Bleh. I am in a post-vacation funkaroo. After five sun- and fun-filled days in Mexico, I now have a cold and too much work to do.

Plus I have to start cooking for myself again.

While staying on Eric and Valerie's boat in La Paz, we were treated like royalty - eating fresh Mexican food prepared by Valerie every day, including (but not limited to): fish tacos, tamales, grilled shrimp, tostadas, tropical fruit salad, homemade guacamole, and margaritas.

Lots of margaritas.

Besides eat and drink, all we did was sleep, read, swim, snorkel, sail, watch movies, and hike on deserted beaches.

And now my brain is expected work?


Ha ha.

Since there are no cute pictures of me in a bathing suit or mixing a margarita (sorry Teahouse Blossom!), I instead give you Dave enjoying a margarita (on the wave-lashed Pacific), along with some other photogenic moments.

2010 Starts with a Bang

Happy 2010 everybody! The year has started off with five extra pounds and a lot of work flowing in. Whoohoo!

But work will just have to wait, because on Tuesday, we're off to visit Eric and Valerie in their yacht in La Paz, Mexico (the place where Loser was once bitten by a sea lion, ha ha).

I'm trying to lose those pounds, naturally, so as to look good in the bathing suit I'll be wearing 24/7. Dave is busy figuring out how to create a margarita-mixing station that he can attach to a snorkel.

Seriously though. It has been too long since I've had a sunny vacation. And I think I deserve it after the financially precarious slog that was 2009. Oh wait, I guess I did go biking in Finland. And kayaking and skiing in British Columbia. And backpacking in the Cascades. And mountain biking in Eastern Washington. But never mind about that.

(As you can see in the photo above, I was backpacking practically before I could walk. Back then, apparently, I actually managed to look stylish in the process.)

I need a REAL vacation. Like the kind where you get tan and snorkel with sea creatures! And stay with your long-lost friends on their yacht! After that I have a packed-full Hugo House class to look forward to, in which I will propel 15 eager students toward the goal of writing a draft of a book in six weeks.

Plus a blogging class in March and a whole bunch of other stuff that I can't think about now because it's time to go buy some sunblock and unearth my summer clothing. After January 19th, however, I'll return to the realities of a Seattle winter and start working in earnest.

Things I Have Done in November: A List

I will have you know that I have already put three whole holiday gifts in the mail, which is very organized, don't you think?

I also completed a novel for National Novel Writing Month while tackling a high-stress, all-consuming editing project.

Additionally, I watched many episodes of Big Love. There's just something about immersing yourselves in the trials and tribulations of a polygamist family that's a good antidote to stress.

I taught a day-long blogging workshop at Richard Hugo House, one of my favorite places in all the world. It was a good class but it made me I realize I prefer longer classes where I get to know my students. (Speaking of which I have one coming up in January, so check my web site for more info!)

This week, for the first time, I also met the high-school students that I'll be co-leading to Morocco this summer. That really energized me after being cooped up in my condo for a month with my gassy but adorable pug (posing above with his special commemorative pillow) editing until I was cross-eyed, and indulging in too much polygamist soap opera. They seem like an amazing and accomplished group of kids and I think I will learn so much by being involved with them, and with this project.

And last but not least on this *spine-tingling* list, I went on the first ski of the season at our old favorite haunt, the Cabin Creek Sno-Park.

We had the exhilarating little ups and downs mostly to ourselves since no one else was out there on the day after Thanksgiving. It was very satisfying when Dave wiped out trying to pass me on a hill; I only wish we had a video if it.

In the good old days, we always skied there with our dear friends Eric and Valerie, who recently sailed off to the southern hempishere on their boat (along with their intrepid cat, Miette).

Sailing all the way from Seattle to La Paz, Mexico, they've braved huge swells, storms, broken sails, and whales that actually attacked a boat in their regatta on the way from San Diego to Baja! You can read about their adventures here.

Meanwhile I'm trying to be patient until my own next big adventure...and trying to remember that LIFE ITSELF is an adventure even if it's feeling dull because I haven't been to a foreign country in FOUR WHOLE MONTHS.

Ahem. Have I convinced you yet?

Return from Vacation Alive - Check!

I am back from a week of paddling in the Canadian wild! Tan, rested, raring to go. We kayaked for five days in 80-degree weather: lounging on white sand beaches, paddling protected aqua waters, drinking red wine from our beachfront campsites while watching the sun go down.

Oh, there was mouse poop and banana slugs and snakes, but compared to last summer's Alaskan grizzlies, they didn't disturb me at all. Starfish and sea lions were our main animal companions on this sun-dazzled journey in the Broken Group Islands off west Vancouver Island.

