For All You Mommas

**My apologies to anyone who received an email for a post that didn’t actually exist yet. I had a slight technical difficulty while attempting to use my WordPress phone app. Oops. 

Here we are again, another Mother’s Day. My momma is awesome on a daily basis, and I hope I tell her that often enough. But I still feel sad (and guilty) every year when the day just for her rolls around and I’m stuck with a phone call and package she probably won’t receive until afterward because of my issues with the Post Office. I’m the terrible daughter that moved 2500 miles away, then convinced her other daughter to come with me – and yet she still loves me. What a woman!

I’m at the age now where many of my friends are mommas, too. And throughout my life, I’ve adopted friends’ mommas as my own. I have two awesome grandmammas,  though one is in Heaven now. After that fateful 45-mile drive through a blizzard to the shelter last January, I’m now a dog-momma myself. So today I salute all you mommas, grandmommas, step mommas, foster mommas, adopted mommas, stand-in mommas, pet-mommas, soon-to-be mommas, maybe-someday mommas, and even the I-don’t-think-I’m-gonna-be mommas. I don’t have all your addresses and 1-800-flowers said they don’t deliver to email addresses, so I went out this morning and found you a bouquet of gorgeous flowers from our wonderful Mother Nature that I could send you digitally. All of you.

Enjoy!!

Apple blossoms on their last leg. Beautiful even in their last days.

Pacific Dogwood – these are actually about as big as my hand. I can see these from my window!

Found this beauty growing at the corner of the house all by herself. Despite scouring my resources (aka asking J and him looking in the flower book) we were unable to identify her. Anyone know what she is?

Oregon tea tree, or redstem ceanothus, growing by the driveway. I love the dance number these guys had going today!

Lupines!! These are for all my Texas mommas out there, since they’re the close cousin to the bluebonnets you probably laid your babies in to take pictures.

Lovely phlox in varying shades of purple, one of my favs, hanging out with the yellow lomatium – what a cute couple!

Say what you will about dandelions, I happen to love them. And my mother was always patiently appreciative to receive them by the handfuls.

A lovely bunch of red columbines. I love how they look like little shooting stars.

This red-flowering currant is growing next to the huge “ranger station” sign. Simba and I walk by and smell the blooms almost every morning!

I almost stepped on this teensy-weensy little miner’s lettuce. Tiny perfection.

Service berry bushes – we had these in Twisp, too. They smell absolutely heavenly.

I was about to go inside when I turned and saw this guy looking at me like “Hey! Don’t forget me!” All my other daffodils have already withered except for this exceptional white one. You handsome devil, you!

Another unidentified flower, this one crawling along the ground out by the front gate. Anyone know?

Happy Mother’s Day, everyone!

PS: Feel free to come visit and check out my yard full of wildflowers yourself!

Walk, Forrest, WALK!!

One of the greatest movies ever made, if you ask me, and possibly one of the most quoted: Forrest Gump. If you haven’t seen this movie, you either lead the most boring life on the planet or you’ve lived in a hermit cabin in the middle of the woods for the last 20 years. But I’m pretty sure even Sasquatch has seen it.

Anyway, I love how Forrest runs everywhere, just because he can (well, once he busts out of those gnarly leg braces). I try to channel him when I force my self out for a run even though I really don’t want to. And this last weekend, I did my best to make Forrest proud: I completed my first race.

While I appreciate the applause (thankyouthankyou), don’t clap just yet. This isn’t the race I started training for about 5 weeks ago, the looming half marathon. That one’s in November. This was a 12k (7.5 miles) up in Spokane, WA, – Bloomsday is the name of it – and I didn’t run it. Don’t judge me.

J’s momma has wanted to come visit since we moved, and it worked out that she could come visit and we could all make it up to Spokane for the Bloomsday race together. Then J’s sister confirmed she would be joining us as well, and our race became one big party! They used to live in Spokane when J was a youngster, and everyone was excited to visit. I was happy just to be along for the ride.

We drove up Saturday (the four of us and Simba, the happiest dog in the world) and squeezed in visiting time with old friends. It was pretty cool to get a peek at J’s younger days. We stayed with one of his old high school buddies where I got to watch J act 17 with his pals and Simba make besties with a two-year-old. Both were hilarious.

