Scott has four photo albums that predate me. In each of them are a few pictures of family, friends and plenty of ex-girlfriends. But page after page is dedicated to mountains, rivers, lakes and trails. These are the places that for seven years Scott has promised to bring me to. Bear Lake is one of those. It is located at the north end of Logan Canyon, after a 40-mile stretch of a snowy winter wonderland. It’s breathtaking for me, but for Scott it’s a deep sigh. There is more meaning for him in these miles of mountains than I could begin to understand. Thankfully, we have a long road trip ahead of us.
—Jill
Scott, get out of the way, you’re ruining the beautiful picture for me. Great shot Jill!
Good to see you both are enjoying it all, wish I could be at Bear Lake! Instead here I sit, the end of a long week trying to figure out which bar I will go to after work and which version of Pamela Anderson I will hit on in Scottsadle. Decisions decisions.
Actually, Mike, Jill took a nice landscape shot of the lake, and I PhotoShopped myself in later without her permission. The snow on my jeans is really powdered sugar, and I took the liberty of bulking up my shoulders. I think it works.
BTW, no version of Pamela Anderson — be it an elderly one, a blind one or a transvestite one — would ever succumb to your clumsy advances.
(OK, maybe the tranny one.)
wow. so beautiful! we miss mountains.