Oregon: the final frontier

I've made it to the last state of my trip! Woo Hoo! 15 states and 22 days, and it's not quite done, but I'm on the last leg. I'm hanging out in Portland with my cousins, Herman and Ruth (they are once removed I think - they're old enough that their children are married). I've been welcomed into their beautiful house, from which I will soon head out to explore the town, but I wanted to put down a few thoughts first.

I dropped off Jake last night. We became much closer over the course of the trip, and it didn't really seem like a goodbye, since I couldn't imagine that I won't see him again. Don't know what else to say about him right now, other than that he was an excellent companion and I couldn't have made the trip without him. Thanks, Jake.

In some ways, this does seem like the final destination of the trip: tomorrow, when I get to Eugene, I'll no longer be on the trip, I'll be starting the new life. Tomorrow is not a destination, it's a beginning. Boy, does that sound sappy.

Since I'm feeling super distracted, I'll keep this one short, although I'd like to take a minute to go through the trip, or at least the last few days, and pick out some highlights. It seems likely to me that I won't do it when I get to Eugene, either, which is too bad. But, get ready for lots of new and exciting news about house and job hunting, dealing with university bureaucracy, and setting up new bank accounts! It's bound to be loads of fun!

Change of plans

We got rained out from Glacier, so we came to Seattle instead. Last time I posted, I wrote about shower day in Yellowstone - little did I know of the downpour we were headed into. At that point I was sitting in an internet cafe in Butte, MT, on the way up to Glacier, and I probably should have written a little post then so that this one wouldn't be quite so long, but alas, I did not. Butte really appealed to me as a town. In fact, as much as I liked Wyoming, I think I liked Montana even more. Butte is full of great brick Victorian buildings and we thoroughly enjoyed seeing the mansions and the bordellos and eating our fried pork sandwiches.

From Butte we headed up 89 through some 7 or 8 wilderness areas in the space of two hours, which made for a very scenic drive. We stayed at a campground called Lake Alva, which we practically had to ourselves, and I finished my book down at the lakeside. It looked just like some of the most lovely lakes in Maine, and that familiarity made me feel very much at home despite the fact that I was nowhere near home. The next morning we were again on our way, through Kalispell, where we got the biggest ever cinnamon roll and I got fancy new sunglasses with exchangeable lenses, and into Glacier itself, the supposed pinnacle of the trip.

Right outside the park we stopped to get some Bison jerky from this roadside huckster with a handlebar mustache. He was also selling nudie pinup girl lighters, rattlesnake eggs, and hand-rolled cigars, but we stuck to the jerky, which is amazingly tasty and filling.

Once we made it to the park, we registered for an overnight back-country hike up to Cracker Lake. The woman told us that very close to the lake, at the end of the hike, there were a few snowfields to cross, but they shouldn't be too bad. She said if we lodgepoled, it was only one to three feet of snow to climb out of. She also told us that there were reports of salt-craving marmots at the camp, marmots that had eaten the armpits out of shirts that were left to dry outside of camper's tents. Sounded like fun!

Up the Going to the Sun Road, I walked along the Trail of the Cedars, which is a small patch of old growth cedars, bisected by a roaring little river. Jake and I agreed partway into the mile-long trail that it could be alone time. So I walked by myself amongst the huge old trees, which was important, since I couldn't imagine saying anything in their presence. I thought of Stephan and wished that he could see the trees, some of which had huge dbh's (I think one of the signs said 4-7 ft, which is really impressive for a softwood, although nothing close to a redwood from what I understand). I loved the cottonwood trees, too, which had bark the size of my forearm, a comparison the implications of which I couldn't really comprehend.

Back we went along the lake, all the while oohing and ahhing at the scenic peaks, and we drove around to the east side of the park to the Cut Bank primitive camping site. We made dinner early, and then got in our tents early as it started to rain.

It rained all night long, and in the morning, it was clear that raining was the single-minded persuit of the weather. The ranger came by our tent, told us that the local radio station was out, that the creek was the highest he'd ever seen, and that there was snow in the forcast for Cracker lake. Jake and I looked at each other, and at the soggy tent, which was starting to leak a bit, and at the mountains, which we couldn't actually see for all the clouds, and we got out the atlas. It was a tough decision, since we'd been looking forward to being at Glacier since before we got on the road, and since we'd modified some of our plans in order to spend more time there, but we both agreed it would be better to come back at some point when we could fully appreciate the place and to head somewhere that we wouldn't have to stay in a waterlogged tent overnight.

