Take a picture!” she yelled.
My heart thumping so hard it sounded like Kirstie Alley in Wal-Mart flip-flops, I fumbled in my messenger bag for my camera. Dingo Girl was pacing around my feet, whimpering. By the time I found the camera, The Cougar was another five feet up. She paused to wave at me.
“Don’t do that! Get down here! You’re going to break your neck!” The Cougar responded by giving me The Cougar equivalent of the finger — she stuck her tongue out at me. And kept climbing.
I started to put the camera back in my bag when I felt a tug on Dingo Girl’s retractable leash. She had started up the rock after The Cougar. Dingo Girl, however, not having grasped the fine art of climbing 80-degree rock cliffs, shifted into reverse, going up the rock face ass first. I dropped the leash, crossed the path, and walked to the rock to get her down. She crab-walked just out of my reach but not before planting a saucy lick on my nose — Dingo Girl’s version of the finger.
Dingo Girl halted her upward progression about twenty feet up where the rock veered even more sharply up the side of the hill and sat down. She somehow remained stuck to the side of the rock, jutting from the cliff like Pinocchio’s nose at a Tea Party rally. I started to scale the cliff to save her.
“Mom!” I yelled. “Call Dingo Girl to you. She has to keep going.”
Hearing the panic in my voice, Dingo Girl began to get nervous. She began to whimper. And then howl. It was a long, high-pitched wail. It sounded something like I’msofuuuuuucked! I’madognotamountaingoat! She started to slide. Pebbles, dirt, and bits of moss kicked up by her struggles hit my face like a rice-substitute at a very environmentally friendly wedding. Here comes the bride. Too bad she died.
My feet couldn’t find purchase against the slick moss. Motherfucker! Motherfucker! slip, slide, whack! My knee crashed against the rock. Motherfucker! Still, I made slow progress toward Dingo Girl.
“Grab her!” I yelled to The Cougar. She reached for Dingo Girl’s collar and…missed! Dingo Girl slammed into me. For the first time in years, I thanked the Universe for my big thighs. More surface area to hang onto the promontory of death. I managed to catch Dingo Girl, her head trapped between my knees and her butt in my face. I breathed a sigh of relief but now I had a freaked out dog trapped between me and the rock. And I was on a rock! No, I was on the side of a rock!
The Cougar carefully scooted toward us and got close enough to wrap her arm around Dingo Girl’s back end. We slowly moved up the remaining five feet or so in fits and starts like Frogger, The Epilectic Edition. When we finally reached level ground at the top of the boulder, The Cougar and I flopped onto our backs, breathing heavily, and picking dog hair out of our mouths. Dingo Girl went to pee on a bush.
“Well,” I said to The Cougar, “we made it! Thank you for that exhilarating experience!”
Then I grumbled something only marginally obscene. You couldn’t even see the entire park from the top. Too many trees! I called Dingo Girl over and then turned toward her. She was still rustling in the nearby bushes so I went to get her. I didn’t want her near the steep edges. I pictured her jumping over the edge and The Cougar jumping right after her because that looked like fun, too.
When I reached Dingo Girl, I realized that she had found a staircase carved into the rock. The stairs led down and around the rock to a point about thirty feet in front of the spot where The Cougar had decided to climb.
And that, dear Innernetz, is how I lost my voice.
Posted on Monday, April 26, 2010 at 08:58 PM.
Tags: It's All Relative, Dingo Girl, La Vida Loca
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Comments & Trackbacks
I don’t know about The Cougar, but she sure puts spice in your life. Glad you’re back.
You’re ALIVE!! And (presumably) not living under a bridge! Damn, I’ve missed you! Welcome back, Dingo!
What an adventure!
And I thought *I* had some (mis)adventures with the dogs. Damn. I’m almost jealous, and I think I will be prescribing myself a picnic in the near future - that sounds like good medicine. I might omit the “dog butt in the face” part, though.
You know, I bet if you stopped wearing your boots to climb, you’d have an easier time of it. And I’m glad you finally posted. GEESH. I almost forgot what you looked like!!!!!!!
You had your awesome climbing boots on, and it looks like the cougar slipped out of her red pumps to hit that hill. Ya’ll got it goin’ on in the sensible shoe department during a crisis.
Thank goodness Dingo girl had sense to save the pikanik basket!
I’m glad you found some daylight. I got rained on while I was there. Mostly while on the top of a double decker tour bus. Go ahead, say it. ‘Damn tourist’. I know you want to.
I’m so glad to hear from you!
“Kristie Alley in Walmart flip-flops” = genius. I almost split my pants (again).
I was just thinking of you yesterday! And I’d say it was some kind of ESP thing but in my mind there was no heroic rock climbing, so I’ll just call it coincidence. Those moms, they get us into some ridiculous shit. Glad to “see” you!
Glad you are not dead. I was just about to write you off as deceased and purge you from my blogroll.
HHIIIIII!!!!(excitedly waving from the back of your blog)
I check you a few times a week to see if there are any updates....and thankfully, today there are.
You were MISSED!! Glad you are back.
And that is why I DO, in fact,wait so impatiently for your posts.
Haha. I can feel your frustration from all the way over here. Glad to have you back. I would suggest some less adventurous friends, but then, your life would get even more boring, wouldn’t it? After all, we wouldn’t want you stuck having tea parties with The Thing.
I’ve so missed you!
I’ve missed you guys!!!
k8 — She’s really a hoot. I often tell her she should start her own blog.
MsDarkstar — Many more adventures like this and I’m pretty sure my next residence will be six feet under.
inkpuddle — Your dog (mis)adventures end with you rescuing dogs; mine end up with my dog trying to kill me.
