boys will be boys

When they see salt on the ground,

they will pick it up and proceed to...

you guessed it: put it in their mouth.

Sometimes off the bottom of their shoe.

Jagged rocks? No problem.

Harvest is easy with dirty fingers. Every time you ask if anyone would like Purell, they will impolitely refuse. "Who uses that stuff anyway?"

Although their faces give it away, they'll feign delight and try to pressure you into joining them. "Come on, you gotta try it! When else are you going to do this?" 

Possibly never, boys. Probably never.

dante's view

Sometimes we need to get away, to a place where we are minimized - quite literally. We need to be reminded how small we are. Take our eyes off ourselves, our problems, our fears, our pain, shifting our attention instead to the world - to those around us, their issues, their needs, and how we can be the answer.

How we blend in with the tiniest of rocks pebbles in the big picture of mountain ranges. 

Even the vehicles that transport us from A to B, prove our 'worth' as status symbols, and can kill us when maneuvered carelessly are nothing but little speckles. Specklettes? ¡Speckelitos! Okay I'm done.

sneak peek parte dos

There's no chronology here. Just a jumble of belated photos. Today, we continue the preview of #ontheroadwithdumbanddumber.

looking out at 75 mph

As with all trips, time came to leave behind all the snow and go home.

Commence five hours of singing, rapping, ridiculous games, and taking photos of the road (for me, and ducking out of the way for the poor passengers in the truck - sorry, and thanks guys). 

I had no idea the route from Mammoth to SoCal would be so scenic! Windy roads through mountains and deserts... much better than the usually bleak miles and miles of absolutely nothing from LA to the Bay on the I-5. Eyes glued to the windows - occasionally rotating from left to right to front to back - I realized how much of California I have yet to see. Oh you state of many sights, you.  

war

Stills from a wintertime feud, a long, long time ago--

My sincere apologies for the utter lack of excellence in the images - twas my first time shooting war, and I was not armed with proper weaponry. Hopefully I'll have a telephoto handy to capture the action next time.

As a blizzard cut short Day Two of snowboarding, chaos ensued in the woods of Mammoth Lakes. I firsthand witnessed

attack,

ambush,

retreat,

grieving,

savagery,

and casualty.

Alliances disbanded left and right, and pandemonium quickly escalated into a hot cold mess. 

And in the midst of it all,

joy.

a trip too mammoth

I'm okay at some sports, and not bad at others. Snowboarding? None of the above.
The answer is H) a huge slice of humble pie. One I almost choked on.

Up until this point - December 17, 2014 to be exact - I used to think I was athletic. Nope. This fateful day changed everything. A month and a half later, I am still in awe of how much I suck at snowboarding.

Being a prideful piece of flesh, I hate quitting. Whatever the task may be, I push myself to the limits, sometimes letting the competitive Christine take over and secretly intending to "outdo" others. This day, however, my body (perhaps more so my mind and ego) was in so much pain that I gave up - I would not return the next day, even though everyone else would enjoy boarding part two.

What a physically taxing (and literally tear-jerking) way to learn. Musings on independence versus community to follow. But for now, I end by honoring my heroes.

I owe my survival on this day to coaches of the year and champions of patience

Connie and

Trevmo. 

Thank you for saving my butt, and for not giving up on me! You guys are life savers.