So we came to Seattle instead, shooting across the remaining milage until we were in view of the coast. Arriving, it felt like we had come to the future. This place has trees on the highway overpasses; the lights in the tunnel zoomed past; we relized that there were more people in the buildings that we could see than we had seen in the last couple of thousands of miles.

Since we've been here, we've seen four of the world cup games, which is an unforseen benefit of missing out on the whole wildlife/mountain scene. Seattle is surrounded by mountains, though, and last night we went out for an evening walk that was about four miles and had pretty decent elevation change. We went to the REI store yesterday and didn't even make it all the way through the first floor because we were poking around at all the exciting things to see. I'll definately have to come up and visit here. There seem to be more small, independent businesses in this town than in any other town I've ever been in. It makes me excited to be living in the Pacific Northwest.

So, now that I've yammered on for a good long time, I'll try to bring this post to a close. We're heading to Portland tomorrow, where I'll stay with my cousins and say goodbye to Jake. He's going on to San Fran, and he's worked out his ride, a housesitting gig, and some sort of work to be doing for a while. From there, I'll go down to Eugene, and the trip will officially be finished. It seems a little unreal to be heading back into a "stable" lifestyle, one where we don't have to get up and drive seven hundred miles every other day.

I have a hopeful lead on a house in Eugene, a team to play with for the tournament this weekend, and a lot of plans on where to look for a job. It'll be good to settle down, but I'll miss the road.

Shower the people you love

Today’s theme: Shower Day. For two reasons – the first being that I hadn’t showered since Friday, before Frisbee on Saturday and adventuring since Sunday, and the second being because we’re now experiencing showers. When we returned to camp today, the rain gave way to ice and then marble-sized hail, which was quite unexpected. As I write, it seems to be raining again, and thundering and lighting, but at least it’s all liquid. Before these storms rolled in, it was a beautiful day, though, and we spent 6 hours of it driving to and from Teton, and about 4 hours of it hiking around in Teton, which was very pleasurable. We saw a lot of Marmots there, and on the drive back, we say a coyote trotting down the road. What can I say about the Tetons, other than that they are magnificent from afar, dauntingly steep from close in, and covered in snow?

To go back a few days, we left the Badlands Monday morning. So far, the Badlands are still my favorite place we have seen, because the biodiversity there is astounding, the subtle oranges, reds, and yellows of the sand enchant you with their shifting tones, and the place just seems impossible. We took a short morning hike, came across birds in little mud houses that they built under cliff ledges, saw more grasses than I think I have seen heretofore in my life, and got a view over the lower plains. Afterward, we drove through the park to Wall.

Wall was the beginning of the downward slope of the hill for me. I walked around, but knew in short order that I really had no use for the place. I picked up overpriced bug spray and a camera, and went outside to write postcards. No luck finding the brown leather cowgirl had of my dreams, the one to match my boots, and I wasn’t going to settle for anything less.

On from Wall, we went to the Black Hills, which I really did not enjoy. It felt cramped, we missed going to Rushmore and everything cost lots of money and was far away by winding roads. South Dakota suffers from a glut of billboards, obstructing the views to what might otherwise be a savagely beautiful landscape (see Wyoming). Wall Drug and the Black Hills are pretty much the cause of all the fuss, so I blame them in part for making South Dakota really unlikable. I ended up just sleeping through a significant portion of the Hills and perking up once we got to Wyoming.

Wyoming is savagely beautiful. As soon as we got into the state, we saw a sign for the Vore Buffalo jump, and turned off the highway to find out what it could be. Evidently, according to the rancher whose family had owned the land since about 1880 and who had deeded the land to a land trust to make it a national historic place after trying to deed it to the University and having them use it and abuse it for their own purposes, the Vore Buffalo jump was a natural sinkhole that several Indian tribes used to lure herds of bison into in order to then kill them for their meat and hides. Unfortunately, it was closed for winter, opening about a week from when we showed up. Nonetheless, it seemed pretty cool, although as we kept driving, I wondered why they would use that particular spot instead of any one of the other canyons and crevices that dotted the landscape. Perhaps it was because that one was round, and therefore had wall on all sides, whereas the other canyons and crevices around were not totally enclosed.

From the Buffalo jump we headed north to Devil’s Tower, which was well worth the drive. While there, I felt like I had a magnet attached to my forehead that was being pulled very strongly to the top of the tower. We bought postcards with the Works Progress Administration drawing, and hopped back to the car to try to get to the Bighorns before nightfall. We succeeded, just barely, and set up our first backcountry camp. By dinner’s end, we were bathed in moonlight, and there really were moonshadows everywhere.