We did, however, have on exciting wildlife encounter. Here's a snippet from an article I'm writing about it; you'll just have to wait until it gets published to read it all! (And if you haven't ready my article about last year's Alaska paddle, you can download it in PDF format here).

I’d just put down my book and pulled my sleeping bag around me when a loud noise broke the silence of our coastal campsite. Crash! Snort!Indeterminate rustlings!

“What the--?” Dave sat up straight. He peered out into the night through the door of our tent but his headlamp didn’t make a dent in the blackness. My mind groped at possibilities. My heart launched into a rock and roll beat. Deer? Wolf? Escaped prisoner in a murderous rage? Bear?

Now it's back to the grind (granted my "grind" is rather slow these days) but also to the dreaded MOVE. Yes Dave and I are moving back to my condo in Queen Anne for long, boring reasons I shall not go into.

Just pray for us, that's all I can say. Hope that there is not a repeat of our dramatic meltdown of the last year's move, which involved me topless and sobbing in a heat wave throwing bottles of household cleaner at Dave. (Although if there is a repeat this year, we really hope to catch it on video).

xo, Rebecca

The Great Finnish Adventure, Part II

...Continued from last week

All right, I know you're wondering whether I made it out of the Turku Archipelago alive. But guess what? I did!! So, without further delay, the second installment.

Day 4, continued. When I arrive in the town of Turku I meet my second couchsurfing host, tall blonde Thomas, who kindly greets me at the train station. Next I venture into the center of Turku proper, where the only truly touristy thing I do is go to the grand 13th-century Turku Cathedral. Then I wander around the Turku Public Library, initially looking for Internet access but getting drawn in by how sparkling and hip the library is. Eventually I end up at the Turku Art Museum high on a hill, a stunning old building with a big photograph of a naked woman outside it advertising the latest exhibit (see photo below). I drink a glass of Hungarian wine in the hushed and relaxing museum cafe. (At left above: Turku public library)

The rest of the day speeds by; I meet with friendly Dafna from Saaritours who helps me plan my bike trip and arranges everything for me. Thomas and I eat dinner at a funky, delicious restaurant called Kerttu; I shop for supplies for my bike trip (1. bread 2. cheese 3. chocolate); then walk back to Thomas's place with a blister that's grown to half the size of my foot (thank God I'll be mostly biking, not walking, the next few days).

Day 5. At last I am on my rented bicyclette! I pedal out of Turku on a super-duper bike path that makes me feel as if I never want to bike in the U.S. again. I am doing part of what's known as the "Archipelago Ring Route," which takes you over several of the 20,000-some islands in the Turku Archipelago via a combination of bridges and ferries. Unfortunately it's early season so many of the ferries aren't running yet. Instead of doing a loop as cyclists normally do, I am doing an out and back route. But hey, it beats sitting at home in Seattle where it's undoubtedly raining. (Um, it's raining here too on this particular day but never mind that).

My first destination is the island of Nauvo, some 45 or so kilometers away. At first the scenery is dull and urban with a few too many cars. But when I take the ferry from the island of Pargas to the island of Nauvo, suddenly I am out in the country, surrounded by the placid Baltic sea and empty(ish) roads.

The ferry is nothing like the monstrosities we have here in Washington state that holds hundreds of cars and passengers. No, this bright yellow raft-like vehicle carries only about three cars and me. We scurry across the water in about 10 minutes. I'm glad it's sunny by this time because there's no place to go inside. Everyone stays in their cars and I stand by my bike. (At right, the ferry from a distance).

Because I fail to consult my map I end up riding almost 10 kilometers too far when I am already exhausted. Luckily a road sign confuses me and I take out the map to puzzle over it. I realize I've gone too far and missed the turnoff for my guesthouse. But just exactly where is it? (The map I have is somewhat less than stellar. Combine that with my less than stellar navigation skills and I have no idea where the h*ll I am.) Thank God for cell phones. In Finland, they actually work everywhere because that's all anyone uses.

A few calls and everything is cleared up. I backtrack, turn off the main road and find myself pedaling along incredibly tranquil roads. Leafy. Sun-dappled. With calm bays and red cottages around every corner. Finally I reach my lodging in a "town" called Gyttja. If you can call a few houses, one guesthouse, and a jetty a "town." (At left, the Gyttja guesthouse.)

To be continued! (I know, the tension is unbearable, isn't it?)

Fun Times in Finland

I know you're all *dying* to know just exactly what happened in Finland. You haven't been able to eat or sleep wondering what the hell did she actually do there? How did she survive? Was it dark all the time? And how much cheese did she really eat?

You know, like in the old days when you were on the edge of your seat waiting to hear about my next date with The Doctor or Silent But Deadly Boy or (pick a random silly nickname here). Only now you want to hear the blow-by-blow about my travels through a far-flung country you know nothing about. Well here you have the first half of my ABSOLUTELY AMAZING ADVENTURE (TM). Stay tuned for the rest.

