IDAHO AND THE RULES OF SHOTGUN

It got off to a rocky start.  I clearly established myself as the only shotgun candidate with the other kids Kip generously offered rides to.  We were all set to go, with just one other passenger to pick up.  I was situated in my front seat, not squished, legs stretched, not worried about getting car sick. 

Kip jumped out to help our last passenger with her luggage (more than me– you’re getting the idea about her already), and yells to me, “Holls get in the back.”  Yeah, right, I thought, proud of myself for making sure I had legally claimed my spot with the “shotgun-no-battle” rule.  But our passenger walked straight to the front of the car and began jostling her handluggage all up in my grill.  “yeah, thanks, I have an irrational fear of the back seat,” she says.  Key word being IRRATIONAL.  What exactly was her fear, I wondered?  I know, I know, she was probably in a horrific back-seat-accident at some point in time.  Still, I was irriatated, and spent the majority of the journey practicing the art of telepathic combat as she loudly shot over-used jokes at every interaction that occured.  I think it was the most bratty I’ve been (in my head) in a long time.  But when you’re dealing with a loud, crocheting seat stealer for 5 hours, can you really blame me?

The rest of the weekend was complete and unexpected fun.  Alastair, Lain and I began the endless laughter of the weekend as we watched Kip’s naked figure in the far distance streak across the sand dunes. 

It was a busy weekend for Kip actually.  Here he is, longloading while being pulled by the car (20 miles an hour!) through the Teton mountains.  Please note his safety conscious foil covered (also alien-proof) helmet.

And here he is with Alastair after they sledded down a snowy slope…on beach beds… semi-naked…

[Let’s flash-back to high school for an incredibly similar photograph… not much has changed…]

We drove through the mountains that bordered Idaho and Wyoming.  Here’s Al and his cute wife to prove it:

When we finally made it back to Rexberg after a day of adventure, we went and played soccer.  Well, they played soccer and I did a lot of this:

(sitting around and not really watching).  I was fortunate to capture this though:

After church the next day (note: attending a newlywed ward as a single person is really awkward.  We dashed out as soon as the last Amen was said, narrowly escaping the eager welcoming committee who no doubt had a barrage of “how did you meet??” questions for Kip and me), we climbed a bloody MOUNTAIN.  This is probably my LEAST favourite thing- I just don’t enjoy it.  I know this will disappoint many of you, but I just don’t care.  Here’s my case: it’s horrid.  It’s the same awful activity and it hurts and it’s terrible.  At the gym you can change your activity every 15 minutes and enjoy the cool AC and take trips to the water fountain whenever.  Climbing mountains affords no such pleasures.  When we got to the top, we flew kites (Kip got mad at me for letting mine crash a lot.  I said he should chill; I would give him the 50cents that the plastic kite cost) and grilled the tastiest chicken I’ve even eaten!

Add to the weekend plenty of the Mighty Boosh, and it was really quite perfect!  Thanks Al and Lain for the classic times, the crazy days 🙂

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One comment

  1. Yeah, I am pretty awsome

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