would you like to ride in my beautiful balloon?
Skewed logic - between the headache, the toothache, and the pneumonia-like symptoms, it took five aspirin, a cold pack, and a monstrous effort...to leave the house for a twelve-mile hike up and around Mount Lowe. All by myself.
At this point, I'd like to offer middle-finger-bearing thanks to my beautiful marines, who long ago engendered the kind of hardassiness in soft little me that would have called me a foppish little pussy for staying home today. Semper fi, and fucking ouch.
You guys will be happy to hear that the hike seems to have cleared me right up. Que miraculo, eh? Doesn't make a lot of sense. It must be the magic that's up there...again today, I didn't feel alone for one step.
At the very top of Mount Lowe, I looked down upon my lovely city, spread before me; I could see the wind come down and tickle the belly of the valley, and the same sun that turned the spindly yucca to the colour of my hair was spilling red over the ocean. And it happened again...a sense of home - of belonging - washed over me like a warm wave, evening my sands again as it pulled away. The word "home" is hard for a girl like me; it's deeply foreign in many ways, and more of a moment than a constant, but those moments are worth the wait.