So Sunday morning we were set to meet downtown for the race. The guys were running – J raced his 5th-grade self – while us females were walking. So the boys wanted to jog there (about 2 miles) as their warm up.  I ran to the race, then had a 7.5 mile cool-down. That’s how I roll! I had to run just about as fast as I could to keep up with the boys, so it was a needed cool-down…

Through a mis-communication during registration, I got us girls stuck in the very last wave to go. This was kind of unfortunate since about 50,000 people participated. The boys finished almost before we even started! When we finally heard the gun, it was still several minutes before we actually stepped across the starting line. There were just so.many.people!

We didn’t even mean to dress like twinkies…me on the left, J’s sister on the right. LET’S DO THIS!

The first mile or so of the race is maddeningly slow, and I soon realized the reason….being in the slowest heat meant we were back with the very largest, oldest, and youngest participants. The plus-side of this: we felt like ROCKSTARS once we had room to start passing people! We were SO FAST!!

But there was that first mile or so to get through first. I was amazed at the tradition of Unlayering – it’s cool in the morning, so people wear sweatshirts and other warm layers, then as they get going, they toss them into the trees along the side of the race. Then volunteers collect it all and donate it to the local GoodWill. (Some people appeared to be “shopping” before items were collected…interesting tactic…)

Too warm? Donate your layers! Or shop, whichever…

Finally, we were cruising along, four of us pumping at a great speed-walk pace. People really have fun with this huge event – both participants and bystanders. We passed some awesome costumes: gorillas, bananas, a clown-Elvis, lots of tutus, and a wide variety of homemade team shirts. My favorite said “Run like Luke Bryan is at the finish line”, even though these gals were walking…still creative!

I knew I forgot something – my banana suit!

People on the sidelines were selling goodies, cheering on the racers with posters, and dancing to the live bands.  Volunteers along the way handed out water and the amount of cups littering the road was astounding! As was the sheer size of the crowd – for a girl used to spending her days with a computer, Ponderosa trees and a snoring mutt, the crowd was immense!

We had a great time, while making ourselves quite sore. Speed-walking for 7.5 miles used muscles I apparently don’t use often, and my hips were super achey. J’s sister and I jogged a bit towards the end just to move different muscles. We powered up the infamous Doomsday Hill like champs, though, and got to pass a whole bunch more people who stopped to take pictures of the weird vulture costume at the top.

This shows the impending Doomsday Hill as well as the crowd – see how the mass of people can be seen all the way up the hill as it winds up to the right?!

Creep-tastic. And why are all you people stopping? I thought this was a race?!

The race took us a total of 2 hours, 6 minutes, and 24 seconds. The Bloomsday website has all sorts of fun stats we got to look up the next day.  For instance, I came in 27,975th place! Keep in mind, that’s out of about 47,000 people who finished. My time up Doomsday was 6:18 (not sure if that’s good or bad…), and I placed 2nd (! now you can cheer!) among the 4 people who finished from Trout Lake!! (J was first place!)

Hot, sweaty, and happy as clams. My favorite, though: the sweet photo-bomb by J’s sister! High-five!

I got an aewsome tshirt when we finally crossed the finish line that I got to show off at lunch with our other buddies that ran. I also got almost 3 hours of bonding with the girls and finally get to say I’ve completed a race. Now I’m super pumped for my half marathon and even got up at 5:30 in the morning to go running with my bestie in Bend on Tuesday.

Pretty sure this makes me at least a little bit awesome.

My results…and proof I didn’t make the whole thing up!

Spring? Is that You? Nice of You to Join Us.

Finally May, and Spring just might actually be here. Well, at my house anyway. I’m ignoring all the reports of snow and ice elsewhere in the country. It’s sunny and 63 degrees in my corner of the world, so who cares?! (I kid, I kid.)

But the tell-tale signs are there – happy daffodils dancing in the breeze, winter-dormant bushes and trees exploding buds from every branch, twitterpated little birdies flitting about too early in the morning. Last weekend at my bestie’s birthday bash, we sat out on the deck of the cabin we were renting and enjoyed the sunshine all afternoon. It was a bit cooler than today, but still nice.

I’ve even lost my mind and attacked my house in a crazy whirlwind of spring cleaning. (This can’t be good for my health.) Living in a big, old house has it’s disadvantages. Like forty billion corners for spiders to build webs in, and dirt from half a century ago hiding in odd spots. Thankfully, J and I aren’t slobs and my deep cleaning should last a while. I don’t know how often I can scrub the bathroom ceiling without toppling off the chair or sink – odds are, it’s bound to happen eventually!