Day 1. Arrive in Helsinki to sunny skies. Utilize amazing, easy-to-use transportation system to whisk myself to the city; meet my couchsurfing host #1, Hilkka, who lives in an apartment just outside the city center.Together we have "evening tea:" that is, bread, meat, and lots of cheese. The sun stays out til 10:30.

Day 2. After a breakfast of dark, delicious Finnish bread, meat, and lots of cheese, meet up with my long-lost friend GalPal #1 and family in Helsinki in crisp, clear weather. We stroll the "Esplanadi," where the outdoor cafes are full and summer is in the air. Jet lag hits full force around 3 in the afternoon. Too bad there's still eight more hours of daylight.

Day 3. Fueled by a breakfast of bread, meat, and lots of cheese, do more sightseeing

in sunny Helsinki, including dining at the outdoor market (with the Baltic sea a few feet away), strolling around the "Kauppatori" (fish market), and visiting the quiet neighborhood of Katajanokka Island, the centerpiece of which is an elaborate Russian orthodox church that sits like a giant ocher confection on a hill overlooking the city.

Day 4. A morning meal of bread, meat, and lots of cheese propel me to the train station where I say goodbye to Hilkka and board a train for Turku, the oldest town in Finland. I am very impressed by the high-tech, spacious bathrooms on the train, so unlike the small stinky stalls one finds on Amtrak. As the rather bland scenery speeds by, I am mentally preparing my four day solo bike trek through the wild and wooly "Turku archipelago" with its thousands of islands.

• Will I be able to navigate all by myself or will I end up living on some remote Finnish island because I get so irrevocably lost I can't make it back?


• Will there be food to eat besides Baltic herring and (of course) cheese? Will it be as horrible as American food is in out-of-the-way places?


• What if I get chased by a moose?

Tune in next time to find out about high adventure in the Turku archipelago!

TO BE CONTINUED

Welcome Home to Me!

When would a person such as moi have 1)gotten up 2)walked the dog 3)drank an overly large Peet's coffee, and 4)scribbled pages of caffeinated notes for various articles, all by 9 a.m.?

Or, even better, already have gone to a Nordstrom Rack sale and spent $150 on clothing by 10 a.m.?

When one is jet-lagged of course! Never mind the crankiness that befalls me when I have to return to daily life after a trip. Even the shortest getaway brings on this malaise, so you can imagine what it's like returning from Europe and facing my jobless future in an exhausted state.

Like I said, never mind. We'll let my poor boyfriend bear the brunt of that. I'll just say for now that my trip was full of sun and adventure and bad coffee (but at least there was a lot of it.)

I "couchsurfed" with strangers who were warm and generous; biked across Finnish countryside so tranquil that it was, at times creepy; and ate far, far too much cheese.

I left determined to come back with a career "strategy" but came back only with high cholesterol, More later, when I am coherent. For now, these few pictures can tell the tale.

Sandal Season!

Last week I got my first pedicure in ages and just in time -- it's sandal season! Well, almost. Just because we are having a few sunny days here in Seattle doesn't mean that it's not going back to rainy cold nastiness. It undoubtedly will.

But I did actually take my sandals out of "winter storage" for the first time to show off my sparkly pink toes to the world. They were previously hideous due to a variety of deformities and broken toenails caused by ski boots and God knows what else. I could never quite achieve Inner Peace in Yoga class because I was always looking enviously at everyone else's toenails, hoping they weren't looking at mine.

In other news, I am sort-of-frantically preparing for my upcoming trip to Finland. I now have total of three couches to sleep, on due to my active membership in Couchsurfing.com: the generous Hilkka, Caizu, and Thomas. Why I've gotten so into it that Dave and I are even offering ourselves up as hosts now! (As long as our guests don't mind a lot of dog hair and few screaming fights with household cleaning products flying through the air.* )

And back to sandals...I have not yet decided whether to bring a pair to Finland with me, where the weather is promising to be 50 degrees and sort-of-actually-sunny. If I do, should I bring my "dressy" sandals so as to show off aforementioned sparkly pink toes, or my "sport" sandals to bring with my on my mini bike tour through the Aland Islands?

It will be one of those tough, last-minute calls. I am especially fond of the new Tevas I bought last year, the Karnali Wraptors (which they claim shows off your pedicure but most decidedly do not!) As usual I bought quickly with no previous research, for my trip to Alaska.

Had I actually been researching, I might have watched this video about Keen sandals from my pal Webtogs, who have a series of helpful videos about outdoor gear on YouTube. Since I will shortly be in the market for new hiking boots, I'm hoping they'll have a video about that soon. I imagine they will since they offer a lot of walking boots on their site.

