As a very brief follow-up to a previous post, wherein Sugar Belle Gets Served, and to respond to those curious as to whether or not I am indeed alive ... my Winter Grand Canyon adventure is a fait accompli: eight wild miles down the mouth of the great beast and ten arduous miles straight back up said-beast!
Where there are "no ladies west of Dodge City and no women west of Albuquerque", yours truly emerged with tootsies in tact (thanks to my remarkable, pink-and-brown, Ralph Lauren hiking shoes and surprisingly steadfast Bubble Gum-pink polish by Wet 'N Wild), skin refreshed (thanks to my faithful, pink, Dresden VonZipper sunglasses and Rx-grade sunscreen) and my mind clear as crystal (thanks to a respite from most media, all devices and replaced with great convo, the sounds of nature and some analog Simpsons comic books).
Fret not though, friends. A detailed, Mark Twain-styled, Peter Mayle-inspired, Bill Bryson-worthy, Jenny-length recounting of my Western episode, plus glorious slideshow, shall post soon, after my mind and body doth recover. It may take a while, though; for, besides scribing my Grand Canyon post, I am also prepping for WonderCon and, as of last week, am still coming to grips with Julian Fellowes' cruel decision to dispense with our dear Matthew Crawley of Downton Abbey. Why, Julian, why?!
Until then, just FYI, life below the Rim was life-changing. More to come ...