But the house is looking gorgeous, the yard is looking gorgeous, and Simba and I sat in the grass in a nice patch of sunshine for a solid 5 minutes today. My coworkers in the office take smoke breaks, I take sunshine breaks.

Sun shiney daffodil – it’s glowing!!

I am a little bit sad that ski season is over, and I’m probably more surprised than anyone that such a statement would ever come from me. But I finally have an AMAZING gear set-up (minus poles, I never did get a set…) and was super amped up to become a ski pro. (It only takes a couple days on the mountain to be an expert, right?) I’m glad we managed to squeeze in 3 days of spring skiing, but it’s over, and I’m left whining about it.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not sad winter is over. No no, old man winter definitely overstayed his welcome this year. I love living in a place that sees more seasons that hot, really hot, unbearably hot, and 2 seconds of slightly chilly (I grew up in Texas), but I’m not crazy about 6 months of winter, either. At least I still get to hit the mountains, but now I’ll be in my hiking boots and back-pack!! Look out Adams, here I come!

In celebration of my favorite season and my middle name, here are a few more photos of flowers and new growth. There are no people in them because I live in the middle of nowhere. C’mon, now.

I love a good set of new leaves

And then BAM! new buds

Nice pop of color while I wait for the lupines to bloom

And since he’s a fantastic model and posed so patiently for me, here’s a nice shot of my darling mutt.

My handsome boy!

I hope your spring is going well. I’m off to enjoy this gorgeous weather with my fabulous weekend guests – stay tuned!

Happy Dirty Thirty, Ashlee Jean!!

Dear friends of the interwebs, today I am detouring from my normal tales of misadventures to tell you about someone other than me. That’s right, today I’m turning the spotlight away from myself to tell you about my bestie.

You actually already know a bit about her, if you’ve been in the audience a while. Her name is Ashlee Jean, and she is my best friend. And tomorrow, we celebrate her 30th year of gracing this planet with her presence.

Partner in crime, bosom buddy, sister-from-another-mister, bestie, bff, travel companion, adventure partner, soul sista, roommate, and gal pal. She carries many titles.

I’ve know this incredible woman for years. We began as coworkers, becoming friends in between the cash registers and angry customers of Best Buy. What a lifetime ago that seems, but it was actually only about 8 eons years ago. In that short span, I have got to know her, come to love her, and now I don’t know what I would do without her.

As college kids in central Texas, we often hit up 6th St in Austin and floated the lazy rivers on weekends, bonding over bar-b-que and smokey dancehalls. Right after college, we became roomies and inevitably close friends. There have been gaps over the years where we moved apart, relying on phone conversations and facebook to keep in touch, but keep in touch we have. Whew!

I was going to tell you a few reasons why this lovely lady is so amazing, but that could take days, and this needs to get published today. So I’ll just rattle off a few…

She has a heart the size of Jupiter, for one thing, overflowing with generosity, compassion and kindness. Her inner beauty shines all over the place, touching so many people around her. I don’t know a single person that dislikes her or has a single unkind thing to say about her. (And if anyone happens to do either, I’ll punch you in the face. OBVIOUSLY you are a misguided individual.) And that’s all I have to say about that.

I just love her!

She has done so much for me over the course of our friendship, and we’ve seen each other through many trials, tribulations, milestones and mishaps. From college finals, to graduations, to breaking up with losers boyfriends and even breaking up with the Lone Star State, Ashlee was there. We’ve gone through a lot of the same stuff and shared a lot of experiences, and the pictures on facebook prove it. No matter how thick and thin, superficial or deep as the Mariana Trench, she listens, she encourages, she inspires.  She is amazing for having the right thing to say, the right response, the tough love. It’s amazing to me that I’m so lucky as to have her in my life. (And she hasn’t even ordered a restraining order against me. Yet.)

See, we were young once…

I love looking back at the memories we’ve made. I remember the day she told me about this new dude she met, a cool cat she wanted to spend more time with and get to know. They’ve been married almost a year now. I was a bridesmaid.

Celebrating another life milestone together. Have you ever seen such a beautiful bride?!

