Friday, December 09, 2005

Poor, Poor Lobsang

(originally posted this morning to my QT group)

Dispatch: Notre Dame, North Pole region

I pray this message reaches you all in time. I have arrived at the outpost, and much business has ensued already. The children, including the birthday-child Skylar, were delivered with little difficulty through the inches of system snow that blanketed the path. We paused at one point, and ate one of the huskies for strength. Later, we will head further north and deliver the birthday boy to the waiting arms of his mother.

After a brief moment on the air this morning covering for Yukon Dickson when his attention was needed elsewhere, I began my ascent of the treacherous north face of the stairs, using the fixed ropes of previous climbers. I'm fortunate that Lobsang stayed up late last night sharpening the crampons on my size 9 1/2 Classic Trail Loafers. It's a shame he fell into a crevasse this morning, disappearing into the icy, fog-shrouded mist of the tectonic displacement at the edge of the cwm. I will think of him wistfully as I sit here, listening to The Beatles. I can only hope his family will appreciate his sacrifice.

Now that I have summited, I will rejoice in the Hot Chocolate option that was laid out amidst the coffees this morning, eat the rest of my cinnamon donut, and try to get enough crap doneto leave at a decent hour. Alas, there were no mini marshmallows among the options at the coffee station, but when roughing it in the wilds of winter, I suppose one must make certain sacrfices.

As always, I couldn't have made it this far without the help of all of you. And Lobsang. Good man, that Lobsang.

On to the work! Vim and vigor!

Sir Thomas, H.R.H. Indiana Surveyors


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