2017: Following Up

2017: The year that saw a new pup, a hundred road trips, a thousand trails—long, winding and otherwise. It was the year Mark gave me sparkly ring, and took all these lovely pictures of me wandering around. Proof! I embrace the wisdom of walking. It was the year I got a new job at Nemo. Procured a parcel of land in the woods near Bend. Built a fence. Cried over my old dog Lefty. Spent the night on a mountain in a blizzard and didn't die.

Photographs aren't real life, but they're a slice of it. I'm glad my better half is always snapping away pics when I'm not looking, because then on dreary January 2nds, I can look back and know that I really did it. I went outside and followed the path, contemplating all the craggy views and forest sprites. I left behind the computer and the television in favor of simple happinesses with man and dog, blank-brained meditations on the trail and other moonshine of the mind.

If my year were only these images, I would be happy. Luckily, it was even more.

Wintering

I'm averse to the word "busy." I also hate the concept. It would be cool if every time I was inclined to say I've been busy, I just said that life was "full." I'll have to remember that. Anyway, abundance has been on my side. Lots of work. Lots of friends. Lots of dog chaos and yardwork and social functions and exercise and driving. As mentioned elsewhere, I have a new full-time job that takes up a fullness of time. And yet I'm light of step. Despite new responsibilities, I can't remember a time when I felt freer. It's good to be moving and feeling right and in an atmosphere of growth.

Aaaaaanyhow, this is all just a longwinded way of saying that I'm a weekend warrior now, and I'm good at it. For instance I catalyzed this Sunday by going up to Mt. Hood and white-walking through the new fallen snow. There was powder dolloped on all the trees and a cold freshness to the world that I almost never encounter anymore. The smell. The smell! It was pure Colorado childhood. My childhood exactly. Walking down the driveway past the frozen pond to the bus stop in the early morning dark as the snow plow did slow circuits up and down the hill, its headlights transformed into strange glowing orbs in the clouding powdersmoke. The smell and the cold and the snow took me straight back there for a moment. And it was nice.

Also: Despite all of the bad things in the news, everyday, relentlessly—there's a lot of good stuff in the ether, too. Have you watched Godless yet? Have you gone soaking in the Kennedy School pool in the rain? Have you read the book Bluets? Have you eaten the chocolate caramel cream cupcake from Back To Eden?

New Job, New Life

I got a new job. I get to work with my heroes. I get to drop f bombs in the office space and listen to banjo music or speed metal as my mood dictates. I get to bring my puppy to work. I get to make cool stuff and learn to be smart and follow my coworkers' footsteps into the magical place where good ideas come from.

This week, I started full time as senior copywriter at Nemo Design. I've worked from Nemo for like 12 years. Trevor and Jeff were nice to me. Like a little lost orphan, I put my desk in a corner here and fed off their fun and creativity to do my own work for other companies in other places. Now I'm here, and I'm working here. It's exciting.

I remember reading a passage in Patti Smith's memoir Just Kids—it was about how at some point in her life, she just gave up the idea of working for someone else and entered the artist's life, where she'd always make her own way and be her own boss. As a perma-freelancer, I related. I thought that would be me, a lone-wolf mercenary riding a MacBook Pro off into the sunset. That was me—but now it isn't. I'm on a team, and it feels totally right.

9.30.1977

It's been 40 years since I was born—a little blonde pine cone plopping to earth in Denver, Colorado. Let the record show. It's been 40 years of fighting and working and feeling.

People have been saying to me kindly, you don't look 40! Thank you? But, like: What's wrong with looking 40? I don't buy into the culture of youth worship. I was an idiot when I was 25. And generally speaking, I do believe people become better with age. In my pursuit of being the realest, most emphatic form of me, I can only feel, look and act exactly my age. I'm me! I go to work. I go to the skatepark. I clean my own house and pay my own mortgage. I run the stairs at Mt. Tabor. I text my mom almost everyday. I drink beer and eat pizza whenever possible. And no matter what's happened, at a certain hour every night—I migrate toward the couch and watch TV. I used to be energetic and single and very eager to see rock shows. Now I have a house with a mini ramp in the garage and a hubs-to-be. There's what and who have happened to me in the past life. And there's me now. Get this—they're the same thing. Somewhere inside, I'm still 10 freaking years old crouching behind the chokecherry bush about to shoot out the greenhouse window with a bb gun. Accidentally.

Anyway, Saturday—my birthday—was a big day. A cinnamon roll for breakfast. A driveby on a friend's yardsale. A hike through the spooky Northwest fog. A dog with a squirrel addiction. A few beers with a few friends and a metric ton of laughs. We're alive, guys! What a thing.

Happy Anniversary

Happy anniversary Lefty—it's been one year since you died. It's been a year since we buried you under the new maple tree, and then the winter came and buried you again in all that snow. Dang, though, how the flowers bloomed there in the spring. This summer was hot—you would've hated it. I would've had to finally get you that haircut everyone was always asking about. I never did touch your hair, though. It was too perfect the way it was. Au naturale was how you rolled.

Your brother Duke moved in 4 blocks away. You could've partied together daily! But your buddy Riley, he died in the spring. Both of you gone too soon.

I miss going skating with you. I miss using you as a footrest. I miss catching all the love beams you were always sending my way—always watching me, constantly keeping your eye on things, forever making sure I was safe and more importantly that I wasn't gonna leave you behind. I'm not going anywhere, boy, I'm right here.

Lefty at the river. 

Lefty at the fire lookout. 

Lefty at the skatepark. 

Lefty at the desert lake.

 Lefty and me forever.