She also happened to be there the night I met J, and it was Ashlee who told me to quit my whining and go meet him for a second/first date a few days later. Boy am I glad that worked out! About the time Ashlee moved in with her now-husband, I moved up to Twisp with J. Ashlee and Morgan were the first (and almost the only) visitors to our remote neck of the woods, and I was delighted to show off my new set of mountains.

North Cascades, meet Ashlee. Ashlee, meet the North Cascades.

Ashlee was also my tour guide for most things PNW. I would never have even made it to Oregon if it wasn’t for her! She moved to Bend first, had a 2-bedroom apartment, I needed a place to move to, so I asked her if there was room for me, too. Despite the teeniest little 2-bedroom apartment you’ve ever seen, she said “of course!” and I moved right in. Once here, we explored our vast new playground together, just a couple Texas girls trying to drink craft beer (“You really don’t serve Coors Lite?”), hike in the mountains (“Do we ever get to go downhill?”) and not freeze to death (“Is it alright to wear 4 pairs of socks at once?”). We camped together, hiked together, skiied together, and flopped down in the white frozen fluff for the required snow angels together (it’s a TX thing, apparently). Amazingly, through all our mishaps and misadventures, we have (so far) survived. Somehow.

Showing me the ropes on my first overnight back-pack trip.

It was only October. Locals were in t-shirts.

Now that she’s survived her 20′s, I’m sure only amazing things await in her 30′s. I can only hope to be there, sharing in the shananigans. Everyone needs a pal like this gal. She’s like family to me, almost like an older sister. She’s traveled the world, completed her Master’s degree, finished several triathlons and races, and works harder at both her career and living life than anyone I know – definitely a role model for anyone. If you haven’t met Ashlee yet, I highly recommend it. She’ll probably have you convinced to try something new in the first 10 minutes or so. Especially if you buy her coffee.

“When things don’t always go right, it’s nice to have someone like you on my left.”

Happy Birthday, darlin’!!

You Don’t Have To Care

I’ll warn you right now, what lies ahead is likely to bore you to tears, and many exclamation marks are sure to block the road despite my better judgement. But I can’t help it – I’m so frikin’ excited!! (Think Kristen Wigg as “Sue” on SNL…)

I told you a few weeks ago about my lapse in sanity that caused me to register for a half marathon. Well, I freaked out and started running. I committed to three runs a week (as in I told my Google calendar to hit the eject button on my chair every other day) and started channeling Forrest Gump. The first few runs were a bit rough, I have to admit. Not quite 3 miles the first couple days and I almost DIED.

But I’m proud to tell you I kept going. Today was my ninth run (3 runs for 3 weeks) and I ran FIVE MILES!! No walking, in the drizzly crap weather, the dog and J for company, and we RAN! How AMAZING is that?!

Truth.

So with all this running has come … enlightenment and revelation. For starters, I have pretty terrible form (hence the photo above). My knees are pretty jacked and I have a feeling that could be why. Or it could have something to do with my shoes, which have so many holes I might need to call them “sandals” soon. But running is giving me time to think: about me, life in general, my dog’s weird little tail that bounces up and down as he trots along ahead of me. I ponder things such as whether J and I should move into White Salmon, did I remember toilet paper at the store yesterday, do I have a meeting today or was it pushed to next week? Do these capris hide the jiggle of my thighs as the one car of the day passes, and why do I care? Have my parents seen any crazy tornadoes yet, and did J remember to call his momma, and how can I even begin to fathom what just happened in Boston and West, TX, this week??

One section of our route is through dense trees that give us shade and a nice breeze. It’s this section of our runs where I found my muse hiding, and she decided to follow me home. Ideas, characters and stories flow from my imagination to the cadence of my feet hitting the pavement. If only I could record my thoughts for later! (Selectively, of course…) Plot twists swirl around my grey matter as I stare off into space, grateful for the peace and quiet of the forest and the lack of traffic on the road. It’s been amazing for my peace of mind and my stress levels!

And I try to heed the advice of my bestie: focus on each step, focus on why I’m doing this – for ME, not for anyone else. I don’t have to be fast, I don’t have to meet anyone else’s expectations, I just have to get my butt out of my chair and my feet into my sneakers. When I do, the days that I run, my endorphins skyrocket and the afternoons go by so much faster! I’m getting more done at work and even being productive around the house in the evenings!

