Last night I couldn't sleep very well because....my feet hurt. I have no idea why litter picking bothered my feet so much last night, but I was darned near crippled by the time I got home. Then, because I'd had the great idea earlier in the day to fashion an outdoor clothesline and launder all my bedding and dry it outdoors for that great outdoorsy fresh smell, I had to haul the mattress pad, sheets, and blanket all the way upstairs with my sore feet complaining every step and make my bed.
Easy enough for a twin bed, but mine is a king size. And my feet hurt, which makes it a double king size. I have this little this going about aspirin and any other kind of pain relievers, so I didn't take anything for the sore feet. I rolled around, whining and sniveling for a lo-o-o-o-ng time. I remember seeing 3:20 on the clock face. Then, I kept waking up from really disturbing dreams--the kind you're really happy to learn were just dreams.
When I finally did get up my feet still hurt--the top of the arches. What's all that about? So, I limped around here getting a few things done, which I really have to do because I'm leaving Thursday morning with my truck and travel trailer. I'm off to Homer for the Kachemak Bay Writer's Conference (it's affiliated with the University of Alaska), and then I'm hopping over the bay to Halibut Cove for a few days.
About four in the afternoon, I thought about going litter picking. I had intended to not go these last two days before my trip, because--as I said--I have THINGS I HAVE TO GET DONE HERE. Then I remembered that every time I go litter picking, I lose weight. So I went. I crave the exercise I get. I love being outdoors along that highway. I must be sick.
And, I went back to Silvertip and started where I'd left off last night. At various places, Six Mile Creek comes close to the highway, and this is what I saw:
Now, these photos aren't as exciting as the ones in the Anchorage Daily News this morning (You did check the link, didn't you?), and they are taken a ways upstream of that wringer washer I showed you in that post down below. So I'm guessing these kayakers are either playing with that white water, or practicing their survival skills for what's ahead of them. By the way, the current is coming from the top of the photo towards you. The kayakers are holding in that quiet back eddy, then paddling into the white water one by one.
But anyway, doesn't that look like fun? I would have loved getting pictures of them going through the wringer washer, but there was no way I could get back there before they went through. Another time.
Anyway, sore feet and all I picked up another mile of highway. And I'm not going tomorrow. I really have to get my act together here.
I will agree that you're sick. I can do that because I suffer from the same mental illness. When there's something positive to gain, we ignore our body's voice to reach our goal. Why else would I do biathlons and triathlons? I can't be in my right mind, right?
ReplyDeleteWe can still write so all's well.