...from the historical shoeboxes of shredding!
Last night? An envelope of pictures from the time I climbed Mt Marcy (highest peak in the Adirondacks! ha!). That was August 1998. I remember being not pleased with the photographs at the time. I mean, I was wearing an oversized bright orange--like crossing guard orange--windbreaker in them, which I suppose might have come in handy had I needed to be airlifted out of there, but it was not the most attractive or flattering of all possible garments. Now I look at those eleven year old pictures and think how young and cute I was then. Sigh. Also, there I am at the top of that freaking mountain, and I am smiling at the camera as if my quads were not totally destroyed. That's another wonderment. There's also a (rare) photo of me and my ex-whatever-he-was together at the peak, so apparently we suckered some other poor fool with destroyed quads to take one while we posed.
Blast from the proverbial past, dudes!
xoxo
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