The Scariest Thing EVER might just be turning into the best thing ever. It’s only been three weeks and I’ve already come so far, in attitude as much as in my physical capabilities. So while you may not give two shakes that I ran 5 miles today, I do. And I’m learning that I’m the one that counts.

Hair of the Dog

Ah, old sayings. I just love ‘em. My Mississippi Grannie used to have the best ones. “I’m sweating beans!” was always a fav. This one, however, “the hair of the dog”, was unknown to me until my college years…maybe because I didn’t need it before then.

Yesterday, the meaning phrase took on a whole new meaning, thanks to my actual dog (rather than the metaphorical one that bit me in the face on Saturday). Whoa, hold it, on second thought, I should tell you about that one first. The fact is, yesterday I was ferociously hung over. How did I get there? Well now, that usually is the question, isn’t it.

It all started with one of my besties, Nic-o-li. (Of course that’s not her real name, but I need something to differentiate my many besties…) She conquered the snow-covered Mt Hood from Bend, early in the morning, to meet her other friend So, and I was invited to join the party (since I live here already…). Nic, So and I met at Starbucks and mapped out our War Path. Our mission: drink of the sweet nectar of as many wineries as possible while suffering the least amount of casualties possible.

If you don’t know about the Columbia Gorge that slices the border between Oregon and Washington, there’s just one fact you need: we grow some damn fine grapes up in here! I’m not sure who to believe on the exact number, but it’s something ridiculous, like 40 wineries in a 40-mile stretch. The climate and the soils and the stars all align to make this area a grape-haven. And this past weekend was Passport Weekend, where you buy this $15 “passport” and you get all sorts of deals and free tastings and complimentary tattoos (fake, of course). Woooo!

I have to admit up front that I’m not a wine-o in the sense that I know the first thing about wine. Well, unless you count the fact that I like to drink it. That I know ALL about. But Nic and So know lots and lots about wine, so they were like my personal tour guides into the fabulous world of Barberas, oak barrels and proper cork technique. And away we went!

Nic, So, and me, chilling with the vines!

We started at 11am…it was a long day. But also crazy amounts of fun!! We were served amazing snacks and tasted all sorts of incredible wines and each bought our favorites along the way. The most fun of all: my companions, duh! The party was us, and everyone had a blast with us everywhere we went.

The moral of this story is quite simple: fabulous women get you fabulously drunk. Old news!

So yesterday…oh yesterday. I woke with a train thundering through my brain, driven by a nice pinot noir. J and I had wanted to go skiing – didn’t happen. I thought about attacking my spring cleaning – didn’t happen. Due to the crazy-insane weather, Simba’s morning walk didn’t really happen, either. But I did crawl from my bed to his, where it was dark, and warm, and full of snuggly mutt…..and covered in hair. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, even in my condition I had to chuckle at the word play.

In an effort to return to the human race, I agreed to go on a hike with J. I know I know, stupid right? But the sun had come out and Simba wanted to go SO BAD. It took me most of the day to work up to it, but we finally made it outside around mid-afternoon. J picked a hike for us down on the Columbia a little to the east…away from the impending thunderheads. I got out of the car dizzy and nauseous from the curvy roads. We headed straight up into the cliffs and I couldn’t help but think…maybe I should have found the REAL hair of the dog before embarking on this little journey.

But soon the views and the cool winds and the ecstatic look on Simba’s handsome little face changed my mind. This was just what I needed! And the wildflowers were blooming, just as a bonus!!

Who could resist that sweet face?! Not me.

So I got my “hair of the dog” in a different sense than what the saying means. I choose to leave all the bottles of wine that made it home with me safely corked/sealed/out of reach on top of the fridge. Instead, I literally covered myself in the hair of my beloved pooch. We rolled in the tall grass, he ran and ran, we rested on top of bluffs with the wind in our hair. And by the end of the day, his hair was all over me. And somehow or another, I felt so much better.

That being said, let me regale you with pictures of the best looking dog on the planet!!

Nose to the wind

Trotting through the little oak trees, happy as a clam!

This is his “did you see how FAST I RAN?!” face. My fav!

Ok, just three. And then there were the views we got to enjoy as I slowly came back to life:

Makes the climb worth it!

Until our next adventure, adios amigos!!

I Mustache You, How Was Your Weekend?

