Last night I had a dream that I was hiking with Nancy Reagan. I have nothing funny to say about it. She was a pretty good hiking companion considering that she’s like ninety years old. Not surprisingly we didn’t have a lot to talk about, but sometimes you don’t really want to talk a lot while you’re out there in nature.
I was a little upset though because she had gotten a job as a gear-tester for Backpacker Magazine and I was jealous that she had scored such a sweet gig. She had all this cool new stuff and she was using a GoLite Jam pack (which I TOTALLY WANT but can’t justify spending the $150 bucks on). Stupid Nancy Reagan.
At one point she wanted to give me a trail name and she wanted it to be “Dandelion” and I had to ask her exactly what kind of dirty hippie she took me for. Otherwise we managed to avoid talking about politics, which is good because it means I didn’t have to scream at an old lady, which – despite appearances – I do not actually enjoy diong that much.
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