Jules — Are you suggesting I take my boots off? Nevah!!
Wombat Central — If you’re going through a crisis, sassy shoes are a must!
Shania — I love the double-decker bus tour, believe it or not. Dingo Girl would push me off a mountain to get to a pikanik basket. Sad, but true.
saratogajean — Hahahahaha! I remember you splitting your pants. Hilarious.
Lesley G — Girl, when are you coming back up this way?
Ed Adams — Dude, if I were dead the flags had better be at half-mast and a moment of silence observed all throughout the land. And purge me from your blogroll? No flowers? Where is the love, Ed?
Shelly — Hugs to you! Move on up to the front row, Shelly, where I can see you.
Kori — We sooo need to catch up.
S.K. — If anything, mom has become even more adventurous. She wants to go sky-diving! No. Way. I’ll send Dingo Girl in my place.
Ree — Hi! I’ve missed you.
Dingo! You live! Hooray!
Now, what do you think you’re doing? You should know better, and leave the outdoorsy stuff to us professionals. Or, barring that, go invest in about 50 feet of good climbing rope. 
Hooooooooly cow!!! You are entirely too funny for your (AND my) own good!! I almost hyperventilated while I was cri-laughing at this post! (So much so that Freddy came over to check on me.)
Girl, you have STILL got the touch. 
I am so glad to see you back...I just found your blog a few weeks ago and have really loved catching up from the beginning. I got all caught up (as was ready to start actually commenting) and you disappeared.
I think I see a Half Dome climb in your family’s future.
Climbing the staircase wouldn’t have made nearly as good of a story. And the Cougar wouldn’t have as good of a picture to post on her online dating profile.
I climbed a 14er here in Colorado (there are about 50 peaks over 14,000 feet in the state). It took all day. We went up the back side, more difficult and never crowded. We saw four other hikers the entire way up. It was awesome. Blood and sweat and more blood. We got to the top and.... it was like a 7-11 parking lot. Tons of people milling about sipping on energy drinks and eating cliff bars. The front side was very a popular hike! It took a bit of the fun out of it.
So glad you’ve not been murdered and dismembered by your neighbor! Your Mom sounds cool. I want to be the kind of Mom who frustrates and terrorizes her kids. Wait - I already AM!
Copyediting sounds like hell work. I bet you have some fun examples to share?
Wait… you live in the CITY! What’s with all this nature shit you’ve got going on here?!
I know Cougar and can so totally see that happening! She is a wonderful, hot mess. Love her and you. h
Screw the blog, The Cougar needs her own reality show!
GeekHiker — After this experirence, I’m thinking of tackling the Shawgunks. Who needs climbing rope? Can’t I use Dingo Girl’s leash?
Ms.H — Some dogs are seizure dogs. Some dogs are seeing eye dogs. Freddy is a “hey lady, you’re peeing in your pants” dog.
Issa — Hello and welcome!
Mel Heth — Half Dome, El Capitan, and K2 are our list. Should be easy, right?
Bretthead — I wish someone had taken a picture of your face when you saw the posers enjoying a relaxing walk at the top of your mountain. I hope they at least offered you a beer.
Lyvvie — The copyediting, oh my lord, you couldn’t pay me enough to read such poor writing again. Okay, maybe if I were offered a bazillion dollars, but even then I’d complain about it.
Mrs. Chili — NYC has 29,000 acres of parkland. I plan to traverse them all. I’m not going to take The Cougar with me. I can’t keep an eye on both her and Dingo Girl.
h — Hey, Sweet Baby! I think “hot mess” was invented just for her.
TCD — No. Just no.
Ha, go figure there were stairs right on the other side! Good to see you hadn’t been killed by the The Thing. I was worried you actually took my advice and dropped the poo bomb at their doorstep and got caught.
Toe — So you’re saying the poo bomb is not a good idea?
yay dingo! i am so happy you posted and are alive and having adventures. your mom needs to start a blog too. as usual you had me laughing, especially when you found the staircase. if you ever come visit me in BK i might not mention the subway or bridges and see if you show up wet and tired after a long swim
blakspring — What?! There are subways and bridges? Why am I always the last to know?
Wow. The Cougar is full of vim and vinegar!!! My big thighs have saved a life a time or two, as well!
exercise is bad for you you know
Wow, that was a weird dream in fast forward. You have had a week of ‘workworkworkworksleepwork’! I’m dizzy....
Summer — Big thighs are completely underrated as a lifesaving device.
rosie — That’s what I keep trying to tell people!
Sarah — Yes!
Those are some mad photoshop skillz, yo!
I have new appreciation for my thighs now!
Once, J and I climbed a mountain in the High Peaks that was half iced over and we had to use poles and crampons and we thought we were SO hardcore, and then we got to the top and saw kids with sneakers jumping around on the summit. Apparently, there was an easy trail too. It was such a let down!
I have never understood the appeal of climbing up a rock. It’s just a lot of hard work combined with a high likelihood of death.
You see, I hadn’t thought to give my giant thighs a job so as to appreciate them more.
Of course, if they led to those boots of yours I’d be thankful to have them just
fer nuthin’
I find your blog to be quite hilarious. Although you did share some personal information at the top, I enjoyed how you make your blog both interactive, with a picture, and entertaining. I find that the story of why you haven’t had time to blog lately is entertaining in itself, and it really illustrates your personality. I find the picture to be quite amazing, as most of the pictures on your blog are. I feel that you would make a great author of childrens books. I also find it great that you are able to write snippets about whatever is on your mind through blogging. You have inspired me to create a blog that can entertain others with the random stuff that goes through my brain. Thank you.