Reblog. Though I prefer to call it “recycling.”
Here’s the kicker: I actually feel the complete opposite now than when I wrote this piece. I awake energized and I am thrilled to develop my creative projects every day. Finally! Yes.
However, I don’t always feel the desire to create and I assume many other people don’t as well. Perhaps some of the suggestions in the comments will spark a fire.
I’ve been out of commission for a while. Not as in a my-organs-were-removed/repaired-and-I’m-recuperating sort of way, but in an I’ve-lost-all-drive-to-write sort of way. Personally, the former would be easier for me to deal with. I have a pretty high pain tolerance and not all organs are necessary for survival. Just ask Slim Goodbody.
I attempted to pinpoint when the creative breakdown was conceived, but I failed to locate that nefarious moment. I’ve no recent traumatizing situations to speak of, save for my friend’s Christmas party where she kept dumping out my drink in order to wash my glass. I would set down my glass to talk to someone and then turn back around to take a sip of wine only to discover it sprouted legs and trotted away. (I must warn you that one has to watch their plate around her, too. It’s a compulsion she’s…
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What a whirlwind of a month this has been so far! As I was typing my last post on a rare rainy day in Portland (“rare” being completely true- not kidding), I received a phone call for a job interview, which they scheduled for the following day. An hour or so after I interviewed with them, I received a call offering me the position to begin in two weeks. YES! It’s for a wonderful GI clinic not but two and a half miles from my home. Another wish list item: check! Ideal hours at a nearby location so that I can spend my spare time doing things I enjoy instead of commuting. So, I decided I had before me the perfect opportunity to visit family and friends before the madness of a regular work/exercise/writing schedule began. That meant one thing: ROAD TRIP!
Off we went, Maya Papaya and I, down through the forests of Oregon
where we took a spur-of-the-moment long cut around Crater Lake. Because ADVENTURE! I’m all about the wild. She was delighted that there was snow everywhere, though not so happy when the trail we wanted to venture on was closed due to snow and ice. Of course, she wanted to challenge it and I had to become a mean mommy and tell her no. High winds + steep drop-offs + ice/snow + no suitable hiking gear + inexperienced miniature five year-old wannabe hiker = certain death. I excel at math and common sense. Denied. I will definitely encourage her to brave the elements and explore as I’ve done… just not yet.
I digress: Crater Lake. Pictures fail to do justice for this beautiful national park, but I will post some anyway. Now that I have my camping gear once again, we’ll likely return sometime in the near future to explore the area more. Hiking, camping, traveling, venturing out into the world- I want to share with her all I did with Josh, and then some.
On down through Nevada we drove, hoping to make contact with aliens along the Extraterrestrial Highway, but no such luck. It was a long, blessedly uneventful drive through the desert. No flat tires. No overheated engines. No gang members to kidnap us and drive us off to a bar in the middle of nowhere so we might become a midnight snack for an extended family of vampires. (Yes, I’m a Tarantino fan.)
Mesquite hasn’t changed. At all. Head’s up: the buffet at the Casablanca is horrible. Go to the Eureka should you decide to visit. I haven’t been to the Casa to eat in a decade and I haven’t missed anything at all. Gah. I did bring back an assortment of local brews for the family to try after we all went swimming. HUB brews are so dang tasty. Highly recommend. And Maya and her best human friend were reunited and it felt so good.
However, the visit came to an end and we headed back on the road, our car packed full of more of our belongings that we left behind the first time around. First stop: Salt Lake City. We stayed at a high-class Super 8. Check out the 1980s phone in the bathroom:
Fancy, eh? I didn’t dare touch it because Lord knows what assortment of septic microorganisms were lurking in and around that sucker. However, if I couldn’t escape the toilet for a while and wanted to order a pizza with extra cheese or have a friendly conversation on a chat line (do chat lines still exist?), I would probably use a hand towel and suck it up. (Note to self: do not stay here again.)
Onto Boise, Idaho. First stop: Crash the workplace of Maya’s dad. Done. Second: Crash the home of Maya’s dad for a night. Done. Chat about his upcoming film release: Ghostumentary. Third: Take off Saturday morning for a day/night in downtown Boise without a child in tow.
Boise, you surprised me. You’re like that nerdy chick who’s secretly got it going on. Like me. What to do first? Why, trail running. What else? A great spot: Camel’s Back Park. I ran my butt off on the trails, logged about six miles, and then hit the outdoor workout center for a full-body workout. Love, love, LOVE.
Of course, after I’ve worked up a sweat it’s time to hit my hotel room, shower and wander to the downtown area for scrumptious food and a cold IPA. Or two. Or, ahem, more… (NO JUDGING. It was a rare night out for this single mom.) But first, another stroll down Freak Alley to check out new graffiti.
