ACK! My hands have finally stopped shaking. My breathing has returned to normal. My heart has stopped racing. And I can finally see straight because...I am back online. Yes - I survived my 3 days in the mountains with very little Internet but OMG y'all, I have some kind of problem.
So yeah...upon checking in I ask the lovely old lady behind the counter if there's wireless in the cabin (because after all, I did have my laptop with me). She looked at me funny because WHO THE HELL COMES TO THE MOUNTAINS TO SIT IN THEIR ROOM ONLINE? Yeah. Not me. Swear. Just a few things I want to check. While I ice my knee. I mean- I am going to be in the room anyways...As it turns out, no Internet in the rooms but there is Internet in the main building. Strike 1.
Strike 2? NO FUCKING CELL SERVICE. The Crackberry was pretty much useless because cell service was spotty at best and a matter of mere inches - Hell, fractions of inches - meant the difference between being able to DO ANYTHING on my phone and not do a damn thing. Oh I went through serious withdrawl and truth be told...when I finally managed to get enough signal to check my Yahoo and saw 53 UNREAD emails I panicked, dragged my laptop to the main building and plugged in. Then I breathed a sigh of relief.
As it is, I am mostly caught up on some stuff, not remotely caught up on others and have decided that there is no way in Hell I can read through 60+ hours of missed Tweets. If you Tweeted anything awesome between Monday morning and 3pm yesterday, DM me please.
Withdrawl issues asides, the mountains were lovely and COLD and OMG I wore my first fall sweater and we had fires and I ate soup and I went for an amazing hike where I totally left all of my male co-workers in the dust. Seriously, I reached the summit and waited 15 minutes before the 2 sent on to find me finally made it. Am total hiking badass. Natch. Also? I was tired of listening to them talk about peeing outside and teaching their sons to pee outside. Puh-Leeze. Get over it.
So I forgot to bring my camera on the hike, but this is the massive peak I scaled in less than an hour. And that takes into account my having to stop on several occasions so the boys could catch up with me. Badass. I am a badass.
And last night after dinner we were down at the bar and then we went outside and they built us this awesome fire in a pit and then I had the bright idea to make s'mores and found one of the managers and OMG y'all - they totally had crap for s'mores and so yeah...we were roasting marshmallows and it was generally awesome.
ACK! The last 3 days I have been on a pancake-pie-fried chicken wing-country ham-wine diet. It's a lot of fun but OMG...need to detox. On all counts.
ACK! The work peeps found me. I think. I can't tell. Here's the deal. I finally had a chance to log onto Sitemeter and was reviewing traffic for the last few days when I noticed someone had been on today for ~ 20 minutes and viewed 8 pages. That's pretty substantial for my wee little blog and so I clicked on the link to get more details. That's when I saw it. The ISP address. Registered to MY FIRM. OMG! OMG! OMG Y'ALL!!!` The one thing in this world I am most terrified of (besides raw chicken, being buried alive and losing my parents). CRAP.
What happened next was a blur. There was some early-stage rationalization - like perhaps it wasn't MY work peeps. Perhaps it was someone else on the other side of the firm who found me because I do have some fans in Asheville and my sex with the sidewalk story is kind of legendary. Maybe it was about Country Girl and not the girl behind Country Girl. Then I wondered if in a moment of cabernet-marshmallow induced madness I actually told the work peeps about my wee little blog. Surely not. Then again marshmallows and cabernet are a deadly combination. Then I wondered if the work peeps had actually gone into work today or just headed home from the mountains. At the end of the day, I have no idea who exactly found me. And if they even know it's me. But I am pretty sure Elastigirl has been revealed. Oh - the real kick in the pants? The exit click was to my Twitter. Hello work peeps: meet Rougeneck.
But here's the thing: I LOVE MY WORK PEEPS. Truly. These last few days with them have been awesome and I even suggested to a friend of mine on my way home that I could share this with them because they are cool and some of them have worse language then I do and clearly I am not the only one who enjoys imbibing so...yeah...why NOT tell them? It's not like I am out killing puppies or proselytizing Satanism or promoting something illegal or DOING ANYTHING WRONG. There is no reference to where I work, who I work for or what I do (other than my sharing with you that I am a Director of...) and so WHY THE HELL AM I SO FUCKING PANICKED???
ACK! The cherry on the sundae known as my day yesterday...I came home to roadkill right in front of my mailbox. I wasn't going to take a picture. Really I wasn't. Those beady, black eyes staring at me were totally freaking me out. But in the end, I caved, because hello darling readers, I have your best interest at heart. That said: not for the faint of heart.
Click here to meet the dead little bastard.
And here's the problem: while I totally have no problems castrating goats, I don't fucking do roadkill.
And if that ain't country, I'll kiss your...
5 hours ago