We were out early the next morning, and rode through the rest of the Big Horn forest, and across the Wyoming plains. By the time we hit Cody, where we stopped for an oil change at the Wal-Mart, I was in a pretty rotten mood. My camera would cost about $170 to repair, so I don’t think it’s worth it, plus we were in a Wal-Mart, which is never very pleasant. But we made it out and up to Yellowstone, where we were delayed for half an hour for road construction, but eventually got up to a campsite and set up camp and finally had lunch, at maybe 3:45. I felt a lot better after that!

We went back out and explored Yellowstone, stopping at paint pots, fumeroles, geysers, and hot springs, driving through river canyons and across plains dotted with Buffalo, and of course, making the final stop at Old Faithful. Which we just missed by moments at about 7:30. So we stayed, listened to a Ranger give a talk, bought some potable water (another cause of my horrible mood was dehydration, since the water we had picked up in South Dakota tasted absolutely horrendous), and waited for the 9:00 showing. We were not disappointed as we got to see the geyser erupt against the setting sun, which was picturesque in a way that hopefully will come through on my flashless disposable camera.

So, theme of Monday and Tuesday was seeing things from a distance, what with looking at things across the plains, spotting Devil’s tower from afar, missing Mount Rushmore and only seeing it from the road, not paying the $25 to see Crazy Horse from up close, and staying at a safe distance from all of the thermal activity and wildlife of Yellowstone. Except, as we drove back from Old Faithful, late at night, we turned a corner and there were two Buffalo crossing the road, one right in front of our car, and one directly (like 5 feet) to the right. We slipped right between them, and as we did I said to Jake “go fast” because the first one started galloping next to us, and it turns out that Bison weigh 2000 pounds, can charge at 30 mph, and can jump about 6 feet high.

Anyway, we’re safe and sound, uneaten by bears, unmauled by buffalo, and ready for bed, then Montana in the morning.

It's been a long day

We live in a huge fucking country. Today, Jake and I woke up at five, and stole out of the Chicago apartment that has treated us so well. We realized as soon as we woke up that in our hurry to buy groceries before the store closed last night we forgot to pick up a gift for our generous hosts. Hopefully they’ll come and visit us and we can return their generosity at some point. On the road by 5:40 and into Wisconsin just past seven, the early start was the right choice. We flew through Chicago, and in the early morning sunlight it truly looked like a dream city.

Starting in Wisconsin we played My Cow for quite a while, until I got up to about 1045 cows, and Jake was trailing at about 594 cows. Neither of us could quite fathom the idea of our cow armies actually killing each other, and in Wisconsin there isn’t a lot of ammo to pick up anyway, so I took a nap, which essentially brought the game to a close.

Basically, the theme today was just straight up driving. On the way from Great Barrington to Oberlin the theme was school busses – we inexplicably saw about 15 school busses on the highway that day. From Oberlin to Chicago the theme was that all of the towns in Ohio have the same name as other places, such as Milan, Russia, and Peru to name a few. But today, it was just driving through the fairly flat lands of Wisconsin (which has mounds and is actually quite beautiful), Minnesota (most of which I slept through), and South Dakota (which is overwhelmingly long). We did have a few high points. We crossed the Mississippi, the Missouri, and into the Mountain time zone. Also, we stopped at the inevitable Corn Palace, which was less exciting than I had hoped it would be. Nonetheless, the pictures of the old corn palaces, from when the buildings were made mostly of corn are really neat. Plus we picked up postcards and I can now say I’ve been there.

And then, the Badlands. I’m writing in my tent in the Badlands state park. It turns out the Badlands are so called because the French settlers thought they were la terre mauvais traville, aka lands that were hard to travel through. I bet they were right – we’ll find out tomorrow, since we’re going to do a short hike in the morning. It’s comforting to know that nobody actually thought these were an evil place, just hard to get your horse to clomp through. I think this place is beautiful, and it’s such a welcome sight after miles of billboards for Wall drug and 1880 Town and the Mount Rushmore movie and Pro Life/Anti Choice propaganda. I’m looking forward to exploring more tomorrow morning, although I’m sad not to have a camera yet.