So, back to vacation. If I don't chat with you again before my departure on April 24, perhaps we will speak again from the frozen north (even more frozen than Seattle).

[*OK, household products only flew through the air once, when we were in the midst of moving, when one can totally justify having a mini-nervous breakdown.]

Hail hail the IRS!

At least I am making an honest living these days. Except I am not actually making a living but never mind that for now.

This week I am working my a*s off (writing, teaching) and earning every one of the few pennies that I make. Whereas whenever I go to work for - well, you know who, I have so many names for the giant, bloated behmoth to the east - I am rolling in dough while hardly having to lift a finger.

I can't decide which I like better. Or worse. Or whatever. I do know I'm grateful to have work - any work! - and I like feeling honest rather than like some corporate slug.

Yet, would it not be for ye olde IRS refunding me a bunch of moola this month (Thank God for deductions! That kayak - yeah, a business expense! Trip to Alaska - deduct) I would not have enough to pay my bills in April nor for my upcoming trip to *Finland* where I will be crashing on the couches of friendly Finlandians via the rather impressive site Couchsurfing.com.

Anyway, I really don't have time to talk to you right now so goodbye.

xo
Rebecca (currently clad in dog-haired covered fleece, a stocking cap, and Tevas, thoroughly grateful that the paparazzi is not stalking her anymore because God, she looks awful)

Kindergarteners Rock

It is hard to maintain one's blahness when 20 kindgergartners rush you and hug you, exclaiming, "Miss Rebecca, I've missed you!" "Miss Rebecca, I love you!"

Which is what happens to me about once a month when I read stories to a kindgergarten class in Seattle through Page Ahead.

No matter how glum I feel, no matter how bad my hair looks, no matter how dog-hair-covered and dilapidated my clothes (if I may take the liberty of using that word to describe clothes, and I will, because I'm a Writer with a capital "W") their unconditional love makes me feel better. Briefly.

Until I go back home, where no phone messages are waiting to tell me I have a job. Where no emails offering employment fill my inbox. Where, it's true, my dog greets me with great enthusiasm but mainly because he thinks he's going to get dinner even though it's only 2 p.m.

But enough whining. There are people a lot worse off than me. It's just hard not to feel down when there's nary a prospect of employment in sight and your meager savings are poised to dwindle rapidly while the debt incurred from LAST YEARS' stint of unemployment is about to go up, up, up.

Which makes it a perfect time to go to Europe, dontchya think? Especially if you bought a nonrefundable ticket back in December! So off I shall go at the end of April to Helsinki, where GalPal #1 has been having babies and braving eternal darkness.

In the spirit of adventure and saving money, I just signed up on CouchSurfing.com and have already found one potential couch to sleep on. Back in my Geeksoft days, when I could barely keep track of all the money rolling in, I would have never deigned to sleep on the couch of a stranger. I would have stayed in some fancy, sterile hotel, getting older and more fossilized by the minute. But now...well...I like to think that my (relative) poverty is making me more adventurous.

That's looking on the bright side, n'est-ce pas? Meanwhile if anyone has any recommendations for where to go or what to do in Finland in early spring, do tell! (Photo above courtesy of The Rating System).

Oh! And speaking of travel, my friend Dave Fox, travel writer and tour guide extraordinaire, is teaching an intensive class on travel journaling that looks like a lot of fun and is a great deal to boot. So those of you in Seattle, check it out.

Brown Bears in Alaska, Moving Boxes in Greenlake

Yours truly has returned from the Great White North and gone all the way south to Moving Hell. OK, so maybe it's Moving Purgatory now. But whatever it is, it's transition and it's hard.

Things have started to get organized but there are still random pieces of furniture scattered hither and thither, and numerous unpacked boxes, which have been stored in the haunted basement for me to deal with "later" (i.e. next time I move).

I also can't find any of my clothes and currently have a "nighstand" made of unpacked boxes. (Hmm, I bet THAT'S where my clothes are!)

The dog has not adjusted well to the move and starts making an unholy racket in his crate every morning at about, oh, 5 a.m. We try to ignore him and show him who's boss, but this morning the racket got so loud I had to check on him to make sure he wasn't suffering mortal injuries.

But nooo. Once I opened the door, he trotted out healthy as can be, wagged his curly tail, and waited expectantly for me to take him on his morning walk around the neighborhood. Which I did NOT, thank you very much. I grumpily took him outside to the yard, then put him back in the torture chamber where he finally went back to sleep after another half hour of caterwauling.

Anyway, I am sorry to whine. I have many non-whiny things to say about everything. Like how stunningly beautiful and mind-blowing Alaska was. And how it was the most intense wilderness camping I've ever done in my life -- with no people around for miles, a churning ocean between you and safety, and brown bears (aka GRIZZLIES but BIGGER) hanging about nearby.

