The dump

This isn't the usual dump- because it wasn't a usual situation. Usually after MW, I groggily pour myself into my car to get to work that Monday morning with the smell of smoke still on my person. I am usually tired from excesses but filled with contentment. It goes without saying that we have created something that is quite remarkable. But this year, I felt something entirely different- bitterness, frustration and utter disappointment. It was disconcerting. 

But upon thinking further there was something else behind those negative feelings- gratefulness. Because I would not have such strong feelings without MW being so fucking awesome. Yes, I would have loved to drink more whiskey with Pant ( discussing the flavor profiles), shown Scott what real shooting is, yell at Steve to keep time, devour bloody steaks, and throw golf balls at Kurt's nuts, take artsy-fartsy portraits of everyone, make you all whiff at my badass wiffleball fastball, and generally bullshit around that glorious fire with the entire crew- but I know that come next May- I will have that chance again. Sometimes things don't always go the way you want, but you keep moving forward, and keep your eye on what matters. 

The mountain provides. It nourishes and completes. Even when it's just for 24 hours. I'm good with that. Peace out boys- til next time.