A few last Chicago bits before I forget. We did a drive by look at the Robie House, which looked way too clean to me, on our way up to visit with Melissa again. When we got to Mel’s house, she said she had a surprise and walked us to this place called Lula’s Café. There, we had fantastic food and drinks, and I copped the most expensive blueberry lemonade I think I’ll ever have. They gave us a shot of chilled spring garlic and herbed new potato soup, which was super tasty, and I had some sort of pasta dish with fresh homemade ricotta, oyster mushrooms, and olives that I polished off. All around the outdoor sitting area were fans of this death metal band that were waiting for the show next door to start and providing constant amusement for us onlookers. When we mentioned Lula’s to Colin, Jason, and Lyrica, they all knew it and how tasty it was, so I felt like we found a true Chicago treat.

Oh, there’s always more to report than I can possibly put down. It’s great to be writing (almost) every day, it’s very meditative and reflective. But now I want to get to sleep to be ready for tomorrow’s exploration of the Badlands and Black Hills.

Bam Bam Bam Chicago!....

I've got a lot of thoughts floating around like the ubiquitous dandelion fluff that's all over this town, and I'm hoping that they'll coalesce a bit as I write. We're coming to the end of our Chicago visit, I think (although it's tempting to stay here), and I would like to see everyone in one room again. It's been great - we went to quarter beers at a bar with Joe, Claire, Lyrica, and Tiger on Tuesday night, after an hour and a half trek on the public transportation. The night ended with homemade brownies and vanilla ice cream at Joe's house. We went to Melissa's house for dinner Wednesday night, and invited Joe, and ended up staying over after a tasty lentil salad/green salad/nachos meal. Last night I went to a frisbee cookout for the current U of Chicago team, then we went to an MFA student's final art show, on the way back from which we caught a few minutes of the Rocky Horror Picture show, and after which Lyrica and I went back out and did a late night workout. Days were full of poking around the city, mostly Millennium Park and eventually the Art Institute, which is where we should have gone first and probably could have stayed the whole time. But a moment to pause and ponder the art show. The girl, Sara Black, had two(ish) pieces. The central piece was a platform upon which she walked, bent at the waist, pushing a long pole attached to a reciprocating pair of keystone shaped blocks set into a square holder. The motion was transferred somehow, although we couldn't figure out how even crouched on the ground looking at the inner workings under the platform, into energy, enough to light a single incandescent bulb in the next partitioned space over.

The second piece was a small portable hut that turned out to be something like a sauna, with a hotbox, a swinging bench, cedar walls, and a copper floor. At the bottom of the funnel-like copper floor there was a hole, and through that hole Sara inserted copper wire wicks, which gathered her sweat as she sat in the hut. The companion piece to the hut itself was an array of the sweat wicks, which were bluish crystal formations of salt.

Both pieces had a beautiful simplicity to them, and a nice consistency of aesthetic. They also spoke to a deep thought process, not only of how to create the physical objects, which clearly took a lot of planning and hard work, but also of what the objects meant and why those two objects were appropriate to create. I thought they were great reminders of the vast amount of energy that goes into the simplest things we take for granted, and intended to make one reconsider the necessity of artificial light and added salt. There's more, but I'm not done thinking about this show - I just wanted to capture it and hold it here for a moment, so that it can gather a few more thoughts.

BTW, it's dangerous to buy cookie dough. Since grabbing some Tuesday night when we came into town late and needed something to be dinner, I've been having constant cravings. Yesterday when we returned to the apartment, the package was missing, and though I had intended to share it, I had been looking forward to my next fix since lunchtime on Wednesday. It was rough not to find it waiting for me.

Anywhoo, Chicago has been lovely, a very slow blur. It's been hard to motivate in the morning, nicer instead just to sleep in, read my novel, wonder why I haven't been reading novels, and then poke around other folks apartments. Public transportation here could be significantly better, but other than that, the city gets my approval for its very concerted, well advertised efforts to become the greenest city around, and plus for its general niceness.

A few more thoughts: my novel is A Million Pieces, which I think I mentioned, and it's great. I know why I wasn't reading novels, it was all that freakin non-fiction for Sunday nights, both assigned and in hopes of creating a presentation, plus being fairly well occupied with the rest of life. But I think I'm remembering now how much better I feel when I've got a story in my life.

And, Irony. I haven't been a coke drinker since maybe ninth or tenth grade, when I quit because I realized that I was addicted, that it wasn't good for me as an athlete, and that the whole thing was a giant sugar scam that represented a lot of evil that I could easily excise from my life. So Wednesday as we're wondering around in the Loop, the Dr. Pepper folks are handing out this new berries and cream flavor, and Jake takes one, and one for me even though I say I won't drink it. We keep exploring, and at lunch he cracks his open and has it, which kind of saves our bitter veggie juices that were part of the lunch deal we found at this wacky downtown health food store cafe. I insist that he put the other in my bag, rather than carrying it around in the pocket of his coat that he's got tied around his waist.