But it might have to wait for another time when I am cranky and less sleep-deprived to wax poetic about that.

I also have more to say about dogs. Like why is it so much easier to shower love ondogs than people? Even when dogs make you so mad, i.e. by waking you up at 5 a.m., you can't hold it against them and you constantly hug and kiss them and tell them how lucky you are to have found them, how they are your best buddy, how cute they are, etc. Do you know how much more often I say these things to my dog than to my boyfriend? Ahem.

And speaking of that, when you go for walks and see people with cute dogs, why can you only ask the name of the dog and not the person? WHY? And why can you pet any old cute dog that you see and not the person, even if they are cute and adorable and you want them to be your friend??

Sigh. I'm a bit lonely here north of the ship canal bridge. Can you tell I need some new friends?

Delirious in Juneau

Yes, yes, I have been gone but I'm not dead. Although I might be soon, seeing as I am Juneau, Alaska (rainy!), about to embark on a kayaking trip in Glacier Bay National Park toute solo except for the boyfriend.

You know, I wouldn't be quite so worried except for the grizzly bear factor. Although I should probably be more scared of the the moose. That is, if we don't flip over and drown and/or freeze to death in quick order, or possibly, get crushed by a calving glacier.

Things did not get off to a smooth start at the airport this morning when I *forgot* to bring the "bonus ticket" that would have allowed me to fly for free (and which I had used to secure my flight months ago), and therefore had to fork over $600 bucks if I wanted to get on my flight.

Well, naturally, I did fork it over, because you know how well I'm doing financially - hey, I still have a couple thou left on my credit card before it maxes out! I can only pray I did something smart with that bonus ticket like "file" it at home - which always gets me in trouble. Whenever I "file" something instead of leaving it on the massive pile of paperwork that generally adorns my dining room table, it disappears from my pathetic memory, which has been recently more overwhelmed than usual by MOVING.

Yes, we found a place to live that wasn't in some far-flung wasteland but in fact right in the city with plenty of room and hardwood floors and a yard and basement (albeit one with dirt floors, numerous frighteningly dark crannies that I assume house a ghost of some sort --- after all the house is almost 100 years old -- and that the pug insists on exploring every time we makde a foray into the basement. One of these days he will lead me straight to the ghost, just like in the movies, and that will be the end of things, unless of course it's a friendly ghost, but only time will tell.)

Yet-to-be-discovered ghost aside, it is a very pleasant and spacious house, except for a few minor things like, oh, the windows don't open and none of my furniture fits in it. Moving went as smoothly as moving could go, which is to say, not very, although it really only entailed one screaming fight that happened at the very end when we were both exhausted and involved me throwing 1)a bottle of all-purpose cleaner and 2)a package of dog biscuits at Dave, who luckily dodged them both.

Anyway. Where was I? Oh yes, Juneau. It is rainy and cold, much like Seattle, so I feel right at home. Mountains rise up right around the streets of downtown, which are twisty and turny and steep. There are lots of people in rubber boots as well as grizzled old men who look like sea captains. I thought flying into Seattle was scenic, but when you land in Juneau, you plunge right into a luminous gray green mountain seascape. (Is that phrase gramatically correct? I am so f*cking delirious I cannot tell.)

And yes, I am very much looking forward to our flight to Glacier Bay on a tiny plane in thick gray clouds, and perhaps a little thunder if we're lucky, thanks for asking.

I'm sorry I have no charming photos for you today of my pug in a sweater or some such thing. One day soon things will be back to normal. Maybe. Anyway, I will talk to you all when (if) I return.

xo
Rebecca

Me No Like Driving in Snow

Sigh. Not to complain or anything but the freelance lifestyle is giving me a headache. (That is the front of my new vest. More about that later.)

Working by myself has lost some of its allure. Oh sure I get to hang out in cafe after cafe but sometimes you just get a little jaded by that. And how many grande extra hot soy lattes can I drink in a day anyway before I start moving on to more fattening things or alcoholic beverages?

I like my new gig at Mt. Rainier. But that has its challenges too. It's like going on vacation and coming back once a week, with all the attendant excitement and anticlimax and packing and unpacking and garbage starting to smell while you're gone and ignoring more practical tasks that you should be doing (ie practicing piano or earning a living). Let's not even discuss snow driving.

I don't do snow. I grew up in California and never drove in the damn snow. There are no passes that you have to cross to get to Mt. Rainier, which fooled me into thinking that I wouldn't have to deal much with snow, but I forgot. It is - literally - one of the SNOWIEST PLACES ON EARTH. In 1972, it held the world record for snowfall!

Last week not only did I have knock two feet of snow off my car(with a tiny, ineffectual ice scraper suitable for tiny amounts of ice), which resulted in snow all over me and inside my car, I then had to drive for at least thirty miles on icy, snowy roads on a two lane highway in the dark with snow doing that horizontal thing it does that makes you all disoriented. Yes, those of you from snowier parts of this country can MOCK ME NOW.

I've never been so happy to see the strip-mauled suburb of South Hill (known as as "South Hell" as those who drive through it all the time), with its lights and many lanes and rain instead of snow.

In other news, I bought a new vest. Last week I wore this vest to a party at which I encountered the Seattle rock star Rachel Flotard of Visqueen. I saw Rachel perform last spring at the Sasquatch Festival and wished that I could be just like her. So when she showed up at this party, I was too shy to speak to her for most of the night.But when I did, she was quite charming and friendly. AND she raved about my brand-new used vest I had bought that very day at Buffalo Exchange. I glowed with her compliments for the next two days. (That is the back of my vest.)

Then, just yesterday, I saw her again in Victrola (whose help has gotten kind of surly, I must say) and I was wearing the same vest! (Wouldn't you wear this vest every day if it was yours?) Anyway, I deliberately avoided her and luckily she did not see me.

OK, this story needs a better ending. But I don't have one.This is the kind of situation Teahouse Blossom--the queen of slice-of-life vignettes -- would write about. Only she would give it a punchy ending and write about it better than me.

Do What You Love and...You Know the Rest

So I recently scored a rather dreamy gig being writer-in-residence at Mount Rainier National Park (one of the most beautiful places in the world). I don't know if I'm offically called "writer in residence" but that's what I'm calling myself cause it sounds cool.

It involves hanging out a lot at the park; helping update and expand their climbing blog; "patrolling" the area on skis so I can write about it; helping them develop their artistic programs, and partying with the climbing rangers. Here is a picture of the "office" from just the other day.

I'm not really getting paid, naturally, because that would be much too practical for me. As I've said before (or some variation on it), "Do what you love and you'll be forever f*cking broke."

Happy 2008

OK! I think I have finally recovered enough from the holidays to blog again. My waistline, perhaps, has not recovered from the many pounds of cheese, potato chips, and pizza consumed during my ski trip to the Methow Valley in Eastern Washington--but I overcame my post-holiday blues during a single day of frenzied closet-cleaning and am now back to my usual level of productivity. (Sleep: Nine hours per day. Work: Four hours per day. The rest: Who knows?).

My trip, thank you very much, was delightful - full of blindingly blue skies, powdery white snow, freezing temperatures, and mountains seemingly devoid of people except for us.
They all teemed along the groomed cross-country trails on the valley floor. On "The Methow Valley Community Trail", you can ski for miles and miles past farms, through forest,over charming country bridges draped in snow.

The smiling, spandex clad skate skiers probably teemed along the many other groomed trails too - however, we were too cheap go on those trails, since they cost you a whopping $20 a day. Besides, we hate people.

And once we stepped off the groomers,it was as if we had the entire valley to ourselves. Including one area with wide-open powder slopes and expansive views (only minutes from the road) that we yo yo'd up and down with great gusto, because what more could you want? (Except maybe a lot of money, a book on the bestseller list, a vacation home on an island, and eternal life).

Now I'm back in cold, rainy Seattle where there is no structure in my mostly-unemployed life except that which I create myself. However, I've mostly gotten used to that, carving a structure out of nothing: one that consists of sleeping a lot, spending much time in coffeeshops, working on the feeble second draft of the novel I wrote in November, applying for fun and rewarding-sounding jobs that pay next to nothing, and both dreading and anticipating my return to Hotel Californiasoft two months hence.

When, just over a year ago, I returned to the place from which you can never leave, I meant to have an alternative plan in place by now: one in which I had my ideal combination of jobs and was supporting myself with them but alas, I'm still figuring out what that combination looks like, and failing to make money at any of them.

Though I must send a shout-out to the store "Yeah Baby" in Fairfax, California, which sold 16 copies of my book (on consignment) in under a month! So it's not fair to myself to say I'm not making "any" money doing things I love. I earned enough from those sales to pay for two tanks of gas! Yaay me! And yaay Yeah Baby!

It feels great to know my book can fly off the shelves in the right circumstances. On that positive, caffeine-fueled note, I bid you adieu. Until next time, enjoy this wacky ski video starring yours truly!

Me. Back. Vacation. Ugh.

Hola! I returned from my Mexican vacation in body if not spirit and promptly became a hibernating creature: eating too much, sleeping too much, and covering my beautiful tan in layers of wool clothing.

