i could so live there

It’s going to be a strained week for blogging. I already missed yesterday, but not to fear, it was a planned non-writing day. Friday’s entry may or may not materialize, as I’m leaving early for the nightmarish 24hrs of travel that is the flight to Taipei. Between then, I’ve got only three days of my normal five-day workweek to get a normal five-day workload done. Then, next week’s entries will cease to follow any schedule, being posted when I can, and on Taiwan time to boot. So look for ’em any time. I’m hoping I can keep up the writing, I’ve done it on past trips. And with that, we’re off.

What an awesome extended weekend. Three days in Big Sur, neither of us had ever been. Nevermind that I spent ~30min on the phone Sunday, just down from a short hike to a waterfall, talking to a customer in Texas with an urgent issue… luckily though, Sharaun was understanding and it all played to make the weekend unique. The northern California coast is a real meeting of worlds; salty waves crashing right up against rugged mountains. Kelp washed up into freshwater streams emptying themselves into the sea. We walked barefoot on beaches, trudged up streams, ate too-expensive food and slept in too-expensive rooms. And, since the only bad part about getting away from it all is having to come back to it all – I’m gonna sit here with this laptop on my knees and flex my fingers through another entry.

One of my travel-habits is to constantly scan my surroundings for “places I would live” should I become a bum or fugitive from the law. Ben has oft made fun of me for this habit, sometimes calling out “Hey Dave, you could totally live there,” in regards to some ramshackle shelter passed along the way. I don’t know what it is, but I’m always seeing places in terms of their inhabitability. I swear, ever since seeing My Side of the Mountain in 5th grade, I’ve imagined running away from the world and living in a tree. Foraging for my own food, building my own fireplace, perhaps even befriending the local librarian, taking up falconing, having a pet raccoon, and falling in with a bearded minstrel named “Bando.”

Back to what I was talking about, I’m always pointing out prospective hovels: broken-down utility shacks along the river, weathered metal switching stations along the rail lines, hollow spots on mountain ledges, if you can give me a semi-enclosed spot I can dream up a shelter that I’d transform into a comfy living space. This vacation to the coast was no different, I saw “places I would live” all over the place. Only this time, I decided to snap some pictures of my imagined digs. Check it:

The first of many hollow-tree houses, kinda cramped.

Tall but roomy, and had another opening for fireplace exhaust.

How freakin’ perfect is this? Secluded, even looks like a door.

This tree was begging me: “Live in me, live in me!”

The most perfect hollow-tree house, I almost ditched Sharaun and started nesting.

A big one, possibly a good upgrade if I decide to start a hollow-tree family.

Breaking the tree pattern, a seaside cave… I can’t even begin to describe the attraction.

Aside from spotting potential hideouts, we had a lot of time to relax. Sit on the sand, read books in bed, talk over coffee, and sing along to songs in the car. Unfortunately, I did succumb to my one free-time hangup. That for-no-reason sensation of being unnecessarily harried, frustrated; wanting to “get somewhere” when I have nowhere to be, wanting to “finish” something when I never started anything. I think I inherit this from my dad, who, when we’re out and about, always seems to get a random itch to leave for no reason. It’s a terrible thing, really… all of the sudden I’ll feel like we have to leave and “get back.” Since I’m pretty anal to begin with, the feeling pokes at the back of my brain like the pea in the princess’ bed – making me feel “uncomfortable” until we’ve got to wherever I’ve imagined as the “finish line.” I admit, it’s an odd thing – but thankfully Sharaun has learned to recognize it, and can say to me, “There’s no hurry, let’s just take it easy and relax.” It’s a good thing I have her to counteract my faulty genetics. Thanks dad.

Speaking of my dad, his dad is currently my only living grandparent. I don’t know what about this weekend got me thinking about my grandfather, but something did. I had the thought that I just don’t talk to him much, and don’t even really know him that well. The sad part is, the only time I really ever think about my grandfather is to wonder how he’s doing… and how long he’ll be around. It just struck me that the majority of my thoughts about my grandfather revolve around whether or not he’s going to be alive next week. I talked to Sharaun about it over pancakes, and we both agreed to try and renew regular communications with our only surviving grandparents. It’s just too easy to take for granted the further-removed generations of your lineage… when in reality they are some of the utmost crucial links to your past and discovering why you are who you are.

And, as midnight draws close… I’ll end this entry. But before that, we weren’t the only ones to have a busy weekend. Congrats to Ben and Suze on the house. Congrats to Kristi and Erik on the engagement. Congrats to Anthony on the ink. Goodnight.

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2 Replies to “i could so live there”

  1. I read My Side of the Mountain like a billion times, I still have my copy from school! We should run away together to our dugout tree and feast on rabbit liver and forage for nuts & berries!

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