Thursday morning, when we finally get out of the house around noon, I put on my bag and think there's something wrong. Down to the car we go, when we notice that I'm dripping. So it wasn't just the voices in my head telling me that my butt was getting wet. Open the bag and all seems fine, except that at the bottom of the bag is a punctured can of Dr. Pepper Berries and Cream and my Cannon Rebel G camera. Making love. Their sweet juices mingling. Or rather, the Dr. Pepper has assaulted my Cannon Rebel G, because there's no way that under normal circumstances my camera would have anything to do with the Dr.

So, bottom line, after much wiping, we've deposited the camera at Chicago's Central Camera, and will get an estimate, for which I paid $15, on Tuesday. That's what I get for not drinking coke, for offering to be kind and carry someone else's drink, and in the end, probably for being clumsy/careless enough to let a can of coke puncture in the bag where I was carting around my camera. Low point.

Now I'll leave you on that low point. Coming up, the great-unplanned adventure continues without reservations for campgrounds in the coming week! Oh, and I've added the second day of travels to my map. I will soon find a way to make said map more interesting, although I guess it won't be with all the fantastic pictures I'm taking.

Breaking News - First Map!

Oh, oh! Guess what? I made my first map, instead of doing the things we actually planned to do today. I took a nap, which turned out to be a three hour nap, and then we spent a long time figuring out how to get to Millenium Park on public transit, then I decided that I'd rather go ahead and make the first map, rather than heading to Millenium Park for a few moments. So here's the map: http://www.wayfaring.com/maps/show/17377

It's our first day's drive, and it'll keep getting bigger and better as I follow the route.

Ok, now we really should go out for our quarter beers!

And Away We Go

Tuesday morning, the big morning, was full of last minute packing, and – big sigh of relief – everything fits in the car! In fact it fits really well, and I probably could have brought a few things I left behind, but they are behind now. I had to run to the Co-op for a scone because I couldn’t think straight and had no breakfast food in the house. But, all of my stuff went in, then I picked up Jake, whose is really traveling lightly, and we ran a few errands and were off! Thank goodness I have a traveling companion – I started heading down Rt. 30, when in fact I needed to go down Rt. 9, and Jake gently reminded me than we couldn’t get where we were going if we continued the way I was pointed. Crisis averted!

We had a good first leg – over on Rt. 9, down on Rt. 7, all through beautiful New England countryside and picturesque towns. The purple mountains provided a lovely backdrop, and I got the feeling that we are going to have a great trip. We arrived at the Grandparents’ house at about 1:45 and took a turn around the grounds. It’s idyllic here, with the gardens and songbirds and this comfortable old house.

Seeing Grandpa and Grandma is such a treat, and it’s reassuring to know how well they are doing. Grandpa kept saying how discouraged he has been by his hearing loss and memory loss, and I hope that it doesn’t turn into depression. In fact, having not seen them since Thanksgiving, I expected much worse, but I think they are doing very well. Grandpa is again leading a discussion group, this summer on Shakespeare. Grandma was out at a Garden Club luncheon when we arrived, but came in with all sorts of news. They are ushering for Shakespeare and Company this summer, and it sounds like their schedule is no less busy than ever before. Now I know where I get the ambition to fill up my life with worthy and exciting things.

At dinner, conversation turned to the political, and comparatively, the things I fill my life up with don’t seem quite as worthy. We talked about the 1963 March on Washington where Grandpa and my dad saw Dr. King, and also about some of the other actions that both Grandma and Grandpa took during that time to encourage civil rights. I believe my causes just as worthy, but I just got the distinct awareness of the apathy of the current populace. I do think that solutions must be local, but that might mean that we never do something as meaningful and effective as that March, and I think that would be a tragedy. That March changed things, albeit with a lot of local action to back it up, but without that March and that speech we would not be where we are today. So, charged again for action, we’ll see what develops once I arrive on the left coast.

I’m sitting here Thursday morning typing this at the kitchen table in Alford. Grandpa and Jake have gone into town for bagels and Grandma is sleeping in. We’re planning to head out at about 11:00 today, all the way to Oberlin to arrive there this evening. It will be our first big chunk, but for now I’m just going to enjoy this calm and sunny morning. I’ll take the book I picked up here out into the back garden until the guys reappear, and then we’ll see where things go from there.

