Now that I have finally caught up on my Open Diary reading,
(would you say I ODed? -mischievous grin-), it is time to catch up a little on
entry writing. I have been a terrible person. I haven’t written at all in the
last ten days, with the exception of three and a half hand written pages of a
letter to a friend in the UK, which my puppy promptly decided to eat. -sigh- I
am not overly eager to re-write my friend, but I suppose I must, since it is my
turn in our epistolary venture.
As my friend would say, I just got back from a work holiday.
Or, in my fair country’s vernacular, a vacation. I spent 10 days away from the
stagnant pool of proofreading and I enjoyed every minute of it, even the
moments in which I found myself in the dentist’s chair twice in two days and on
a two-hour trip to spend maybe twenty minutes signing paperwork for the
financing of my new Ford Escape. The same vehicle that decided to blow a hole
in its EGR valve on Sunday, a quarter of the way to the dance I had intended to
attend on Sunday night. I did not make it, obviously. Fortunately it is a
relatively minor problem. The vehicle is still drivable; it simply runs poorly,
like a martial artist with a crushed larynx and a tracheotomy.
On the last two Saturdays I took Mira down to the local
Farmer’s Market for socialization and training. Mostly socialization, of which
she received a ton, since she is a puppy. People of both genders and all ages
are drawn to puppies like moths to flame, albeit with more pleasant results. We
enjoyed the sun, the attention, and the company. I have to admit, I secretly
enjoy kneeing people in their assumptions. I realize she is very similar in
appearance to a black Labrador, but better to ask if your guess is the right
one than to barge on down that road without looking. I think that is just a
general rule of thumb, whether we are discussing my dog or anything else. If
you do want to go that ass out of u and me route, please do though, I repeat,
because it is just fun to say, I secretly enjoy kneeing people in their
assumptions.
My vacation was exactly what I needed. On my second day back
at work, I can tell you I need more of it. I spent a lot of time relaxing and
just as much being active. I finally had the chance to do some things I have
been wanting to do all summer, which was great. On Wednesday my friends Ben,
Dan, and I hiked up Grouse Creek Falls for about an hour and a half before
turning back around. Don’t let the word “hike” give you any illusions, we
literally climbed up the waterfalls, up rocks and across pools, finding
purchase in a deep pocket in the stone in the middle of the flow and pulling
ourselves over to the other side. The bed of the creek is all loose river rocks
and mountainside and we went up the creek itself, letting the waterway be our
path. Ben and I did this barefoot. It was rather rough, but a lot of fun. This
is my third time climbing up the falls, though I had never hiked up so far
after getting above the falls. It was, as Dan called it a few times, a bona
fide adventure, but hardly as epic as it might sound. The waterfall is a series
of short falls, cold, deep pools and easily climbed rock faces.
Ben stayed over and had dinner with my dad and I. The next
day we loaded my parent’s sea kayak on top of my Escape and drove it downtown,
to a boat launch at a place called Sand Creek. The creek is more of an estuary
for the lake and we paddled up it until we came to the actual creek, which is
too shallow for a boat of any kind. Round trip, it was also 3 1/2 hours. I
drive by the creek regularly as I go in and out of town. It is different now. I
know it, I have trailed my fingers across her surface, dipped into her and
explored her curves. A river looks different, when you have traveled it. There
is an intimacy you never expected. She is no longer some stranger you pass
along the way, but someone you meet eyes with, a sparkle hidden in them as if
you share a secret, a knowing that no one else will ever understand. No other
lover will know her the way you did, whether she has one or a thousand. That
time, that intimacy is yours, your conversation, your discourse.
(On a side note, I feel similarly about dancing. In three
minutes with our clothes on, I have known strangers better than many of their
lovers ever will. When you move someone, move with someone, you transcend the
adolescent pawing so many call sex these days and rise toward that oneness we
all imagine comes along with physical joining. At the end of that three
minutes, in my arrogance I have often returned my partner to her so-called
lover and thought to him, “You’re welcome.”)
On Friday, Ben and I went fourwheeling. We took the ATVs,
quads, fourwheelers, or whatever you would like to call them up and down a
series of trails and logging roads up behind the land my parent’s and I live
on. After an hour or so we left one of the vehicles in some brush overlooking
what my dad calls “The Cataclysmic Event,” where a cliff of pure clay fell into
the river years ago, leaving behind a steep slope down to a flat
semi-moonscape. Riding together, we took the other ATV back to my house, where
we parked it and hiked up the river that runs past our property until we
finally came to the Event again, picked up the other ATV and rode home one last
time.
Those were the major activities of my time off. I filled the
other hours with Civilization V, a few movies, rereading a couple of the Percy
Jackson novels, running a D&D campaign based on a book that I may someday
get back to writing, taking walks with the dogs, and all the other bits and
pieces that make up a life. I went no where, which was a joy after the last
serious vacation I took.
Have I ever told you about the world I live in now? I think
not. Tomorrow, then.
And a thousand words, goodnight.
-m0rg4n
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