Down we went, past broken logs, spiders, foliage and mostly deep, dark woods.

Sunday. We took 29 north to Parkville at 10 a.m. to visit the Sanctuary hiking trail, another blurb for the Pitch. The morning was cool, not too humid for a change, and the drive was beautiful. We followed the directions from the Kansas City Star, which took us around to the north side of town, then back in to City Hall. I missed the turn into the huge parking lot and instead wound around Park College, beyond the football stadium, to the top of the hill to the soccer fields. We turned around and parked on the street near the entrance sign of the Sanctuary.
Walking down a narrow path, we spotted another sign, “White Tail Trail.” The sign showed the path branched off in two directions. We took the left, southern side and followed a graceful curve into the woods. Down we went, past broken logs, spiders, foliage and mostly deep, dark woods. The park system has put mulch on the trail for easy walking, and wooden steps in some places where it is quite steep.
One thirty-ish lady with a dog was jogging in the opposite direction. She passed us three times, and finally we asked her how to get back on top. We had been hiking almost 25 minutes and knew the White Tail Trail made a circle, but we just didn’t know how long of a circle.
Winding up and up, we now felt the humidity and paused occasionally to take photos and catch our breath. A sign stopped us, however, and we wondered if we had come too far. The sign stated, “Last Point for Public Use.”
But Ruth felt sure, so we kept going. Another couple, a little younger than we are, passed us by, arguing about whether the woman would have or should have gone some place with her husband. She said she had been ready to go. The husband felt she didn’t really want to go. After they passed, they kept discussing that situation.
Finally, their voices were lost in the woods and we were alone, still not knowing if we were on the right trail to get out.
Huge homes loomed to our left, homes we had not passed before, but we still kept going. Then, to our left, we found our original narrow path by the soccer fields, spotted our car, and finished our hike. Total time: 50 minutes. But while we did see some water in a creek, we never saw the waterfall.
Arriving at Pitch at about nine a.m. the next cool, sunny morning, I again had the tall, redheaded secretary let me in. Later, I would have an adventure with this same door.
I got busy in my third floor cubicle after climbing those two flights of steep, gray-colored stairs. No phone messages, mainly because I haven’t fixed my phone. One e-mail about treats last Friday at Jen’s desk. Nothing else.
So, I calculated the survey I took on light rail. Then I heard a person’s voice, saying, “Knock, knock,” at the entrance of my cubicle.
It was CJ wanting to talk about the blurbs I had written so far. I followed her into her office. First, she asked if everything was going fine, was I getting what I wanted out of the experience? Was there anything she could do? I smiled insincerely and said, “Everything’s fine,” mainly because I had already asked her to allow me to do certain activities and she had turned them all down. I have not had lunch with anyone, have not talked with anyone, and have not been to even one editorial meeting, all activities I was hoping to do as an intern. She had read the DQ, water selling and Parkville blurbs and had suggestions on all of them:
1. Throw out DQ unless it can be shown Miller had high motives and not profit motives for building it. Did he save the old Bank?
2. Water blurb needs time. Wait to see if it passes. Keep informed. Re-write given dates.
3. Parkville blurb needs more antique stores or more uniqueness on trail and hiking.
4. On all, avoid passive voice.