I'm not scared to die. I'm a little bit scared of what comes after.

So, anytime I write in this happy little thing I'll be using a song lyric as my subject. Call it the musician in me. Call it the pompous postmodernist in me. Call it what you will. Five cool points goes to whomever can name the song. The reason that I picked these lyrics are not because I'm afraid of the afterlife ("To die would be a great adventure." I'm quoting Hook? The postmodernism continues!) but because I'd like to relate a tale that almost had me dead, and it's all because of our dear, sweet Liz. I grew up with a bad taste in my mouth when it came to camping and hiking. Scouts was the reason. We had to prove our manliness at every second of every trip. We could never enjoy the nature that was all around us and it made me wonder why we weren't doing these faux-manly events back at home. So, when Liz proposed that we take a hike down in Zion's National Park I was a little hesitant. I quickly snapped out of it, however, once I realized that I wouldn't be with a bunch of lame teenagers but with a really hot girl that loved a lot. Bonus. We made our way through the park and started out nice enough. We had brought some water and some sandwiches to enjoy at the top of Angel's Landing. (I obviously had the stupid, cheesy line in my head of "If it's called Angel's Landing then why don't you just fly on up and I'll meet you there," but I didn't say it. I can bridle my tongue if I know it will make me look incredibly stupid.) The hike was quasi-strenuous in the beginning and I was having a great time out in nature with my girl. Then we hit the switchbacks. There had been snow in places, but these switchbacks were nothing but ice. What could we do? We started up. It was a blast trying to find decent spots to put our weight. Why be so careful? Ask Liz's butt. Yup, she fell. We finally made it to the top of these ice hazards and had the last leg of the trek to go. We started up and found that the snow continued on. This wouldn't have been so bad, but that last part of the trail was so dangerous (even in the summertime) that chains were supplied to hold on to. In February? We should have turned back then, but were hard headed. (Is that a side effect of love? I think Big Bird once explained it that way.) Since I had the lunch sack I ended up pulling myself up this mountain with one hand. No, we did not make it to the pinnacle, but we did get a good portion finished. You can see some pictures on that sweet little slide show that Liz posted. Anyways, we enjoyed a nice lunch of soggy sandwiches, soggy Peanut M&Ms, and apples. We started back down and found the trip down taking a bit longer. One-handed, again, I groped my way down, pointing out the safe spots for my new sweetheart. I kept telling her not to die because I had just found her. She complied, but only if I promised to do the same. The switchbacks were awesome descending but there were no falls this time around. Once we reached the bottom we breathed in deep the sweet smells of being alive and went home, somewhat stronger, somewhat sorer, and somewhat more grateful for this thing called Life. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is what I'm willing to do for this girl: almost die.