Two Saturdays ago, we decided to go on a day hike at Lost Lake. We found Lost Lake to have true meaning to its name, given that we never actually found it. I'm sure we would have eventually, but after driving up a steep, rocky, treacherous, life-endangering cliff for what felt like several hours, with no lake in sight, I lost my will to keep looking for Lost Lake. I know the Adventure Dodge is a beast of a truck, and I know Chad is a beast of a driver, but my nerves were SHOT by the time we finally stopped. I was just sure that the path we were traversing was unnatural, unsafe, and in violation of the laws of nature, physics, science, gravity and also common sense. Although I didn't say anything, I think Chad could tell from my stone cold silence (a rare occurance), and my paler than normal and beaded with sweat frowning face, that I wasn't going to go any further. That, along with the fact that when he stopped the truck, I jumped out faster than a speeding bullet, was indication enough that Holly Boyd was DONE with the cliff driving. So we made do with a smaller, but frog abundant little pond that was conveniently located within a safe walking distance.
The boys immediately began their hunt for wildlife.
Oh yeah, I was there too. (Not hunting for frogs and snakes, but I was judiciously ensuring that everyone was properly sunscreened, hydrated, and mosquito free.)
Poor Chaddy would have done well to marry a more adventurous girl. But perhaps my keen sense of safety will help us all to live longer, healthier lives. (Notice I didn't include "exciting" in that list.)
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