Road Stats

I'm cozied into my friends Daphne and Emily's guest bedroom here in the Mt.Baker neighborhood of Seattle.  Emily is in the kitchen, brewing up tinctures made with herbs and flowers from the community garden.  The sun is high in the southeastern sky. While it routinely ignores Seattle much of the fall, winter and spring, this sun ain't got nothin' but full devotion to this city at present.

It is full-tilt lush here with edible gardens in many nooks of Mt. Baker.  Construction workers are digging a trench next door.  Their conversations include flavored sparkling water, using essential oils for congestion, and how the other slept last night.
Awww, Seattle, a Patchouli-Lovers Paradise.

Lest you think I found my utopia, I'd like to draw your attention to a story about a package. Said package was robbed off someone's front porch, and the thief threw the packaging away in the bus stop garbage bin before making off with the goods. A couple days later, the people who were robbed received a note from a neighbor. This neighbor wanted to let them know she found the packaging in the bus stop bin and  1) it's recyclable and  2) should not be placed in the community garbage bin but rather their personal garbage.
Awww, Seattle, Home of the Hall Monitors. No thanks.


It has been five weeks since I left our nation's capital. Here are some stats from the trip thus far:

Miles on my chariot to date this trip:  3,800 miles
Number of corn silos turned into gas stations:   1

Number of times I've spun "All About the Bass" at full volume:  40

Number of times pulled over:  1.
I was just over the border of Kansas, near Missouri. It was 11pm. When I told the cop what I was up to,  he gave me tips on sightseeing in Wyoming and Oregon, and told me to add Alaska to my plans. Then he let me go without a ticket or written warning. My bra was hanging from the rear-view mirror when he pulled me over. I thought maybe that was banned in Kansas. As it turns out, I was going 54 mph in a 35 mph zone, and that was why he pulled me over.
Conclusion:  everyone, it is okay to hang your bra from your rear-view in Kansas.  So, go on and let it hang!

Number of hitchhikers I begrudgingly passed:    9.  
One had a banjo.

Stupidest decision I've made to date:  I drove 23 hours in a row.
I mean, I still don't think it was a horrible decision.
My mom had a different take-away on this one.
It was pretty cool to drive through Kansas under an almost-full and supermoon sky. And I was excited to get to Colorado. I was on a northern route, less traveled by the routine road crew. I passed seven cars through the entire state…and one fox-like animal... and three towns… and one, maybe two, trees. And  I never felt tired. Was it the pack of cigarettes I purchased at the border with  large-ass Snickers bar chaser? Mika's "Happy Ending" on mind-numbing repeat?  I did,, however, start to hallucinate. When the road became blood-streaked and it started snowing at 55F, I knew it was time for a nap. Thanks to Children of the Corn, I had to wait awhile to pull over until I was clearly in a town, and given I passed only three towns in 7 hours, the rest stop took a minute to reach. I was ready to skip over the KS-CO state line after my nap-coma, which was 45 minutes long, tucked snugly between my massage table and collapsible bike.

Take-Aways thus far:

• This country is vast and incredibly diverse in every sense.  I knew this, but to see/smell/feel it is a whole different ball of goodness and awe.
• I didn't really need to go anywhere to grieve or write.  I'm happy I did.  But I didn't need to. 
• The 80% of shit I packed that I didn't think I'd use is so not being used.  I wear the same obnoxiously-happy pants I got at a Brisbane flea market in 1997 almost every day.  
• My mother was right about everything.  This reality is going to take a few more decades to digest. 
• I like having a schedule and a job a bit more than I realized.  A lot more actually.
• This trip has been less about meeting new folks and more about re-connecting with dear, old friends.  I have the honor of being friends with some really fantastic, loving, fun people along these here highways.  I'm looking at you all of 15853, Katie, Brooke, Whitney, Jaime, Sandra, Concetta, Karl, Colleen, Lindsey, Scott, Myrna, Ken, Tashia, John, Jefferson, Daphne, Emily, Grace, Meg and Merrisa.  And Cowboy Jim. 

Next stop is today, and it is MAINE!  I will fly from Seattle to Maine to explore, well, many things.  Stay tuned! 

Li'l Stella the Great

Meanderer Spotlight:
Stella B.
Missoula, Montana


Stella and her brothers were quite the hospitality crew. They all stood in the cul-de-sac, waving me in as I arrived from DuBois, WY.  The smile you see above is the smile I got in the driveway, and the smile I got for roughly 93% of my visit with this awesome family.

