miller's crossing

It's been a year since I hit the reset button, moving 2000 miles away from my old home to the Pacific Northwest. I'm finding it's a process with lots of starts and stops, plateaus and backwards steps, and vortex-like forward motion punctuated by periods of evaluation and re-evaluation of perceived progress.

October 11 came and went. I couldn't shake the feeling that there was something significant about that date. A birth date of an old friend? No, something else. ... I generally remember dates. If I know you, I probably know your birthday. I remember anniversaries. I remember the year albums were released. I didn't have much time to wonder why 10/11 stuck in my brain, so I let it go. Then today, I remembered.

Move 'em on, head 'em up


Head 'em up, move 'em on


Move 'em on, head 'em up Rawhide.


Count 'em out, ride 'em in


Ride 'em in, count 'em out


Count 'em out, ride 'em in Rawhide!

The full moon was lovely over Jenifer Street last night. I enjoyed the view from my little balcony. The cats enjoyed it, too. I've only got two more weeks at the Jenny St. sublet. There are so many things that I'll miss when I move. ... Sigh.

I've gotten so used to the comfort and familiarity of Madison and to having my dear friends so close by. It's difficult for me to understand why I would intentionally choose to leave this beautiful midwestern home of mine. But I am. I am leaving. I've told my friends, my family and the cats. Now, I've got to do it. Hard work. But I believe it will be worth it.

For the next full moon, I plan to be about 2000 miles west of here. That's hard to believe. But then for the last full moon, I was in San Francisco. That's hard to believe, too. ... Seems like a long time ago.

I drove another 530 miles over the weekend. Saw my sister in the Twin Cities. That makes at least 5500 miles I've put on my car since May 16. I never thought I'd enjoy so many road miles. The thing is, through this "practice" of long highway driving, I'm discovering a sense of freedom and self-determination that I don't think I've ever known. My worry is that as soon as I put down roots again (which I know will feel good), I'll loose that feeling. I guess I'll just have to see how I can keep it alive in me.

Note to self: Remember it's fun.

Eric and Diane

According to industry publications, July 7 is the biggest wedding day of the year for 2007. Across the country, brides- and grooms-to-be have stood in line hours to book venues, often planning months in advance to get their perfect spot. Sasha and Natalia Olsen camped out at 3 a.m. on February 2 to score their dream wedding site: the Pavilion at Olin Park.

 

How quaint ... ducks and Monona Terrace. I'll be there bright and early tomorrow morning to staff a table at a job fair. I'd rather be outside, of course, marvelling at the duck, geese and swans. "It's like Club Med for ducks," my friend Liz says about this spot.

I moved here nearly 12 years ago. The lakes were frozen. And there was a lot of snow. After living 6 years in the drizzly Pacific Northwest, I was happy to be in weather that produced such clear, bright days. Walking on the lakes was a mind expanding experience. How often do you get to have a completely different perspective on where you live? Maybe taking off from Dane County Regional. Or if you have a boat. Or Google Maps....

 

Did I promise a photo of the fisherman on Monona Bay? I meant to. I saw them on Thursday. This picture was taken Friday. Due to a technical glitch at the radio station, I was a little late for the sunset. Still, half light seems appropriate for ice fishing....

I've got a few more photos here.

 

With the warmest year on record behind us, we can now comfortably relax into winter. No worries. It snowed. It's cold. We're fine, right?

I just heard the rumble of a passing snow plow. For my romantic mind, nothing says "stay inside and snuggle" more convincingly. So tonight, I blah-blah-blog with my warm laptop.

photo by jp vidas

I think of you in the cold, dark northern morning and wish I could be still asleep in your bed. And I envy you the solitary quiet that blankets the plains. Burning the lights at 5 a.m. Then going outside and breathing cold air.

 

Wet. Wet. Wet.

Bam! ... If it isn't the end of summer....

Cold rain.

Blah....