Monday, it's my fun day

My last day of work at BuildingGreen arrived, and with it, a real understanding of this upcoming trip. It was a full day of work, so much so that at 4:30, when we were supposed to head up the hill to Nadav’s house for my send-off party, Ethan and I were still working frantically to create a CD copy of all of my files. I didn’t finish my timesheet or my list of accomplishments, and I had yet to apprise Jess of all of the loose ends that I was leaving behind in the High Performance Buildings database. Anyway, up the hill we went, and the party was lovely. A little wine, a little cheese, and Jerelyn’s homemade sushi made tasty snacks. Most of the staff of BuildingGreen was able to make it. The terrific news of the party is that they gave me (drum roll please) five years of the BuildingGreen Suite, which will carry me back out of grad school! They also presented me with a copy of Greenspec, and a lovely soft organic cotton shirt with the New Orleans Principles from the U.S. Green Building Council. Jim gave me a black shirt for grad school, so that I wouldn’t look so out of place in all of my pastels. We generally had a lovely time talking, and I stayed up there until about seven – it was hard to tear away from those people who have become friends as well as workmates.

At seven, though, I went back down the hill and into town, where I met with Jacob (my traveling companion) and Mark N. We completed the game of Cranium Mark and his friends were playing, then headed up to Mark’s cabin in Marlboro. Unfortunately, by the time we got there, it was dark (and really quite cold), but even in the dark we could tell how amazing the place is. Mark’s sleeping cabin is on the side of a hill, and a little way down from his cabin are the main cabin, with the kitchen, and his “roommate’s” cabin. Just below those, there’s a canoe and a little dock on South Pond. After we ate dinner by kerosene lamp and talked until about midnight, all three of us went down to the pond and shoved off into the still water. We floated for a while, then paddled about under the stars. Mark was right about the place – I suggested that the proper word for the experience was spiritual.

I was dead tired by the end of the canoe ride, and just couldn’t imagine hiking back to the car, riding down the treacherous mountain road, and making the trip back to my own bed. Jake could, so he took the car in, leaving Mark and I to snuggle up for warmth in his brass bed. Snuggling was just what I needed; it got me properly warm, and put me at peace. Although I never sleep that well when I’m cuddling, I think I crave that body-to-body contact. It must release all kinds of endorphins.

The other benefit of staying out there was waking up in the morning to really be able to see the majestic pines, the slope of the hill, the silver water on the pond, and the rustic cabins. We ate a quick breakfast, then pushed off again, this time exploring a little marsh area at the edge of the pond. As we swung out canoe into the reeds, a huge great blue heron took off about 40 feet in front of us, flying straight across our line of sight. We both gasped.

We wrapped up our visit to the cabin, and I felt like I had gained something tangible. Down the bumpy road and back to town we went, and I set about packing up all of my stuff. It was truly a transition from the inspiring to the prosaic, but I carried some of that feeling about with me all day.

Packing was packing, by which I mean that I need not describe it, suffice it to say, I didn’t finish on Tuesday because it was slow going. But, I did quickly check in at work, so I got to finish my timesheet (very important!) and pass on my projects to Jess. By 5:45 when it was time to leave the house for Frisbee, I felt ready despite not being totally packed. Frisbee was mediocre, unfortunately, and I think it was mostly because I was so tired. At the end, everyone wanted to play more, which we did, but finally I demanded that if we were going to dinner we better go. Colin and I had planned to go to Top of the Hill Grill, which was closed at that point, so we ended up at the Marina. Becca, Seth, Stephan, Colin, and I went, and it was a good time, but I was mostly focused on eating, so I felt a bit like I was missing out on the goings on about the table. Once fed, though, I was much happier, and the rest of the evening was better by a considerable margin.

Seth, Stephan and I made a cameo appearance at bowling (where I couldn’t hit the spares to save my life) and then we all headed into town to Flat Street, where the whole gang was assembled. It felt like a private party, since we were pretty much the only crowd in there, and it was a great setting to say goodbye to everyone. People trickled out, we kept drinking, and at the end of the evening we were down to a band of five, goofing around with my camera phone and playing dirty games outside the bar. Stephan and Colin dropped me off at home. The goodbye wasn’t tearful, but when I got upstairs, my housemate had left a note on my computer to say goodbye that instantly had me sobbing. All of the avoided tears came out at once. I dragged myself to bed on my stripped down futon with one wool blanket and shivered through the night.