Worst of State

Recently Woo Goo took home the Best of State award for education. Pretty sweet. But today Rachel and I earned awards of our own.

So I take home the prize for worst husband of state. I took Rachel to the Arches National Park today. One of Rachel's sisters (AKA the precious cargo) joined us. The precocious sister couldn't make the trip because she ran out of barf bags (true story, not making it up). Arches is pretty cool if you've never been. So cool it inspired ugly licence plates.

"You have to actually touch the Delicate Arch to fully appreciate it," says I. In order to accomplish this I tell her we just need to take a short little stroll through the desert. What's that? It's the longest trail in the park? The park's pamphlet calls this hike "strenuous"? Nah, I've done it before [in October]. No big deal.

It's only 97 degrees. It's only a windy, hot desert. It's only uphill both ways. There was no shade. It was sandy and gravely. And her hands swelled up like summer sausages for some reason. Oh and they were salty sausages (trust me I know). Ugh the whole ordeal was just awful (for Rachel [I loved it]).

After about 100 meters, I realize I am now hiking with Darth Vader. Not because of the evil but because of the labored breathing. She also refuses to wear sunblock because it's slimy. And she is the whitest thing this side of Canada.

Rachel has special hiking needs. She is beyond slow. Cautious is an understatement: she worries every step could be her last (even when walking on an even sidewalk). And she must take a 13 minute rest break every 45 feet.

It's because of these reasons that my little love muffin takes home the award for worst hiker of state. The end.