Today, we were on our way out of the apartment, headed to the grocery store for some food. It’s nice and cool and the skies were blue, and Natania said, “This would be a perfect day to go to the mountains.” And so, we did.
For the bridal shower, Natania got a really great pic-a-nic basket (Hey, Boo Boo!) and we went by the Teet, which thinks it is our “Neighborhood Food Market,” and got some fried chicken, some cheese and crackers, a bag of beef jerky, and some p?t?. Then it was off to Pilot Mountain.
We hiked and ate and had a good ol’ time. I’m breaking in a pair of hiking boots that I’ve had for nearly four years now, except that it’s not the shoes I’m breaking in; it’s my feet. I now have a huge blister on one heel, and a bruised ankle. Eventually, though, I hope to get in shape enough to hike Cold Mountain near Asheville, and turning my pasty, soft feet into gnarled and knotty bark-skinned eaters-of-miles is top of the list.
Here is a photograph of a mushroom. This mushroom is, evidently, very special, as it had its own spotlight:
Also, what looks like a tobacco curing shack right at the entrance of the park. May be original, may not:
And since I’m unloading my camera, here is a photograph of my cousin at the beach. He is asleep. It is 6:30pm, and everyone has gone in:
A shirt, taken at a store in Wilmington, NC. I’m rather shocked and insulted by it, but, then again, I don’t buy Levi’s. I guess these colors do run. Run into a computer, plopped into a database, and taken right out of your checking account.
Anyway, that’s it for me.
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