Aug 31, 2006

DIVING DEEP
SEATTLE, Washington –  I bite the regulator and take a drag. My first sip of sterile air is dry and cold and characterless.

Nevermind. I'm breathing underwater.

Calm and elation swirl through me. And I'm gone. Lost. Smitten. I haven't felt this way in 13 years, since I first climbed in the North Cascades.

My pin number commemorates the date of my first rappel.

Where will today's date surface, I wonder?

7 comments:

  1. Anonymous5:30 PM

    What about the 20-year-old who asked you out that night? Doesn't he get a mention?

    Share with the rest of the class, Miss Amanda...

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  2. Nothing to tell, my friend.

    It's not that type of blog anyway.

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  3. most posts, please! ;) even if you write about TFI Friday's in Kent or something. i love your writing.

    ReplyDelete
  4. I can probably manage something more exciting...

    Thanks for the props, m'dear.

    Everyone else – all three of you readers – check out Michelle's blog, the Anti 9-to-5 Guide. You too can learn to slack profitably like us...

    (Though maybe we're not the best poster-girls at the moment, working 20-hour shifts here). Ax.

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  5. Anonymous12:16 AM

    Why such long hours?

    Why do you do these things to yourself?

    Just kidding, just kidding.

    Yours in freelance pain, S.

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  6. Anonymous6:51 AM

    Nothing like the first time.

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  7. Why the midnight oil? Book deadlines are running me ragged.

    I'm also experiencing slight romantic turbulence, which helps matters not at all.

    Nuff said, because – altogether now – it's not that type of blog... Ax.

    ReplyDelete