As I sit here in my living room, I look around and it looks as if an REI as thrown up in here after partying with a garage sale.  I'm going to attempt to hike as far as I can on The Oregon Coast Trail.  It's about 350 miles.  Last I heard the bet was 2 miles.  Hmmmph, we will see.

Last night I started to rearrange, pack, unpack and re-pack my backpack with the "help" of the hubby.  He keeps wandering around the house finding new things that he thinks I will need on this trip.  I remind him that I have to haul all this shit around on my back.  Oh yeah. . .

My pilgrimage, journey, mid-life crisis, hiking thing sort of begins today.  Today will be spent getting to the trail head, which thanks to my sister the Mighty Mo driving me, I will arrive at sometime today.  It feels so strange to me to not have a set schedule for a trip.  I'm a bit anal about time-lines, lists, and schedules.  But I am attempting to alter that part of myself.  It helps that I am pretty sure the Oregon Coast Trail is not going to leave without me.  

The worst thing for me is catching a plane. Driving me to the airport is sometimes a frightening, yet fascinating event.  I think once I almost hyperventilated when there was a wreck on the freeway and we were stuck behind it when we were airport bound.  I was looking for a break in the fence next to the highway, so we could 4x4 through Farmer Brown's field around the wreck.  Of course it never occurred to me to maybe be a little concerned about the people who wrecked.  I was a bad person.

I did take a cue from my procrastinating hubby and waited until last night to waterproof my tent.  It was raining outside so I set up my tent in the foyer (grand word pertaining to the weird, pointless space in my house near one of my front doors) and started spraying the shit out of it with this stuff.  I had no idea what this stuff was made of, but by the time it was done, I had front door and back door open with two fans going and I STILL almost asphyxiated myself.  I was also high as a kite.  I swear to God that Harpo talked to me.  I shit you not.  Jeesh.  New rule:  Do not water-proof your tent inside the house.  Just sayin'.

Oh, and in case anyone wants to know wear the hubby got the marks on his neck . . . well, let's just say, my stun gun works and leave it at that.