For somebody who’s not really into bushwalking or even just walking, period, I bought myself a Kathmandu Heli 600 Fill Hooded Lightweight Down Jacket in black to match the color of Jeff’s soul eyes. (I bought him one, as well, because he’s starting to look so homeless already next to my stylishly curated op shop finds.) Typing the complete name of the item probably took longer than my impulse to order one online but in my defense, it was on sale, from $270 down to $119.98, saving me a whopping $150.02 I could’ve used to spend on something more important. Like, get my car serviced or something.

Yeah, but, nah. My sister said it’s an essential piece she wears literally everyday and with winter coming up, my common sense urged me to go grab the offer while it’s still at a discounted price.

I’m expecting it to be delivered tomorrow. Along with some makeup stuff I purchased online, as well, so here I am all excited and confused at the same time. I mean, sure, I know I will definitely be using them a lot maybe but at the same time, I can’t help but get paranoid if I’m harboring any psychological issues that’s making me compensate materially. You know what I mean?

At any rate, I reckon it would come in handy the next time I go camping again, when this whole COVID thing is over. Might even pick up fishing as a hobby. Who knows? The possibilities are endless!

(Although chances are, I’d end up on the couch reading a book.)

Speaking of camping, it probably wouldn’t come as a surprise that I’m still not finished blogging about that time we went to the Grampians yet. I planned on splitting it into two installments. Maybe not one year after the other but… anyway, apparently, Jeff took too many pictures and I hated to dump the rest of it in the second part without even a proper story line so here’s my attempt at Part 3.

I honestly don’t have a solid story line laid out right now but whatever, let’s do this. Before the devil that is online shopping grabs me by its talons again. Drowning my soul in the shallow sea of endless consumerism.

So Part 2 saw us leaving the campsite goodbye to drive up the mountains to Grampians National Park which was the whole entire point of the trip anyway. It was a gorgeous day to get lost. The GPS had us going in circles that I was just about ready to wear my shirt inside out, as is Filipino folklore to combat sorcery that plays tricks with your sense of direction.

We eventually found the carpark without any sartorial adjustments and you’d be surprised to see how all the cars spilled out on both sides of the street. We parked farther away that walking to the entrance of the park was pretty much equivalent to a trek already.

It was at this point that I really had to pee. There was no holding it any longer. Now, I wasn’t being a diva. I’m from the Philippines so I’m pretty much exposed to different kinds of toilets — dodgy or otherwise — but pit latrines, for some reason, always gets to me in a horror story sort of way. For one, I don’t know what sinister beings lurk down there apart from the usual suspects. For another, the hole was big enough for my body to slide through. I know because for about ten seconds, I was debating if I could risk getting kidney stones by holding my pee a bit longer and when I decided that I couldn’t, I spent the next 60 seconds eyeballing the width of the latrine against my shoulder measurement like an obstetrician guiding the birth of the widest part of a baby’s body through the mother’s pelvis.

Obviously, I came out of the toilet door fine, albeit with high blood pressure but I survived.

This is where the photodumping starts. But for the record, can I just say that I was really proud of Jeff for carrying Raven through all the rocky trails and narrow passes. I was deeply impressed. Charles Darwin would’ve been so proud.

What an agile ape.

I love the guy, though. I know I make fun of him on this blog he doesn’t read but on that day, I was truly proud watching him effortlessly go up and down the dirt tracks with Raven in his arms. He said he grew up in the mountains of Badian. His whole childhood prepared him for that moment.

*Raven at 1 year and 11 months old