My feet hurt. Since bringing Harley the Dog home, I have walked nearly 600 miles, that’s the distance between my home in Seattle and Lake Shasta in Northern California. Aching dogs aside (ha, get it?) it’s been lovely. I was healthier than usual this winter, I got to see the neighborhood burst into full flower this spring, and over the last week or so, I’ve noticed that the bees are back, humming away in the wild irises in the park below my house, in the ceanothus bushes, in the peas that are flowering in my own backyard. I planted tomatoes and dahlias, in spite of the fact that I’m a terrible gardener — perhaps because of that, as they’re so forgiving — and have been drying my laundry on the line again.
All this makes me sound like someone has stolen my brain and replaced it with one of the Gwyneth Paltrow line of brains, but I assure you that is not the case. Consider all this domesticity a cover for amassing an army of minions, or engaging in mad scientist pursuits, or the truth, which is that I’m occupied with what the people called “paying work.” I’m in the midst of a large project with the Seattle Cancer Care Alliance (I’m the lead writer on a web redesign), I’m bidding a public works hydro-electric project, and I have a handful of smaller travel things in the works. Writing, it’s a living, it’s *my* living, and sometimes, it means the neighborhood is the extant of my adventures. It’s a good thing I really love where I live.
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Backpacking with Dracula: My writer friend Leif Pettersen was a Lonely Planet author for many years. He’s also a funny guy and an exhaustive researcher. I’ve not finished his book yet, but so far, his mix of guidebook, history, and personal narrative is proving equal parts squirm inducing (the real Dracula was a real jerk), educational, and entertaining. I recently made a very tentative plan to go road-tripping in the “ias” (Romania, Croatia, Albania…) with a friend, so Leif’s book is providing some interesting context for what it might be like to buzz around that part of the world.
Quitting your job to travel isn’t brave. It’s lucky. I kind of lost my mind last week over an interview with yet another privileged white boy who quit his marketing job to swan about the globe selling snake oil about how you, too, can Quit Your Job And Live Your Dream… bah, let’s not get bogged down in that. Instead, let’s focus on my writer friend Geraldine DeRuiter who takes down this all too prevalent narrative.
The problem I have is with the recurring narrative that quitting your job to travel the world is inherently a noble act, when sometimes it just means that you are very, very fortunate. Fortunate to have a strong support system of people who will let you crash with them. Fortunate enough to have a substantial amount of savings to draw from, or parents who will let you use their home as your forwarding address, or fortunate enough to be able to leave for months at a time without worrying about treating chronic illness or paying down your debt.
Read the whole thing here, on The Everywhereist. And not so confidential to all Colins: Get off my lawn.
Zus USB Car Charger: I still get items to review from time to time; I like good gizmos, so I said yes to this one. My car didn’t come with USB ports — I think they’re fairly standard now — so this was a handy addition. That said, I just don’t feel strongly about this particular model. The last time I was traveling I bought the cheapest possible USB/cigarette lighter adapter from a drug store and it worked fine, so take that for what it’s worth.
The Seattle Castaways, Seattle’s Loudest Ukulele Band: It’s been ages since my band has been out to play in public; I had forgotten just how fun it can be. We’ve been rehearsing at a steady pace but it is not the same thing as standing on a stage with an audience in front of you. I’ll admit to being skeptical — we played the food court at Crossroads Mall — but it turned out to be great. They have a real stage, a sound guy who knows what he’s doing (thank you, Bob, you made us sound terrific) and they bring in a nice crowd. My writer friend Jet Harrington showed up to see us play; it’s always so nice to have friends in the audience. We have a few more shows on deck; the best place to find those is on our Facebook page.
Why Every Woman Should Travel Alone: I was interviewed, along with my writer friend Eileen Smith, for this piece on solo travel. We both agree that you should not wear stupid shoes, though I’m the only one who called them stupid shoes.
Both Ways Cafe and Bakery: My writer friend Lisa Jaffe took me out to breakfast at this little corner cafe in her new neighborhood. They make a righteous pile up of roasted potatoes and eggs, and a quality biscuit, too. It’s a cute little place and when the weather is good — it was when we went — you can sit at one of the sidewalk tables. I love a good diner breakfast and this one was very, very good. Go with a writer friend on a sunny weekday.
Flying Squirrel Pizza – next to Both Ways Cafe – bakes up a pretty nice pie, too. But I don’t want to do too many shoutouts for the ‘hood. It’s in the death throes of full-on gentrification but I keep hoping to slow it down.