I knew Stella was good people from the go. Here's a couple examples:

Stella is a straight shooter.  She lets you know what's what and doesn't waste time or mince words.  

I set down my bags and joined the family - Scott, Lindsey, Wesley, Lucas, Max and Stella - in the kitchen.  The kids were playing the video for "What Does the Fox Say" at a spirited volume as Scott, Lindsey and I started catch-up chat over dinner prep.

Stella: Sawah!
Me: <smiles at Stella and looks back at parents, in midst of conversation>
Stella:  Sawaaaaah!!
Stella:  Saaaaaaawaaaahh!!
Me:  Yes, Stella, yes.  I'm listening…

Stella:  Uhmmm,  I have a 'gina.
Stella: <looking around the room>  Wesley has a penis.  <bite of her Rice Krispie treat.> Lucas has a penis. Max has a penis. Dad has a penis.  And mom has a 'gina.

Then Stella looked at the dog sitting on the porch just off the kitchen, looked up at me, then dog, then me, and decided to toss her in to round out introductions:  "Char Char has a 'gina too."

And with this, she lets out a sigh of relief having got all of that off her chest, and jaunts over to her brothers at the computer, Rice Krispie treat in tow.

Stella gently holds your face when she is telling you something.

Who does this?!? Stella will hold your face and look you in the eyes, non-verbally getting you completely on board with whatever tidbit or request she is about to lay on ya. It's quite the savvy strategy for the youngest of four.

I would like to create a federal law that mandates us all to do this when talking to one another.  In my book, it is pretty much the sweetest thing going.

Stella sets loving boundaries. 

After an hour or so of visiting, I just wanted to give her a squeeze.  I mean, I wanted to squeeze her upon first glance, but I felt after the hour mark a reasonable amount of time had passed. I decided to give it a go. She had said "yes" to a number of questions her brothers were asking ("Stella, are there aliens on Earth?" "Stella, can you fly?") so I felt probability was weighted in my favor.

Me: Stella, may I give you a hug?
She smiles at me…this is looking good….
Stella:  "NO!" <then a close-out smile>
The gail-force wind from her "no" rustled my bangs. It was evident to me that Lindsey and Scott had already sent her to self-defense class.  I appreciated her boundary setting…until the next day and tried again.  Win!! See above.

Stella has her own style.  It's also practical as it frees up her hands. Further, Stella beats to her own drum on Freedom to Bare Arms (and Toosh).

We hiked into a forest to a waterfall and natural swimming pool.  After snack, Stella stripped down to her birthday suit in front of everyone, then grabbed her bathing suit and took it behind a tree because she "wanted some privacy when she was getting dressed." 

To sum up:  

Nudity in public.

Robed in private. 

She is a serious hiker, seen here with her own Camelbak. 

Stella's fun-loving older brothers- Wesley, Lucas and Max (from left) 

Title of picture: "Born on a Wednesday:  Lookin' Both Ways for the Weekend"

I look forward to hanging out with Stella in years to come! I'm certain I will 1) gain new perspective from her 2) have a lot of fun and laugh a bunch and  3) lose my hearing.  

Love,

The Stella Fan Club

Which Coastest Has the Mostest?

Haylo and welcome to my travel blog!

Fasten your seatbelt. Or not. The ride is going pretty slow with a lot of pull-overs and U-turns to take it all in.

I was living in Washington DC -- mecca to the valedictorians and hall monitors from around the globe. I had a business in integrative bodywork that was going swimmingly. What better time to jump into the great void, close up shop and take to the scenic backroads and growling highways of North America?

Now.
I determined through intricate algorithms that the best time was Now.

My father passed away unexpectedly a few months ago.  I wasn't quite sure how to access even the most superficial layer of grief I was feeling. But something told me the open road with some time in grand, expansive badlands, wheat fields and crater lakes would provide some perspective, and a tree stomp or two would be available along the way to sit and reflect, to cry and to yell my hurt into the winds.

Further, I have never done a cross country trip.  What self-proclaimed nomadic hippie reaches the age of 38 without zig-zagging the country?!

So, now I go.
The 1998 Honda CRV is packed with shit I so likely won't use.


Ride shotgun with me awhile.  Or take a nap in the back.
Just know I'm in control of the radio.