This afternoon, I took Bailey to the ski area for a hike. We go there several times a week during the spring, summer, and fall. There's a trail race at Black Mountain tomorrow, so I figured the 15 or 20 cars in the parking lot belonged to race volunteers. Because Bailey's somewhat clumsy with his greetings, I led him away from the lodge and up through the cross-country ski stadium to the alpine slopes. As always, I put my head down and started motoring up the mountain. Within seconds I heard "HEY!" I looked up and then to the right. A wedding party… the bride in a white flowing dress, her attendants in a subtle color I can’t quite name, the groomsmen in their shiny tuxedoes, and, romping amongst them all, a big smiling mountain dog welcoming everyone to his mountain.
My mother raised five kids, and she used the word “mortified” a good deal with us. Now, I know the word’s true meaning.