Whine. Whine. Yes, you know me, I always fall into a funk after vacation when I must deal with the mundane details of life after losing myself in adventure, or, in this case, sitting on a beach, snorkeling, sleeping, drinking margaritas, and eating deliciously spicy moles and salsas that makes our food here seem so blah and band and pale (which is why in my post-vacation-face-stuffing-phase, I am eating the spiciest foods I can get my hands on: Indian, Thai, and of course, more Mexican).

I am also about to enter what is certain to be a most busy and creative and financially remunerative time: unemployment. Oh yes, I have many projects in mind, such as getting two-pack abs, creating a filing system for my home (ha ha), cleaning out my storage locker (ha ha ha), and revising the 50,000-word federal disaster zone that is my is my Nanowrimo novel.

Meanwhile, as my current tenure at Geeksoft comes to an end, I look around its sterile hallways and long - slightly - for the security I once had there. The money that flowed in, the ESPP plan, the health benefits handed down directly from God.

I look at the Geeksoft job listings and think: Maybe. Maybe I could do it again. But it is like a port in a storm that I must pass by as I complete my lonely voyage to God-knows-where.

Alas. That is the idealistic view. I'll probably be back. If not as a full-time-employee with the handcuffs of gold then as a contractor with manacles of silver. 'Cause that place is like the Hotel F*cking California. Let's sing it all together now: You can check out any time you like but...

I Heart Vacation

Why can't all of life be like vacation? Sleeping 11 hours a night, waking up to freshly-brewed coffee, sightseeing all day, ignoring all mundane wordly cares such as bills, where-in-hell-is-your-career-going, that article that's due why you seem to be incapable of love, etc etc.



But, on the positive side of things, all my limbs are intact, bodily organs are functioning, Seattle is awash in fall colors, and they had a copy of my book in the Williamsburg Virginia Barnes and Noble!

Most of the time I don't even LOOK for BreakupBabe anymore because more of than not, she's not there. The thought hadn't even entered my head when I walked into this B&N but then GalPal #2, sneaky little devil that she is, went and looked for it - and found it! So of course I signed it with great ceremony as all her family gathered around and they put the little silver sticker on it that says "Autographed by author."

Thus did I feel the glow of stardom once again, if ever so briefly.

The other highlight of my vacation was spending a day at the Washington DC museums by myself - romping through the National Gallery - so airy and full of bright colors, touching the moon in the Air and Space Museum, stopping for delicious fry bread in the Museum of the American Indian...

There is something very special about going to museums by yourself. All that art for you to take in at your own pace, no one to tug or bug you or tell you they want to leave. The book Artist's Way recommends that aspiring artists go on weekly "artist's dates," where they do creatively stimulating outings by themselves. I love this idea and have always aspired to do the weekly artist's date but have managed maybe twice in the 10 years since I read that book.

That day in DC made up for a lot of lost artist's dates. More sobering was my trip to the Holocaust Museum, and then, following that, dragging myself to see all the memorials in the unseasonably high heat and humidity, practically keeling over as I dutifully joined the crowds at the Lincoln Memorial and the Vietnam War Memorial.

Then there was the trip to the Shenandoah Valley. Once the camping portion of the trip began, of course, is when it became freezing cold (AND WHEN WE REALIZED THE FALL COLORS WERE NOT GOOD THIS YEAR. I SAID I WAS GOING TO KICK SOME ASS IF THEY WEREN'T. DIDN'T I? DIDN'T I?) But nonetheless, Dave and I managed to have fun, getting in only one jet-lag induced fight, exploring the Appalachian Trail, freezing our asses off, marveling at the Deliverance-style accents we heard, etc etc.

That's me above, looking oh-so-pensively out at the nearly nonexistent fall foliage from Hawksbill Mountain and deciding whose ass to kick. This is the HIGHEST mountain in Shenandoah National Park at 4,000-something feet, these mountains being all ground-down and rounded by age unlike our youthful and still erect Cascades.

Rebecca

O, When Will My Bed be Clean?

Ah yes, pardonnez moi for being so long absent. I have been busy doing Lord knows what. Learning how to dump over in a kayak and not drown. Visiting family in the Bay Area. Working hard for one insane week at Geeksoft headquarters only return to my sun-dappled life of leisure this week. Rewriting yet again that article about backcountry skiing that I struggled with so hard the first time only to have it come back and BITE ME IN THE ASS.

As I've said I-don't-know-how-many-times before, DON'T BECOME A WRITER. Unless, that is, you want to suffer constant rejection from snooty editors who don't even bother to reply to your query letters (never mind that you are a published NOVELIST, ahem!); constant self-doubt and guilt; and the fear that you will never ever make a living doing what you love because most likely you WON'T.

I should have listened to my father when he told me to become a computer programmer. But if he wanted me to be a computer programmer why did he feed me the Great Novels from an early age instead of, say, programming manuals? Why did he tell me that I could be ANYTHING I WANTED TO BE, pay for my college tuition, and not make me do any chores, therefore ensuring that I would grow up impractical, lazy, and unfit for anything except daydreaming?

