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Last summer, I hiked into Stehekin with my two best friends. Stehekin, my old home, with no roads leading to it, no service and a human population to match the bears’. I drove five hours to the airport, slept in the back of my truck for less than that and caught an early bird flight to Seattle where Jaime picked me up. We picked Tonga up a little while later, drove three hours to the trailhead, and hiked the 16 or so miles in.

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She took all of ten seconds to scan my too-long, too scattered resume and said to me, “Two things come to mind when I look at your resume. First, this is a horrible resume. You’re marketing yourself as eight people and you need to market yourself as one. This is such an ENFP thing to do. Second, I can’t help but think you’ll be a really fun spouse.”