Most people relax on vacation

Not us. 

Easter weekend 2014 meant a trip to Sunriver per tradition. Taylor got to tag along this year--finally!--since the holiday fell after the tax deadline (and such is our life's calendar forevermore). 

But will he get invited back? 

I'm just not sure about it after a request to dust off our snowshoes turned into a black diamond trek to the top of Tumalo Mountain. 

When we're old and gray, I'll never say our time together was a walk in the park. Because we never walk. Stroll simply is not in our vocabulary. Taylor's point of view...why take the easy way when the hardest way is private, allowing optimal time to be one with nature...not to mention the killer views from the top?  

Almost every time we head out on these adventures, I end up crying. Literally. Not just pouting, but outright crying. I almost hyperventilated, too. And I'm in good shape. This little outing ended up being pretty amazing, but it was a lot of work. A lot, a lot of work. And the photos hardly do it justice.  

So basically. Thanks, Taylor. Thanks for making me earn my engagement on the top of South Sister Mountain two summers ago. That was a pretty good preview of coming attractions. 

And what would Easter weekend be without the obligatory Rock pic? Pretty good turnout this year.  

What's that, Barney? You want a golden retriever cousin?!

Girls Gone Wine 2014

It all started back in college.

Isn't that how all epic stories begin? 

There were seven of us. Sometimes there were upwards of ten, and other times the group was a slim six or five. Swimmers, the token hooper, and that one girl, Chelsea, whose sheer wit and wisdom inked her into our history instantly.

We met in the dorms. We passed each other with wet heads, wearing issued sweat pants, heading to and from practice and class. We bonded over common interests in the football and baseball teams. We crammed for tests. We cheered each other on at our respective sporting events. We vented. A lot. We watched every episode of The OC, and we mourned while watching the Friends finale together. Squished into a dinky dorm room. Eating cookie dough from the tube.  

It's been eleven years now since we became a posse. And we still figure out a way to unite at least once a year. Some years it's at a wedding. Or we might find ourselves in the Oregon forest, riding bikes, white-water rafting, and playing cards. This year, we took the classy route and visited the one and only Dizz's hometown of Healdsburg, CA.

And so, it was coined Girls Gone Wine 2014. We ate. We drank. We reminisced. And in true athlete fashion, we supported ol' Wazzu. I mean, only Cougs would don their crimson and gray to wine taste at Francis Ford Coppola's vineyard...by way of bicycle.

Until next year, friends. I love you!