L-O-V-E

Rose Garden, Portland, OR

How do I spell love?

I've felt it in so many ways on this trip.

Before I left, a friend gave me a care package for the road.  Chocolates and a t-shirt and a book to meditate with and a journal and a bubble wand.  (I haven't had a bubble wand in YEARS!).  I was touched beyond words.

I felt it from my family in Minnesota, who changed their plans around to accommodate my schedule.  As they always do when I show up, they opened their homes and their hearts.

I felt it from the couple who loaned me their ladder and glass cleaner and helped me clean the remains of the North Dakota bugs off my van.  (This was no small matter - I've never seen bugs spatter like those bugs did; they not only got the windshield, they managed to dirty the front foot of the side windows.)

One night, at a KOA in eastern Washington, I pulled in just for a place to stay.  I exchanged a few words with the gentleman across the way; turned down the offered drink; I was tired.  The next morning, as I was getting ready to leave, there was a knock on the door.  Would I like a piece of fresh banana bread for the road?

I felt it from Tim, quietly mapping out options for my first night after I was to leave them in Portland; he noted down a couple of options he was sure I'd like.  (and I did...)  I felt it from Jane, emptying her fridge to make sure mine was stocked as I left them.

From the couple in central Kansas.  Again, it was the end of a long day's drive; they were in the campsite next to mine.  They gave me a drink and invited me, a stranger, to dinner.

And from my son, when I got home, cheerfully making trip after trip to help me unload the world's largest travelling suitcase.  And from the friend, sure I wouldn't want to head back out to the store after I'd finally made it home, who brought over some milk and produce to tide me over for a few days.  And from the friend who always takes a minute to send a kind word about almost every blog post.

Love Is.

The Ocean

Cannon Beach, OR

It seemed a shame to go all the way across the country to Portland and not go the last two hours to the coast.  The weather inland was unseasonably warm, so I had very little trouble convincing my friends to play hooky from their Saturday chores and drive me to the shore instead.

I had a wonderful time.  Since I wasn't driving, I was able to look around at the beautiful scenery to my heart's content.  The sky was a perfectly clear blue until we got within a mile of the shore.  Marine layer, they told me.  I'd heard of the phenomenon, but had never experienced it.  The temperature within the embrace of the fog was at least fifteen degrees colder than it had been a mile inland.  amazing.  Fortunately for me, they had warned me of the possibility and I had brought along my jacket.

The cool damp fog dampened my enjoyment of the beach not one whit.  We spent some time walking along the shore, stopped to eat the lunch they'd so thoughtfully packed us, then headed up the coast a ways to see if the layer would lift.

Astoria, OR

We stopped twice more.  Once at St. Steven's park to see the remains of a shipwreck (notable in that all made it to shore alive), and again in Astoria, at the mouth of the Columbia river.  Jane and I talked pretty much non-stop the entire way - it had been several years since I had last seen her, and we had a lot to catch up on.

We made it back to Portland in time for dinner; they treated me to dinner at one of Tim's favorite sushi restaurants.

Let's see.  They gave up a Saturday, drove, packed lunch, knew the best places to stop, and also provided dinner.  I provided my charming company.  hmmm...  Feeling mighty loved, I am.

Books and Roses

Travelling to remote places is wonderful fun, but I must acknowledge it doesn't necessarily make for good internet access.  I've had the best time the last two weeks, and I've been writing blog entries in my head as I drove; now it's time to put some of my thoughts on paper before they just flit away.

My Portland friends invited me to stay around for a few days, and I was thrilled to take them up on the offer.  While they were working, I made some grand plans to visit the rose garden there, and also bury myself for a while at Powell's bookstore.

Turns out to do both in one day was a tad bit ambitious on my part.

Portland Int'l Rose Garden

Despite the mid-day traffic clogs (why aren't those people at work where they belong?), I had no trouble getting to the Portland International Rose Test Garden.  It's a beautiful oasis of flowers in the midst of the city.  I got out of the van intending to stay for 30 minutes; just time to take a few pictures.  Almost two hours and I'm not admitting how many photos later, it was too late to get to the bookstore without getting caught in rush hour traffic and missing dinner.  I didn't really mind - the flowers were beautiful.  I took pictures, I sat, I people-watched - I had a lovely time losing track of time.

