This past year we’ve gotten into rafting like never before. Sure, in the past I’d go with friends that had a boat, and I used to teach canoe lessons, but now we actually have a raft and the gear to be the ones inviting others.

Naturally then, my writing has tagged along, and I find myself writing more boating articles. Whether it’s a profile piece on a badass couple that makes dories and guides in the Grand, or a short 300-word blurb on a New Urban community developed by pro-kayakers, it looks like my repertoire has expanded.

Sooo, I’m trying to figure out an interesting lede for my story and my thought drifts to, maybe I’ll use some vivid imagery of a kayaker playing in the whitewater park the development built. But wait, I don’t kayak. Naturally to pick up some linguistic beta I begin perusing Mountain Buzz.

But my husband comes home and wants to go disc golfing. Now. So he suggests that I just post a request for words. And, I did. Now all I have to do is sit back and watch the — Carnage of my pride —


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Filed under Poignantly Pathetic Moments

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