I'm going to break my habit of not blogging by blogging.
I've never seen a shooting star before. Ever. I've seen many a plane and satellites which I was convinced as a child was proof of a hostile alien takeover in the immanent future (I also believed all mountains were just dinosaurs covered with lots of dirt waiting to be reawakened from their centuries long slumber). Perhaps my friend is proof of some sort of clairvoyance as I found him at my apartment door not long after 10pm demanding I step into the car for an "adventure."
Well, after he used my computer to look up directions for the adventure. Directions we lost ten minutes into the adventure and still haven't been able to locate (he's convinced they're firmly stuck to my rear while I think his pocket ate them). We eventually found ourselves at Cougar Mountain which reminded me quite a bit of my hometown. So much in fact that the minute I stepped out of the car my small town girl instincts took over and asked the city boy if he had brought a flashlight.
City boy then asked me if I had brought a flashlight.
Let me tell you, three years of living in Seattle and using a DS as a reputable light source during power outages and general activity lulls has negated one's need of flashlights. While city boy certainly loves being in nature more than I do and has probably interacted with it more in the last three years than I have, I think it goes without saying that he did not, indeed, bring a flashlight.
Nor a blanket or something to place under our heads while laying across some very comfortable dirt and dry plant life.
So we trekked the dirt road to the top of Cougar Mountain with cell phones and a very dubious flashlight glare from a couple trailing behind us that decided to follow us up (if anything set off my serial killer horror movie alarms, this would be it) until we reached the anti-air zone. Sprawled on our backs becoming friends with the dirt, we watched the night sky, nearly as dark as it is back in my hometown since we were away from Seattle proper. He found a shooting star rather quickly. I found airplanes and more satellites.
Eventually, though, a slow trickle of dying meteors streaked through the skies. I think he was expecting something bigger, and I would have liked seeing a bit more of them myself, but I was satisfied with one. Happily content with two. And exponentially increasing as I began to see more shooting stars than airplanes as the night progressed.
To everyone out there looking up at the sky, I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did.
Also, beware of the aliens.