Sunday, August 10, 2014


So, Washington State. The Olympic Peninsula. Almost freakishly beautiful. Yes. Each element is exceptional: the waters, the cold stony beaches,1 the islands, the forests, the mountains. And their weird proximity to each other, all bumped up together in this faraway corner of the contiguous U.S. (CONUS). I couldn't live there. I'm ensnared too deeply in our funky southern web. But a week, hiking the ups and downs,2 craning our necks at the ancient trees, dipping our feet in the frigid summer waters. Mighty fine, mighty fine indeed.3

And 'twas a last calm cool breath before we return to the hustle bustle of the school year.4 Hi ho, hi ho...

1 I faced a painful conundrum. The beaches were strewn with some of the best skipping rocks ever — the perfect size and weight and heft and flatness and rotundity. But the waters were determinedly un-skip-friendly, endless mild breaking waves. Nonetheless, I found my opportunities, skipping in the brief placid lulls — getting frequently two, and occasionally six or eight skips — before the next wave came crashing forth. (Rock skipping was one of the little joys of my youth.)

2 We're mighty flat in New Orleans. Ups and downs are a novelty — and a cardiovascular challenge.

3 Plus the girls got a little dose of Twilight tourism. Plus we snuck in a day in Seattle. (Ramen and and shoppinga and sushi. Mmm...)
a I got a fresh pair of black Doc Marten shoes, a deviant but happy variation on my personal uniform.
4 Not that we ever get all that hustle-y and bustle-y.

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