Did everyone have a pleasant weekend? Here in New Mexico, the weather was so perfect that we decided to pack a picnic lunch, ditch Albuquerque, and hike the property that we purchased a few months ago.
Our "picnic" consisted of cans of Coke (his) and Diet Coke (mine) and a shared Subway sandwich. We sat on a rock with an old beach towel on top of it.
That counts, right? Don't tell those hard core, wine-glasses and silverware toting picnickers about us.
We wandered our 13 acres for almost 4 hours while Sexy Nerd fiddled with his GPS, trying to mark the exact property boundaries. The perfect weather turned out to be insanely hot, which was okay because I had ignored Sexy Nerd's advice about wearing long pants and thick shoes. Shorts and sandals were working out great! You can get by just fine when you have your husband to pull branches out of your way, even if his chivalry does include a lecture on proper hiking attire.
Personally, I had thought when leaving our house that Sexy Nerd was over prepared. Was the Camelbak (aka, the dorkiest backpack in the world) really necessary?
Not that I didn't enjoy all that cold water he was toting around. I hadn't expected our picnic to last 4 hours!
With my sandwich long gone and nothing but the peace and quiet of Mother Nature, I quickly became bored. This resulted in many shadow photos and self portraits.
Sexy Nerd refused to be captured with me and my fugly brace face.
(Just 2+ more years of braces, BTW!)
Have you figured out where all this silliness and summer clothing is leading? I'll give you a hint. The title of this post is a big clue.
Sexy Nerd had been searching for an elusive boundary marker. When he finally spotted a stick he thought might be it (but, of course, wasn't), he dashed off, leaving me scrambling to keep up with him.
And quickly stumbling with both feet into The Cactus From Hell.
Ow. Ow. Ow.
OW! OW! OW!
Sexy Nerd is my hero. He came right back and pulled all those sharp cactus needles out of my feet. He ignored my cringing and whining and was even able to get the teeny tiny, almost invisible (but still razor sharp) needles out.
My super-sore (and FILTHY) feet.
Oh, the lecture that followed though!