As you read this, Len and I are on a little road trip—we don’t know where we’re heading.
We were supposed to be enjoying the Pacific Ocean from the Oregon coastline. But with over 500,000 people having fled because of statewide fires, we opted to head east instead.
The one thing I do know is that Indelible: A Sean McPherson Novel, Book One, hits the shelves on April 6th. Here’s an excerpt. Enjoy:
“Much like a brilliant, multi-faceted gem nestled on the ragged hemline of the northern Pacific coastline, Pines & Quill, a wooded retreat for writers, sits Zen-like overlooking Bellingham Bay in Fairhaven, Washington, holding space to unleash possibility. The mango-colored sunrises and blood-orange sunsets compete in their breathtaking showiness, each vying for the rapt attention of would-be onlookers. One heralding the beginning of day, the other bids adieu, sending it off into the ink-black night sky.”
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I’ve turned comments off for this post, but I wanted to share a glimpse of this beautiful location with you. Enjoy!
Last year, on a road trip through Oregon, we saw endless miles of wire fencing stabilized every hundred feet or so by wire-wrapped “pillars” of smooth fieldstones.
The labor involved in that task—harvesting millions of fieldstones and placing them in the wire enclosures—was massive, but serves a practical purpose. The “pillars” provide stability to the fence, keeping it upright.
The shortest distance between two points is a straight line. At least that’s what I was taught in school. I didn’t know about the exception:
“A straight line isn’t always the shortest distance between two points. The shortest distance between two points depends on the geometry of the object/surface in question. For flat surfaces, a line is indeed the shortest distance, but for spherical surfaces, like Earth, great-circle distances actually represent the true shortest distance.”
Perhaps it’s not about the two points, but HOW we move between them.
Depending on the distance, walking is my favorite mode of transportation, (no less than six miles per day).
If we take the truck, it means we’re on a road trip, and you have to love that!
In the Fiat? I’m running errands in town.
On our bikes, or in the plane? We’re enjoying a goof-off day.
What about you? What’s your favorite way to get between Point A and Point B?
Today is the 5th of May—Cinco de Mayo. It brings to mind our favorite Mexican restaurant—Old Town Mexican Cafe and Cantina—in the Old Town section of San Diego. It’s the “Home of the original Handmade Tortilla Makers.” Authentic and delicious!
While waiting for your meal you can watch tortillas being made—by hand. You can also admire the festive, colorful bar stools.
“Belly up to the bar” means to move near something. However, when looking up the etymology, I found all sorts of interesting information. I especially enjoyed this improbable meaning that was said to be given by a tour guide at an old Lexington tavern:
“The origin of ‘belly up to the bar’ goes back to Colonial times. If your belly could reach the bar, you were old enough to drink.”
When I mind-map each year, the four categories that I break down into small attainable steps are health, family/friends, travel, and writing/speaking. Stateside or international—planes, trains, or automobiles—for me, travel is a cornerstone.
Whether I go by myself, with Len, or with my sister, I enjoy the sense of adventure. I make a practice of packing light. Really light. I never check my baggage: just two pieces, a wheeled carry-on, and a laptop tote. And I enjoy arriving at the airport early so that I can people-watch.
The moment I buckle into my seat, I pop my earbuds in (the international signal for “please do not disturb”), pull out my Kindle, and read until the plane lands.
I currently have four sets of round-trip airline tickets waiting for use in my travel folder. My first adventure of the year is coming up soon. I’ll share more about that in next week’s post.
I love to travel, and when I do, I enjoy photographing the variety of doors I happen upon. A door is like a book—you don’t know what lies within until you open it. Something pleasant? Something scary? An adventure? Something that lulls you to sleep?
Remember the story of Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves? All Baba used the magical phrase — Open Sesame — to open the mouth of a cave in which forty thieves had hidden a treasure.
And while there have been times I’ve not felt welcome, I’ve never had a door not open to me—regardless of my age, gender, skin color, politics, or spiritual tradition. I’m aware that’s sadly not the case for everyone.
[bctt tweet=”Have you ever had a door not open to you, or shut in your face?” username=”@TuesWithLaurie”]
Have you ever had a door not open to you, or shut in your face?
Last year I hosted a writing retreat on Eleuthera Island in the Bahamas. It was my second time there, and I loved it! One of the interesting things about this exotic location is the potcake dogs.
According to Wikipedia, “a potcake dog is a mixed-breed dog type found on several Caribbean islands. Its name comes from the congealed peas and rice mixture that local residents traditionally eat, as the rice that cakes to the bottom of the pot would go to the dogs. Although appearance varies, potcakes generally have smooth coats, cocked ears, and long faces. A group of potcakes is known as a parliament.”
In my experience, the dogs—who generally travel in small groups—are friendly. They’re usually looking for a food handout. If you accommodate them (which I don’t think you’re supposed to, but I did), then you have friends for life!
The same thing happened when I was in San Miguel de Allende, Mexico.
And the same thing happened when I was on a writing sabbatical in Darby, Montana—only this time, it was with a small herd of deer!
Would you feed a stray animal—even if you’re not supposed to?