Valentine's Day 2009. A day for lovers and unbridled lust. Unfortunately my love spent the previous day working an 8-hour shift at her job at a school of hormone crazed delinquents followed by another 12-hour shift at a hospital. Needless to say, by the time she came back to my lair of love her unbridled passions tended toward sleep than me. OH well, for a guy of my years, the tern 'unbridled' speaks more of the possibility of of hernias and slipped discs than love anyway. In lieu of risking such injuries I decided to take my two labradors retrievers on a 16 mile skijor and investigate the Nugget Creek cabin inside the Chena River State Recreational Area.
Glistening sunny skies greeted us at the trail-head at about 1:30 PM. The temperature was in the single digits above zero and a couple of inches of fresh snow softened the trail's tread. The trail quickly crosses the main fork of the Chena River and then snakes through the taiga, roughly paralleling the South Fork as it winds its way into the distant hills. It seemed a perfect day, not too cold or warm and the only sign of other human life were two sets of boot prints accompanied by a set of dog prints heading in the same direction we traveled, which I presume were made by the people staying at the cabin. At about the 3-mile mark a skinny bodied and long-tailed cross fox darted across the trail into the surrounding brush but it escaped the notice of my dogs and thus caused no excitement. Except for the gurgling calls of the occasional scavenging raven the forest was winter quiet and devoid of obvious life. I carried my .22 cal Browning pistol which I hoped might bag a ptarmigan or grouse for the dogs excitement but no such opportunity arose. At about mile-6 I noticed my stomach cramping but I chose to I chose to ignore the discomfort.. At about mile-7 the trail took a sharp dip into a ravine and the dogs dutifully broke into a full run so that I would not run them. At the very bottom of the ravine the scraggly arms of a scrub birch reached out and snared one of my skis. I performed a spectacular face plant into the trail, rattling my teeth to their very roots. Hearing all the commotion, my loyal dogs came to a screeching halt, doubling back to see what new game i was playing, rolling about in the snow. This of course tangled me in their leads like a fly in a spider web. Cutting the dogs loose I stumbled back onto my feet and shook my head to realign my teeth to their proper position in my jawbone. It was then that I noticed my stomach writhing like a tortured python. There simply was no more procrastinating allowed! Quickly I began the process of releasing the myriad of buckles that securing my harness to my waist and begin dancing out of my multiple layers of pants. Of course all this hoopla attracted the attention of the dogs which I kept shooing away. Ahh... at last I get my bottom adequately exposed and find some explosive relief. My relief is short-lived and replaced with terror as I realize I had brought no toilet paper with me on this short excursion. Icy agony racks my body as I deel with hygienic matters with the only available tool, vast quantities of now not-so-virgin snow. I might add that this snow is not the soft fluffy kind but rather the sharp crystalline glass-like shards that form at very cold temperatures. Needless to say, any hemorrhoids that may have existed are flash frozen and excised with anguished screams! With snowmelt rivelets streaming down my thighs I quickly set about pulling my multiple layers back over my backside and glance behind me. I am mystified to discover very little 'falloout' littering the snow behind me. "Hmmm...must have been all explosion and little substance" I think. I stoop down to re-attach my skies. I find Duke sitting obediently in front of me staring at me like the complete dope that he is. Perched squarely atop his head, right between his ears, sits a newly installed, very aromatic, Dairy Queen Swirl HAT !!!!. The mystery of the mystery missing substance to the recent rectal explosion is solved, There Duke sits, inches from my nose, seemingly gloating over his newly acquired crown of brown. I could have killed him right then and there but instead ended up giving him a thorough white-washing in the snow.
We continued our journey down the trail about another mile before it became apparent that my gastronomic distress was not a passing occurrence. I turned my team around about a half mile from the cabin which I had established as our our goal for the day. We made it back to the truck by about 6PM...the dogs tired and myself quite drained and feeling washed out. By the time I make it home I pass my lover as she is pulling out of the driveway on her way to another night of work at the hospital. Feeling guilty about not even seeing her for Valentines day, I drop the dogs at home, feed them some chow and then proceed to the health club for a hot shower and warm-up in the sauna. Feeling a bit refreshed, I head to the grocery store where I purchase a cheese cake and mushy Halmark card. While there I also pick up a giant bottle of Pepto. I intend to go home, get on some fancy duds and then to go to pay mom a surprise visit at the hospital, all dressed up and sporting cheese cake surprises for her and her fellow nurses. (cheese cake delivered by a beef cake! ) Unfortunately, I get to feeling so washed-out that I figure I better just make the delivery to the hospital without first stopping back at home to get dressed in fancy clothes. The gifts were well appreciated even if delivered by a shabbily dressed old geezer with a rumbling stomach. I spend the remainder of Valentines night curled up making passionate love to my bottle of Pepto while huddled under a mountain of blankets.
I sincerely hope your Valentine's Day was more romantic than mine! Then again, perhaps mine really reflects 'true love' after time has the chance to strip all the froo-froo fluff from its meaning.