Portland, OR

So, the bookstore fell to the next day.  I slept in, had a leisurely breakfast, and headed for downtown Portland and the best bookstore I've ever wandered into.  Powell's New and Used books has one of each.  They have the new books shelved with the used.  On the end caps, they have lots of staff recommendations; and if you want to sit down to read a bit - or all - of a book, they have a handy-dandy coffee shop.  (they do ask you to limit your selection within the coffee shop to five books, and if you spill a bit as you're reading, that you purchase the item.  fair enough.)

After spending an hour or two wandering the bookstore, I headed down the street to Kenny & Zuke's, home of a to-die-for Reuben sandwich.  Once I'd finished stuffing my face, I went back to my friend's house for a quiet afternoon with a good book by a new (to me) author.

Finally getting the hang of this stop, breathe, relax thing!

Washington

Mt. Hood, Oregon

Another day, another drive.

Today, I was tired.  Instead of staying where I was, which was driving along the Columbia River Gorge along the scenic Route 14 through Washington, my mind kept falling back to all I left behind - the projects at home and school.  My GPS didn't like the drive either; it had problems with my route.  It didn't think I could get to Portland along that road; it kept flashing 'replanning' for the better part of two hours. It's a little eerie when your electronics are thinking along the same lines you are...

It was a beautiful drive.  Eastern Washington state is like the other high prairies I've seen.  Golden brown in the sunlight; few trees, great views.  The river ran along my left side; I could often see the traffic on the freeway across the water, going faster than I was, avoiding the climbs and dips of the road I traveled.  Fast wasn't the object of my drive, however, so I stayed where I was.

The switch from prairie to forest along the gorge is sudden.  No trees, no trees, no trees.  A few trees (where did they come from?), more trees, all trees.  And the trees here are beautiful.  Obviously not subjected to the killing ice storms of Kansas City, they grow gracefully tall and stately, providing shelter, protection from the winds, and shade.

The bonus at the end of the day was an evening spent reminiscing with my college roommate and her family.  She and I have one of those friendships that picks up as though distance never got in the middle whenever we get together.  We skip freely from recollections of events thirty years ago to those of last week and random points between.  A few years ago, she and her husband and youngest son stopped by in Kansas City.  Tim and Aaron went off sight-seeing, leaving us alone to catch up on each other's lives.  Aaron was a bit amazed - "whatever will they talk about for three whole hours?"  He needn't have worried.

Driving Through Beauty

Glacier National Park

I drove today through beautiful mountain passes.

The clouds and sun played with light and shadow, highlighting hillsides and shading the passes ahead.

I felt a wrench in my chest as I left the road behind.  As always, I wanted to capture the moment; stay in the beauty.  I didn't want to leave.  But life has taught me there is no way to stay in any moment.  Good or bad.

So, I reluctantly kept driving, knowing I may never pass this way again.  I will try to hold the pictures in my mind, but know I won't be able to.  **sigh**

As I drove, I was listening to retreat tapes made by Fr. Richard Rohr in the mid-80's, loaned to me for the drive by one of the Sisters, who works at Cristo Rey.  The message wasn't dated - spirituality hasn't changed much in just thirty years.  He spoke of faith and caring for God's creation and loving ourselves before we can love others; the messages resonated with the scenery.  The combination made for a contemplative drive.

I could use more such days in my life.

Stop.  (I didn't do enough of that.  again!)  Breathe.  Relax.

Go! (Again!)

This stoppin', breathin' and relaxin' stuff takes some practice.

I've not been very good at it since I left home, but I'm willing to work at it so I can get better.

I left home a week ago Friday, and headed up to Minnesota to see family.  From there, I headed off to see more beautiful places I haven't seen yet.

Buffalo River State Park, MN

The first night out of Minneapolis, I drove to Buffalo River State Park, near the North Dakota border.  The park bore out my prejudices towards state parks - they put them where they do because there's something pretty there.  In this case, it is a bit of untouched prairie.  Beautiful.

Painted Canyon, ND

From there, I drove across North Dakota to Teddy Roosevelt National Park - the North Dakota part of the badlands.  I loved my hike down into one of the canyons.  The short loop and the visitor's center at the top of the hill were busy, but as I walked away and down the hill, the sounds of trucks and people faded away, replaced by the chirps of birds and grasshoppers.  The view of asphalt and cars was replaced by the wonders revealed along a rugged trail winding down into the path ancient waters cut into the layered rock.  The smell of car exhaust was replaced by sun-heated grass.  For the first time in ages, I stopped to just breathe.