Mine was great, thanks f0r asking!! And now I must break the tragic news: I have joined the Cult Of The ‘Stache.

Oh, come on, you know, the Cult Of The ‘Stache – all these people who have suddenly become groupies of upper-lip facial hair, though not usually on men. They wear them on t-shirts and necklaces and facebook profile pictures. They buy fake ones in sticker form and temporary tattoo form alike. I’m not sure how the Cult started or which hipster is to blame, but the phenomenon has swept our nation – it is now fashionable for women to sport a handlebar, besides the one attached to her fixie.

You can slap a ‘stache on anything these days.

How did I come to belong to such a … facetious group? Well, my friends, it all started one dark and stormy April evening around a game of cards….

You see, last weekend our good pals from Wenatchee and Twisp came to visit. You’ve heard me brag about wild and crazy times with these cats before – we’ll call them M&M, JT, and AmS. So they arrive Friday night, meet us for dinner and a wild night out in Hood River (ha, just kidding, everything closed by 8pm) where we found dinner, beer, and a penis through a door (It was displayed as part of an ART SHOW in a WINE TASTING ROOM, I kid you not. We were as surprised as you are.). We finally made it home and crawled off to bed, prepping for a big day Saturday.

After breakfast, we set out on a great and perilous journey up into the wilds of Mount Hood. After parking and piling on as many layers as we could, we braved the near-blizzard conditions to conquer the slopes of Meadows Ski Hill. The lifts weren’t too crowded, the snow pretty fresh, but the gusts of wind that could (and WOULD) blow us back-wards and uphill – now that’s something I just wasn’t expecting. To be facing downhill with freshly waxed skis strapped firmly to my fancy new boots (shout out to my sweet pea! thanks honey) and yet NOT be moving downward, well it was trippy to say the least. I discovered I’m not fond of swinging chairlifts or having my face blasted with sleet, but we still managed to force a mega-ton of fun out of the day. The combo of my boots that felt like angel-kisses on every little toe and my high-tech skis that are probably smarter than me had me feeling like I was border-line expert…which did me no good and had me hurting in no time. But what a blast!! It was so much more fun to cruise the terrain of the greens and blues and get to ride the lifts with my buddies on skis than to attempt to connect a few turns and slam myself repeatedly into the mountain while pretending to snowboard. High-five for that good decision!

Once we’d finally had enough (and the hill was closing) we made a detour to Government Camp for a slice of famous huckleberry pie. SO worth it. Then back down across the river to our house to let poor Simba out to pee. Despite the busy day  and collective exhaustion of the group, we had one last event to partake in before darkness settled: our annual Easter Egg Beer Hunt (a week late so our friends could join in). J painted and hid an assortment of beer, wine and liquor around the yard and let loose a bunch of crazy adults who’s competitive streaks suddenly reared their ugly heads. Four intelligent, successful, grown adults took off across the yard, pushing, yelling, grabbing, tricking their way to the hidden prizes like a group of rabid coyotes chasing after bunnies hidden in the grass. I would just like to point out that I may or may not have scored the most teeny liquor bottles (baby Pendleton-what what!!) but M&M is the brave soul who climbed the ladder to get the beer she doesn’t even like perched on the second-story window sill. She also found the bottle of wine, and JT rescued a delightful Bud Light with Clamato. AmS was the only other one besides me who was a veteran from last year, and she was in fine form as she checked trees and flowerbeds and tried tricking M&M away from her loot.

Action shot of me and some of my winnings!

Up she goes!

Winner winner chicken dinner! Really, we all win in this game…

After the day of skiing, followed by a wacky evening of hunting for booze in the backyard, you can image how zonked we all were. So we settled in for a night of enjoying our spoils and screaming at each other over some heated games of cards. I hope you’re still with me – this is the important part. AmS poured us girls some wine, JT dealt the cards, the fun reaching astronomical levels. Then came the faux fur stickers – who even brought these in the house?! Slowly, one by one, each of us ladies donned the itchy fashion statement – black curled mustaches for all the world to see.

And we felt fabulous. Maybe it was that 4th glass of wine talking, but I just couldn’t believe we hadn’t worn them all day long. I mean, c’mon, get a load of this bucket of hotness!!!

The Cult’s latest recruits

Another awesome weekend with amazing friends, down in the books. And if anyone asks, Simba enjoyed every second of his involvement.