rolling rolling rolling

My fantasy of deep sleep was replaced with big, slow-moving, raging thunderstorms that kept me up, and kept Vesta quaking, well into the wee hours. I'm not complaining, though... I love a good thunderstorm, and haven't seen one since Sturgis!

Woke up early today, walked V. around in the motel grass for her morning self-care rituals, and returned to the room with more chigger bites than you could shake a stick at. Aargh!

Drove on through Kansas with Boulder in my heart, and though I was tempted to stop at Prairie Dog Village, tempted to drive the extra hours to the worlds second largest ball of twine, tempted to stop at the Custer cavalry museum, or at various other highwayside attractions, I decided instead to take a side trip along secondary roads to seek out local life in the flatlands.

In a tiny town that isn't even named on the map, whose name I wrote down and promptly lost again, I stopped to walk around and take some pictures. Soon I was approached by a local character with wild hair and a face whose skin resembled polished, knotty wood. "Did you just take a picture of that house?" he asked me. I was a little scared, afraid he might tell me to get the hell out of there or smash my camera or something. I told him that I had, and the guy smiled as though this were the most thrilling thing to happen in a long time. I got the complete history of the place (it was once the home of the local newspaper), and some nice morningtime chit chat with this kindly gentleman. He was pleased at my off-the-70 approach to Kansas explorations, and I was pleased that he was pleased. Thank you, sweet sir, for making my day.

Kept on keeping on across lovely Kansas-- Kansas, I adore you!-- and into Colorado where I felt, at a rest stop, dry air once again. So good to breathe and walk outdoors without fear that I will swoon. (Swoon is such a buttoned-up, old-fashioned, romantic word. Don't you just love it?)

The front range appeared before me , and soon I found myself in Denver, checking in with Rina at the Children's Hospital and making plans for the evening. I had some hours to kill, so made my way to a dog park in Boulder, returned some calls, found a wireless hookup and then headed to Rina and Todd's place, in the shadow of the Flatiron Mountains. We walked dogs, got dinner, and now here I am, real sleepy, in a comfortable bed in their comfortable house, my old friends sleeping in the next room, my dog beside me, and my eyelids heavy heavy heavy. Must sleep.

The Kansas of Your Sweet Little Myth

In Topeka, prostrated in a well-air-conditioned cheap motel along I-70. Damn hot, following the theme of the last several days. 108. The Element is doing okay, but the A/C isn’t running real cool, so Vesta and I were glad to get here after a long, sweaty day on the road.

Rolling out of Kentucky and across Indiana, nothing much happened. I pondered important life details such as, "gee, the skin on my neck is getting a little wrinkly," while passing small towns named Santa Claus and Poseyville. Crossing Illinois, as the heat index and my caffeine level rose, my thoughts began to run further amok. I watched them and let them go alright. Return to Portland, to work, to eking out a living, is on my mind, and though I still have some fun destinations ahead of me, I’m well on my westward way. The month that once seemed it would stretch on utopian-forever, is nearing a close. It’s been fantastic, truly luxurious, to have this time to recalibrate my center. Amorphous ideas and musings I have pondered along the way have begun to come into clearer form and focus, and for me, that’s the most precious gift that travel can bring.

At this point, perhaps fueled by time on the east coast, I feel myself a bit more sharply. It’s as though this time away from the soft west coast has sharpened the blade that is me. And let’s see how I feel once things have settled back in at home, Portland home, but right now what I feel is this: I seek more challenge in my life. New learning. Maybe a graduate degree (gasp! Don’t hold me to this one, folks), maybe taking the reins of fiscal responsibility a bit more wisely (serious thoughts on retirement plans and health plans), and smaller changes, too.

Crossed that big Mississippi again with a view of the St. Louis Arch. In Missouri I passed a van filled with rosy-cheeked boys in baseball caps, strapping midwestern kids, and worried for them when I read the side of the vehicle: "Transporting the future of America’s Armed Forces." Tuned into a country music station for a spell, and sat back with it like a local in a pickup truck. Though those songs leave little room for imagination, their lack of obliquity or agenda matched the plodding, flat landscape, and brought me some refreshing reassurance as I drove through Kansas City and into Topeka.

Thanks for your many calls, dear ones. They’re coming at just the right time. It feels good to know you miss me, and are thinking of me, since today was a bit lonely. I love love love you.

Time now for some dinner. There’s a Steak n’Shake across the street, a greasy midwestern delight waiting to be had. And a cool bedroom, and deep sleep I hope, and an early start for my long drive to the Rocky Mountains, where friends are waiting, and cooler, drier air, and some new lightness once again.