I left North Dakota, and spent four hours along Route 200S across Montana looking at some of the most beautiful nothing I've ever seen.  Every turn along the road brought a new version of beauty.  This turn showed badlands-like hills and vales.  Around here, a desert landscape.  The next revealed a lush and green valley, cows contentedly munching.  And so it went.  I found myself eagerly driving to the next hill, to see what I would see.

Virginia Falls, MT

And now, I'm happily ensconced in a friend's dining room after the morning's hike in Glacier Park.  Four of us went up into the park for a four mile hike near St. Mary's lake to see the water coming down the mountain.  It was cool up near the road, but once we got down onto the trail, the weather was perfect - comfortable walking in a long-sleeved t-shirt.  We had almost completed our hike when the overcast skies decided to dump part of their load.  I must admit I was very grateful for my '10 hiking essentials checklist' at that point, and was almost smug as I pulled my waterproof jacket out of my daypack and hiked up the hill back to the car in relative comfort.

I know I can get good at this stop, breathe and relax thing if I only try.

Cat: 1

The (mis-named) Monster (because he's really a gentle and good kitty), is not the world's most intelligent cat.  He's a biggish creature, and not overly graceful.  He's been known to fall off chairs and run into walls.  He has a wimpy meow and a wonderful purr.  (He purrs me to sleep some nights.  I really like that part.)

Monster is a cat of simple pleasures.  He takes special pleasure in boxes.  Shortly after you set a box on the floor, he will find it and climb in.  Then he just sits and looks at us with a very satisfied look on his face.  Box!

Well, Monster has decided the sink is a Box.  Even better, it's a Box with Water!  (He loved our drippy bathtub before we tore it out.)  If he is in the sink, he is NOT on the counter, he is in a Box.  and he is allowed to sit in Boxes.  And, he doesn't even really barely even have to pause on the counter to get to this newfound mini-heaven.  Surely, it's OK to sit in this wonderful Box with Water!

I've tried chasing him out, even turning on the water so he gets wet.  (whereupon he just jumps to the other sink).  If I physically lift him from the sink, he will stay down, but gives me a reproachful look.  (It's a Box.  It is.  It IS!  He is SO certain he is right.)

I'm afraid I'm losing this battle.  What does it really hurt if the cat sits in the empty sink?  (I mean, Box?) 

Ready, Set...

It's been a busy and hectic summer.

While the rest of the school was on break, I was in charge of making sure our servers got moved to a new home, our file shares were converted to SharePoint, that computers got cleaned and software updates loaded, and that iPads were ready to go for the incoming freshmen.

The server move, which I thought would take a week or so, turned into one of my two-hour projects.  In other words, it took WAY more time than I thought it would, both on my part and on the part of the new server company.

The good news part is that when school started this week, it was all ready to go.  mostly.  kinda-sorta.  Close enough, at any rate.

There isn't really a bad news part, except that I got very little time off over the summer, and so am starting the school year exhausted.

This is where I get grateful for that clause I insisted on when negotiating my contract where I get a month off each year.  I'm ready.

And, I'm leaving at the end of next week.  Back to the camper van, I go!  The school president is currently questioning her judgement in letting me finagle the contract clause.  She's worried about how the tech questions are going to get handled for the next month.

So am I, but not enough to not take my break.  I need it.  I really need it, if I'm not to start snapping at people for asking me stupid questions.  (Yes, all questions are stupid if I'm tired and cranky enough.)  It still seems so far away.  I have a friend who has started planning part of the trip for me, since I haven't done any planning for myself.  (I may or may not follow the portion of the path she laid out, but it's nice to have a plan to deviate from...)

Ready, Set....  soon..........

Neighbor's Garage

Last weekend found me out in the heat painting part of the neighbor's garage.

"Why the neighbor's garage and not your own?", you ask.  "Don't you have enough to do around your own house?", you ask.

Well....  I do have plenty to do here, but.

When I look out into my back yard, the neighbor's garage serves as a backdrop for the yard.  Not that the yard is anything to look at right now, but I do hope it will be pleasing to the eye sometime in the next year.

As I looked out and planned, my eye would always get caught by the peeling paint on the neighbor's garage.  I didn't like it.  Now, they keep their house in good shape, but the garage is pretty rough.  I think that because they don't have to look at it, they didn't think to keep it up.
The back of their garage isn't that big, so I found myself tempted to just paint it myself, so I wouldn't have to see the peeling paint any longer.  I didn't think it would take that long - 4-5 hours tops.

So, one day I popped on over there and asked them if they'd mind if I painted it.  They were a little taken aback, but readily agreed to let me do the work.  (they quickly offered to buy the paint.)

I was talking to their neighbor to the south, whose backyard is also next to mine, and mentioned she might see me out there.  "Oh, my", she said.  "Do you suppose you might be able to paint my side of their garage, too?  It looks even worse than the back."  Well, Anita's been nothing but nice to me since we moved in.  She's getting a little older, and can't paint the garage herself, and she was right - her side of their garage looked awful.  So, I agreed.

Which changed the job from a 4-ish hour job to a 12-15 hour chore.

It took several days to get the work done.  It took a LOT of scraping, then I had to prime and reglaze the window before I could paint.

As I scraped, I must admit I was asking myself what the heck I was doing out there.  It's one thing to indulge my own self-interest by painting the side I have to look at, it's another to paint a side I can barely see.  It was hot.  I was sweaty.  I mulled it over.  And I decided it was high time I'd reached out and done something nice for someone just because I could.  I've been mostly just taking care of me for some time.  I think I said yes because I was overdue for some good church.

Now, I'm not much on formal religion these days - when asked, I claim to be a member of the Church of Random Kindness and Senseless Beauty.  My church isn't much on doctrine, but it does ask, when the opportunity presents itself, that you reach out in kindness to others.  The garage painting gig was a perfect opportunity to reach out.

As I reached this conclusion, Anita saw me out there working.  She came out with her ladder and a pitcher of ice water and a glass of ice.  (and refilled it after the ice melted.)  She was so grateful - she's worked hard to make her small back yard inviting, and the eyesore next door was hard to camouflage.

It's not often I get instant feedback that I've done the right thing, but there it was.  Suddenly, I didn't mind the heat and the sweat.  As Anthony De Mello wrote - I gave myself the pleasure of pleasing others.  and it felt good.

I was happy.  Anita is happy.  and, as a bonus, the garage's owners are happy.

Not bad payback for a few hours work.

Squirrels: gone!

I win.

It turns out that the best way to get rid of the squirrels is to take down the squirrel highway.

I wondered about the highway when I took out the dead tree - I had watched them jump from tree to tree across the yards, and was curious as to how they'd get around with the tree gone.  I needn't have worried; they quickly figured out alternate routes using the fence and the power line.

The line originally crossed the back yard at about 8'; it was easy to reach up and grab it - and the squirrels had no trouble jumping from the fence to the line and from there to the roof.  I wasn't so keen on the 8' above the ground part (I didn't know yet about the squirrel condo in the eaves; if I had, I wouldn't have been keen about the squirrel roadway part either), so when I had the foundation dug, we also buried conduit between the house and the garage.  When the outside of the garage addition was complete, I had my electrician come back and install a new meter box. (The line had to move SOMEWHERE, anyhow - the location of the original meter is now in the middle of my kitchen.)  The power company was most cooperative about coming out to move the line from the house to the new box.  I don't think they were keen about that 8' clearance, either.  From the new meter box, the line runs below ground to the new crawl-space; the main panel has now become a sub-panel off the feed.

While we were at it, we also had old cable and phone lines taken out, and the new fiber line also moved to the garage.  Which means there are now no suspended wires connecting my house to the pole.

Turns out the squirrels didn't like having their main highway taken down.  They CAN make the leap to my roof from the neighbor's house, which is only about 10' away, but it's an awkward jump.  It's uphill, and not a great angle.

So, within a week after the line got moved, they packed up their bags and moved on out.  Not sure exactly where they went - I think they just moved to the tree across the street; I see them climbing on it all the time now.

I'm happy.  The squirrels, presumably, are happy.  The cats, not so much.  One of their favorite pastimes was watching the squirrels through the screen, plotting how they could get out there to catch the little buggers.  With no rodents to watch, they've had to find other interests.  Oh, well.  Can't please everyone...