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Posts Tagged ‘haunted by memories of judgmental animals

Mood: Eh, you know, Tuesday
Music: Kaltwetterfront-revolverheld

The deadly marmot.

I’m posting this having just listened to an NPR segment on the dangers of Facebook, personal privacy, and our obsession with online exhibitionism. Here’s a quote…

“We increasingly know things about each other (or think we do) that we should not know, have no right to know, and have a right, actually, not to know,” Noonan writes.

And yet, I don’t think this applies to me because…I’ve been blogging for a while?  …I try not to shove it in people’s faces IRL and I keep it mostly anon online?  …I’m a carefree, fly-by-the-seat-of-her-pants rebel who thumbs her nose at convention and quaffs from the chalice of rugged individualism and my every thought is like, important and stuff?  I don’t know, you guys! I’m sorry for contributing to the downfall of Western civilization and all, but I’ll just die if I can’t share my animal poop stories.

Speaking of…I went on 12 mile hike through Rocky Mountain National Park with my parents one summer when I was still in high school.  I’d had a “stomach ache” all morning, but decided to go on the hike in the hope that a grueling, high altitude summer hike would restore me to good health.

It didn’t.

I felt progressively more sick with each mile and prayed for a nice bathroom to magically appear just off the trail.

After a couple of hours, we stopped at a glacial lake to rest and sightsee.  The lake was beautiful, a clear pool of ancient ice melt resting in a shallow bowl of boulders and rocks.  By this time, my little problem had worked its way up to a Level 3 Bathroom Emergency.  I had to go and looked around for a private spot.  The best I could manage in a glacial field filled with giant rocks, less giant rocks was squatting behind a boulder with my parents on one side and the lake on the other.

So, I’m squatting there, “doing my thing” when a little (and by “little” I mean as big as the fattest housecat you’ve ever seen) marmot…

walks up to say hello…or murder me…or give me the rabies, not sure.  I had never seen a marmot in real life (let alone 4 feet away) and I was excited…also embarrassed, kind of scared.  Most of all I felt sad that this pathetic display was my new woodland friend’s first impression of me.

I tried to shoo it away but it wasn’t going anywhere.  We watched each other for another awkward few minutes before I finished and broke the silence.

“Well, I’m going to go.  It was nice to meet you.  I’m…um…really sorry, ok?  Ok, so…bye.”

The marmot said nothing. I didn’t look back.

I found my parents, but couldn’t bring myself to mention the meeting.  It was too shameful, too fresh.  I finished the rest of the hike but the look of pitying judgment in the marmot’s eyes followed me home and for years afterward.

an introduction

Hi, I'm Anna and I love cheese!

This blog is a chronicle of my life and a catalog of happy ephemera. The About page has a little bit more information, but, remember, none of this is really's just a supplement, a thumbnail sketch, a mostly anonymous Intarwebs placeholder. I'm way better/less wordy in person. :-)

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November 2021