Dear Diary 009: Summertime Fat Cat Dreams

Dreamy Fat Cat Escapes

I had a dream that I went on vacation and took the cats with me. I insisted on carrying them everywhere and eventually lost them.

I don’t usually interpret or write down dreams, but this one came after I calculated that I will have traveled away from home this year for 5 out of 12 months.

I have a nomadic heart but when does rootlessness become an issue? When do we need to stop and become grounded again?

Is this soil erosion?

I’m still excited.

My “Real” Job Might Kill Me

Ok, in truth I don’t have a “real” job. But the closest that I get is a regular gig I do for Columbia Sportswear that involves writing 17 cubic tons of product copy. It happens twice a year (Spring and Fall seasons) and involves briefings, multiple cross-referenced spreadsheets, education on interesting fabric technology and a couple hundred hours in front of a computer.

I’ve gotten pretty good at meting it all out in a cadence that keeps me from going nuts, but the final week is – as one might expect – always a kicker.

That was last week. And it kicked. Hard.

Packing up the Gypsy Wagon

Since my head did not explode as I’d worried might happen, I plan to pack up my Sicilian Bicycle Action Figure Boyfriend and drive the big rig south in the direction of cannoli wonderland.

There will be bikes and hiking and maybe sunburns.

There will be manicures and pedicures and probably a mall with Rosie the Shopping Queen.

It’s likely there will also be long runs through flat, suburban neighborhoods followed by big nights out with SF-grade cocktails and sparkly, wonderful downtempo DJs?

Additionally, there will be a pizza party of crazy proportions populated by little people with VERY LARGE VOICES.

Game on.

Summer is my Homeboy

It’s coming. It was hot and bright and downright technicolor last week in Portland. The whiteys came out with their long-assed legs and blinded us all.

We smiled through the eye-shielding because there ain’t much in the world that’s more satisfying than a bunch of Vitamin-D-deprived albinos slurping up an excess of sun-rays.

As the sun rolls in the adventure-planning reaches a fever pitch. There are mountains and rivers and all variety of natural majesty to visit. We have rigged a couple of touring-worthy bicycle machines for the purpose of pushing off into the sunset.

When you get right down to it, I mostly hate summer. So much humanity out in the world, pressing together in sweaty quarters. People start getting up extra early and invading my quiet morning hours (just wait til winter! They sleep in like large hibernating bears!).

The answer is escape. To the open road with heavy bags and roughly laid out itineraries. We’re heading north to the great land of Canada. For a month at least. I think.

That’s all I know for now.

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3 comments

  1. “The whitey’s came out with their long-assed legs and blinded us all” This just made my day.
    Pizza is in order before you leave.

  2. I warn everyone that they should carry sun glasses with them when ever they hang out with me outside. Life with no tan ever, sucks!

  3. Graydon

    Oddly enough, I’m almost 26yrs old and this is the first time I’ve ever left a comment on a blog. I’ve looked to your site periodically for entertainment, insight, and inspiration since you were an everyday athlete. Keep on writing/blogging, it’s great.

    More importantly though, I wanted to welcome you to Canada, and wish you the best on your adventures here in the great white north.

    If you’re cycling through BC, you’ll likely meet many friendly and fun people, and many of them will originally be from Ontario (Canadian geography lesson for those a little sketchy on Canadian geography: Ontario is a “province” in central-ish Canada and has a greater population than all the “provinces” to it’s west combined). :P Hence many wise, adventurous, good looking, intelligent (well, the list goes on really) people move to the Pacific Northwest from there.

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