Now let’s get down to the juicy portion of this adventure I was on…
After snapping pictures of graffiti, I decide to try out the Slapshot IPA, which was mighty fine, and some belly-filling salad and pizza at 10 Barrel Brewery. I sat myself down at the bar next to a nice young man, R, and proceeded to do what I do best: act like a nerd. Apparently that’s not such a bad thing. Maybe it’s endearing in its own special nerdy way, I’m not sure. Anywho, I took a few pictures because I am geeky
I started chatting with the ridiculously fit R who kicked butt in the Spartan Race and discovered that he has sponsors for his runs, which I thought was impressive. He was truly sweet and his enthusiasm was so contagious. Ever since completing Tough Mudder, I’ve thought about trying the Spartan Race. Haven’t done it yet, but he made me want to jump right back in. As I mused over a future Spartan Race event, I happened to glance over to my left and I see him sitting at the end of the bar.
Him = C. Slightly older than myself. Mega-watt smile. Intelligent eyes. Biceps you want to run your fingers along. He gave the impression of having his shit together. He was magnetic.
R and I asked C if he had completed the Ironman earlier in the day, which he had. Le sigh. It took all of my willpower to take my eyes off of him. We congratulated him, I snapped a photo (yes, I actually did), and I’m pretty sure I plainly stated to R that I wanted that man, which I figured was not going to happen since a) he appeared to be with another woman, b) he was smoking hot, and c) he was truly smoking hot. R and I chatted for a few more minutes and he then paid me a lovely compliment and went on his merry way. I stared at my phone for a few minutes and then decided it was time to mosey on to another place. Excellent beer, great food, wonderful conversation.
Except I didn’t go anywhere because C showed up by my side and he was even more impressive close-up. He had been waiting for the girl who was not his girlfriend/wife/nada to leave so that he could come down and talk to me. Glory be. Introductions were made and we made some chit-chat before I managed to act like a complete moron.
Backstory: I wanted to carry my camera with me for the evening but I didn’t want to carry my camera bag, so I switched to a slightly larger purse that would hold my camera along with nearly everything else. However, I didn’t have room for my wallet so I took my ID, credit card, and some cash and stuffed them into a random side pocket, which I promptly forgot about.
We decided to leave the brewery and go listen to some live music, only I couldn’t find my wallet. I’m such a person of routine that I had basically blocked out of my memory the inside pocket with my valuables. I nearly had a freak out and he calmly whipped out his creditcard and paid for my dinner. He knew me for probably fifteen minutes or less at that point, but that’s the sort of man he is. I was embarrassed beyond belief. I explained that I had to walk back to my hotel to get my wallet but would meet up with him, to which he responded that he understood if I didn’t.
I took off and got about three blocks down the road when I stopped dead in my tracks with the realization that I had what I needed the entire time. I might have skipped like a giddy schoolgirl all the way back to our meeting spot. Maybe. When I arrived, he seemed pleasantly surprised, I forced him to take my money for dinner, and we decided to leave the bar due to the unpleasant melodic attempts by the band and seek out something better.
Onward to the BrickYard and an evening of dueling pianos. It was fantastic. I haven’t had that much fun during an evening out since…probably since I went to Austin. C is as much of a music fan as I and the sound was top-notch. Our conversation flowed naturally, without awkward silences. Granted, we were drinking (I more than usual) so that can assist the flow of chatter, but we simply had a good deal in common and some similar, significant life experiences. He was intelligent, witty, genuinely nice, and his smile lit up the room. We had strangers buy us drinks just because and we sat in a booth all night, soaking each other up. I didn’t want to leave him and he plainly stated that didn’t want to leave me, despite his exhaustion from the race.
However, good evenings sometimes do need to come to an end as much rest was needed. I eventually did leave his side and I forgot to get his phone number. &#*$%! Why? To be honest, it didn’t feel like we had just met, so I wasn’t thinking that I needed to get digits. It was as if I kissed him good-bye thinking I would see him the following evening and the evening after that. Would anything have come of us anyway? He lives in the LA area and I live in the Portland area, so…/shrug. We had an excellent connection and stranger things have happened to me, thus it’s possible.
Regardless, this experience in Boise with C coupled with my last relationship made me realize that I want someone close to my own age. He was, which I believe is one of the reasons we had excellent conversational flow. I’ve been chatting with a couple of male friends who are also close to my age (both who unfortunately live far, far away) and our chats are typically fun and easy. I don’t have to explain certain things; they just get it. Older men also tend to be solid. Stable. They’ve already been around the block a few times and they’ve seen it all. They’re looking for a true partner at this point; someone to be their cheerleader. I’m aware that not all men are like that, but the ones I’ve known tend to be.
I already know my wish for my birthday candle tonight.
C: should you stumble across this blog, send an email to me. Here’s a song they didn’t play for us, the one I request every chance I get: