While my travel buddy was windsurfing, Mimi and I stayed on dry ground, taking long hikes in the boulder fields around Lake Isabella. Water erosion had carved some of the rocks into bizarre, but sensual works of art.
"Um, Marea, can't you read?"
"Yeah, yeah, but I'll be careful."
"I swear I'm going to make you watch James Franco in 127 Hours when we get home. You're scaring me!"
"Mimi, I'll be fine. Besides, I'm not alone, I have you."
"Oh, brother! A lot of good that will do."
Frankly, I was more nervous about rattlesnakes than falling rocks. But I was sure-footed and protected with my gnarly hiking boots. Mimi finally stopped nagging and we had a good time. I was happy to have her along; she is, after all, my voice of reason.
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