Hmmph.

Methinks perhaps I have been travelling a bit too much. You can always tell how recently I've been on a trip by how much crap is piled on my bed. When in a state of post-travel disarray, I keep the rest of my condo relatively neat and dump everything on my bed. Sometimes I can hardly sleep for the piles of luggage, shoes, books, magazines, toiletries, that threaten to push me off the side.

Right now the pile is medium high due to last weekend's whirwind trip to the Bay Area. As soon as I get it cleared off it will be time to embark on my next trip - nine whole days in Washington DC and Virginia - a part of this lovely country to which I've never been! I'll be visiting Galpal #2 in DC and then hiking around in the Shenandoah Valley hopefully where I better see some great fall colors or I'm gonna kick some serious ass. Got that Mother Nature?

Meanwhile, tentative work on the new potential-possible-novel-in-progress continues. Coming to a bookstore near you in 10 years!

xo
R

Post Labor Day Blues

I returned from the long weekend on Monday and still have barely regained consciousness. Yesterday was a Lost Day. I went to the office but my soul was somewhere else, hiding. I was catatonic, unproductive, grumpy. Everything reminded me of my own creeping decreptitude and eventual doom.

All except the fact that I did write 1,000 words in what is my next-sure-to-be-discarded manuscript! During that hour-and-a-half period of the day, I escaped to a parallel world where I was Lord God Creator of the Universe and only my characters suffered and decayed and had stupid dreams and I floated above it all in my latte-induced omiscience.

The weekend was spent recreating in that giant playground that is my backyard. Paddling glacial blue-green lakes and hiking along trails populated with bears and eye-popping views.


(The bear, who we dubbed Carl, is not visible in this photo -- of Lake Ann taken from Maple Pass in North Cascades National Park-- but that's because, unbeknownst to us, he was right behind us on the trail).

There was a wee bit of tension in our REI tent since co-captain Dave apparently, envisioned having time to "relax" on his vacation while I pictured it as a nonstop three day marathon of strenuous mountain-related activity ending at midnight on Monday as we collapsed exhausted into our beds.

We worked this situation out by - how do you say -- "compromising." I am not very good at this "compromising" though I tried to do it with a modicum of grace. I therefore only complained quietly three or four times - instead of the usual 25 -- when we came home early on Monday for "relaxation" purposes rather than squeezing every last drop out of the weekend.

Next on the docket comes a kayaking class so Dave and I can learn to rescue ourselves should our sturdy kayak (pictured above on Diablo Lake) capsize and so we can learn about tides and currents and such so as not to get swept under bridges like those kayakers in Boston! And so I can continue my quest to become jock of all adventure sports, master of none!

Summer Reading in Sun-Deprived Seattle

I am really ready to start writing another novel. I mean REALLY.


(Photo of edited draft of BreakupBabe by Leslie Duss).

The thing is, since our whale-tastic vacation, I've been dreaming about whales again. Almost nonstop. Big, barnacle-covered, bad boys.

They're both awesome and frightening in my dreams, so close that I'm afraid of falling in the water and getting eaten by one. You know what THIS means. It means there is an idea under there, bubbling around in my self-conscious, that is about to erupt and take over my life.

I have been reading some of our more bestselling authors lately. Jodi Picoult for one, Nicholas Sparks for another. Yes, Nicholas Sparks, OK! Just get over it! Someone gave me The Guardian and though I put it off I ran out of novels and started reading it and now I can't stop!

Though I find myself struggling, at times, with the ludicrousness of the plots (Picoult), the crudity of the writing (Sparks), these are books I'm dying to get back to at night. These writers are skilled storytellers. Sparks, in particular, proves you don't need a fancy plot to make a gripping story.

His writing appears so simple that he makes it seem EASY and you know when something seems easy it's not. Which reminds me of one of my all-time favorite writers, Alexander McCall Smith. Now here is a true master. With his No. #1 Ladies' Detective Agency series, he writes stories that are funny, sad, and uplifting with a structure and voice so seemingly simple you think "I CAN WRITE LIKE THIS!"

And of course you can't. So at first these stories are inspiring and then they are truly depressing - when you sit down to write your own simple, beautiful masterpiece only to produce garbled nothingness, but I digress.

In other news, I have too many effing blogs. I need to rein in my sprawling Web presence.

In other, other news, while we were on our whaletastic whale-watching trip, co-captain Dave channeled Jacques Cousteau to narrate this Academy-Award winning video "The Sea is a Lonely Place." The narration is hard to hear and gets drowned out (no pun intended, ha ha) completely after the first half but you can still see some whalies swimming around.