I'm exhausted. I wonder why. Let's recap the last three weeks.
7/8 - 7/10: Worked 9-hour shifts
7/11 - 7/14: Traveled the Tri-Cities and back
7/15 - 7/17: Worked 9-hour shifts
7/18: Wrote 1,500-word Tri-Cities story
7/19 - 7/20: Traveled Whidbey Island (photo alert!) and back
7/21: Worked 9-hour shift
7/22: Day at the races and night at Burlesque (see previous entry)
7/23 - 7/24: Traveled Victoria, B.C. (photo alert!) and back
7/25: Wrote 1,500-word Whidbey story
7/26: Wrote 500-word Victoria story and major edits to Tri-Cities story
7/27: Worked 9-hour shift
Today, tomorrow, and Sunday I work full food co-op shifts. Monday I write one more 500-word story that is due. Tuesday I begin a 10-month intensive course called "Writing the Moon Guidebook I've Been Putting Off Since May."

My Big Fat Adventurous Life

One of the really cool things about my life, especially lately, is that I'm embarking on a new adventure weekly, sometimes daily. I'm experiencing many firsts, and my days are anything but boring. If you look back through my journals, kept regularly since I was 10 years old, a burning desire for adventure is a regular theme. In a very real sense, I'm living my dreams. I'm also continuing to experience strange dichotomies. Take last Saturday, for example. We began the Day At the Races. One of my husby's company shipping vendors sponsors a top fuel drag car, so they treated us to a day at the National Hot Rod Association (NHRA) Championship Races. Later that evening, our super-hip friends Brian and Sara took us on a suprise evening outing to the Triple Door to see The Atomic Bombshells and Dita Von Teese. From hot rodding to burlesque, all in one day!

DRINKAMUGAMILKAMEAL

So it says on the back of the shiny silver milk hauler I pass in Sunnyside. I've got growing pains. My skin is raw. My heart aches. I don't know if I can endure 10 more months of this kind of personal growth, this stretching, before I can take a year off to recuperate.

91°

Well the air conditioning in the car has died, about 20 miles east of Yakima, and it's 91 degrees outside. Aaaaarrrgggghhh! The guy at the Shucks auto parts store in Naches sticks his hand under my hood (oh, that sounds naughty) and says it's probably not a quick fix to get it running again. So, I decide to go over Chinook Pass, S.R. 410, because it might be cooler, and because it is a staggeringly beautiful day with bright blue skies and friendly fluffy clouds. The views of the tips of Mount St. Helens and Mount Rainier that I can see from the Yakima Valley are amazing. I figure they'll be even more beautiful up close.

90°

Time to cool off. I see a Historical Marker sign that turns out to be a traditional Native American crossroads, now a public fishing spot on the Naches River, hidden over an embankment. I take off my clothes, think about skinning dipping, chicken out, put on my bathing suit and a tank top, and dip my entire body in the blissfully cool river. I stop into the Naches Ranger Station to make sure the pass is open. Good to go. An adventure on my way home today. Ten miles out. It's already dropped a degree.

88°

This is one of those hidden blessings. If my A/C hadn't croaked, I probably wouldn't have tried the detour. Soul restoring. Recharging my batteries.

82°

I pass Whistling Jack Lodge. Next Services, 52 miles. The song on the radio is "Figaro!" from Barber of Seville. My windows are already rolled down, because I'm trying to get air, I’m blaring this opera, and people are staring. I laugh out loud. The river runs beside me. This is stolen time. I'll be exhausted working the next three days and writing the article. I'm thankful for this moment of grace.

66°

At the top of Chinook Pass. As achingly beautiful as I had hoped. Beyond real. Part of the mountain is behind clouds, part is shining in the sun, part is in the shade. My camera can only capture a fraction of it's impressiveness.

More Pics in the Tri-Cities Photo Album

Neon and Reflection in the Water

I'm getting such joy out of my camera as a creative outlet, perhaps at some point as a source of limited income. AAA's magazine for Idaho and Oregon, Via, is going to use a photo of mine in their next issue! I've asked only for photo credit, but once I've got a couple of reputable published credits, people actually might start paying me. Although, it's only slightly more difficult to get paid these days as a photographer than it is, say, as a writer or an actor. Just as I won't write for free (this blog being my personal outlet, and therefore an exception to said rule), I won't do photography for free for long either. I will fight all my life in my own little way to see that any creative being can earn a legitimate living doing what gives her joy. So there.

Moonstruck

Full moons fuck with my head, man. Usually I get lost following routes I've traveled hundreds of times before. My internal compass spins wildly and I cannot get my bearings no matter how hard I try. Later, when asked, I cannot explain how I got into the mess nor how I got out. Yesterday, instead, I was emotionally lost, and more significantly, I lost my pen. Now, I don't know if every writer does this, but I can only write longhand using a very specific kind of pen. A $40 Cross Century, with a clip, no less. My first was given to me by my Uncle when I graduated from high school. I still have it, but it doesn't have a clip, so it's not practical for everyday use. The second was given to me in honor of my 1-year anniversary at BBFM. I lost that one doing the CityDog wine story when I left it on the back of the car and drove away. I bought one to replace it. I lost that one at Diane Mapes' book signing party. I bought one in Spokane, while on my press junket there, to replace that one. That's the one that I now can't find. My husband had a hard time understanding why I was so freaked out today that I couldn't find the pen. It's superstition. A bad omen. I haven't been writing well lately. In fact, I haven't been able to write much at all. In my mind, the losing of the pens is directly related. It is symbolic of my struggle. Sailors understand superstition. Warriors, too. Is there a superstition that you fall prey to emotionally, even though your intellect rejects it?

I'm leaving tomorrow for a big trip to do a Seattle Metropolitan story. I can't go without my pen. Seeing my distress, my husby took me to Staples to buy a new 10 karat gold plated Cross Century pen. Please, universe, help me to hang on to this pen.

Damn, We're Talented

You see my pics here and on my smugmug site all the time. Now, check out some of my brother's black and white photography. Makes a sis proud.

Say hi to the Blue Dog of Happiness, given to me by my husby, who knows me so well. The tiny sheet of paper that came with him reads: This faithful friend brings the gifts of pure joy and security to its new owner. He will assist in the dogged pursuit of dreams, and help you over life's ruff spots. Together, there's no problem you can't lick. He's given with lots of wags and kisses and will be a friend furever. Find a special place for him in your home or office and he will bring you many days of happiness.

Everyone should have their own equivalent of the Blue Dog. Despite laughing a lot and having a great life by nearly any standard, I often lack inner happiness. It's a struggle for me to be happy and content with my lot. I wish I knew why. More importantly, I wish I knew how to become a person who is basically happy the majority of the time.

At the moment, I'm fairly convinced that this is what will finally make me happy. In the meantime, happy Friday.

Searching

I've been thinking much lately about life and how tenuous it is, and therefore, how valuable. Perhaps this is because my uncle had prostate cancer surgery last week and today, my grandfather had pacemaker replacement surgery. Please add your thoughts and prayers to mine for them. My most recent mini-revelation is that I want to consciously focus my life to live it to the fullest, and I've come up with five pillars, if you will, of a balanced and contented life; five things to guide my priorities and choices.
One: Body, optimum physical health and well-being
Two: Mind, continuous challenge and expansion of understanding
Three: Soul, make time for spirituality for mental health
Four: Connection, to all beings and to the earth, family and friends
Five: Contribution, striving to add positive energy to the universe

I made a little alter in my office, where each morning I can spend some time to align my day to these priorities. That's my message to the world today.