And it's from The Highlander that I'm reporting to you on my rest day. I'm taking a very necessary respite from the rigors of climbing. After two days on the rock, the skin on my fingers felt like it had been caressing the business end of a cheese grater. My back felt like it had seen one too many kicks from steel toed boots, and my forearms were Popeye sized; not from muscle, but lactic acid buildup.
Aside from working on Abaluba, I was working for a large part of the day to catch up with clients back in Denver. What better activity, since I've got to sit idle anyway, than to make a little money? Let's all take a minute to thank the benefactors that gave us cell phones, the internet, and Adobe Acrobat. Without their hard work and tireless pursuit of Rupees, I'd be stranded out here in the wilds of Kentucky with only the sale of my plasma, organs and semen as viable means of income. As it stands, I've kept all of them to myself, thank you very much, all the while scratching up some billable hours from the comfort of the cabin and my pajama pants.
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(A stranger on Belly of the Beast)
I'm hoping to meet up with another friend, Christopher Lawrence, tomorrow out at the crag. He and I met basically a year ago to the day out here in The Red. He's a pro photographer who is looking to take a few shots, and with some luck, I'll have something other than the hand held images from my small point and shoot camera.
1 comment:
"Business end of a cheese grater": that's a keeper.
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