My friend Rob Kelly is going to write a book about me and my adventures.

He says he's going to call it, "Why isn't she dead?!"

We discussed this for a short time; I have decided that saying stuff like: "My boots didn't stink that bad. But then I fell in an anaconda hole to my hip," and "So I rappelled 65 meters into the cave and then I got this bruise shooting down the black water and hitting the sides of the cave because I turned my light out" and "I jumped into the Amazon at night and caught a caiman!" and "I think that fist-sized Huntsman spider was living IN my Lamington cakes!' sound like I'm having a pretty good time.

Except the Huntsman. That's just gross.