Warning: Randomness ahead

The weekend question posed by a fellow blogger was something along the lines of "What's the best marriage advice you've ever received?"

Considering that he was asking for the sake of beefing up his toast to his sister at her wedding, I refrained from relaying the two best pieces of advice I've ever been given:

#1 - "Sarah, for the love of God, DON'T MARRY THAT GUY."

#1(a) (A related bit of advice went along the lines of: "Sarah, you need to RUN - not walk - away from this guy. And since we all know you can't run, maybe you should steal a Ferari to get away from him.")

#2 - "Sarah, seriously - stay single. You don't know how good you've got it."

See? Not wedding-toast material.

*****

I went hiking yesterday (Anna, if you ever read this, I told my parents where I was going and wrote them when I got back, so stop wagging your head at my solo nature ventures).

As I was trundling along in a state of sheer oblivion, trying to not trip over tree roots, I looked up to find myself face-to-face with a big, black cow who seemed as surprised to see me as I was to see her. A lot of of big, black cows, actually (I had forgotten that livestock graze on Forest Service lands). As I said before, I was completely oblivious, so I didn't know whether I was between a mama cow and her baby or just facing a cow. Assuming it was the former, I mentally prepared myself as much as I could to be head-butted by an angry bovine and verbalized it with a quietly muttered "oh, hell."

Apparently, until the moment that I vocalized my fears, the cow must have thought I was simply a walking bit of forest, because as soon as I spoke, she started, gave me a dirty look, turned and cantered/galumphed away, scaring the rest of the cows away with her. About fifty yards or so into the trees, they all stopped, each one looking back at me over her rump with a look that said: "Thanks a lot, party-crasher. Jerk."

But seriously. Who considers that "wildlife" could include "angry walking pot roast?"

*****

DEET gets the Product FAIL of the weekend. I was covered head-to-greasy-toe in the stuff and still wound up being a one-woman smorgasboard for thirsty bloodsuckers all over the Happy Jack area. Add those itchies to the ones I got in church (IN CHURCH!!), and I'm a bit unhappy today.