Snatching Victory

It's been said that there's a separate God for children and drunks.

Well, I'm not sure about all that. But I do have to admit that things have frequently gone much better for me than I've had any right to expect. My dad always said I could fall into a pile of poo and come out with rose between my teeth.

Take for example the time a bunch of my friends and I decided to meet up at the Smithsonian. Sure, we agreed on a time, but that was all the location information we shared. And that was plenty for most of us. One friend asked which building. I was struck dumb. You see, there are apparently several different museums that together make up the Smithsonian. You know, places you can go after you get bored of the Air & Space Museum. All was in fact well. We all met on the front steps of Air & Space (except for one guy who wound up at the back steps. Make whatever jokes you like. He deserves them all.)

Flash forward to this morning. A dear friend and I agreed to meet up at the Wachusett Mountain State Reservation and go for a run. What could possibly go wrong? Well, it turns out things with the word "reservation" in their name tend to be a little largish. Throw in the fact that cell service was a little scarce, and you've got a monumental game of Marco Polo without any way of hearing the other person. Throw in some scantily clad coeds, some chainsaws, and a forest fire, and you've got the makings of a lovely disaster movie.

Instead, he and I stumbled across one another quite after just a few minutes, and we proceeded to tromp through the countryside, getting satisfyingly sweaty while discussing art, music, television, and profanity. Quite a lovely time, and I recommend it highly.

I don't think I count as a child or a drunk, but at least I appreciate whatever help I am getting. Many many thanks to all of you who love, support, and enable me. You guys kick ass.