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August 11, 2013


Oh tiny little group of readers, I am wrestling with the nomadic nesting syndrome again.

Sometimes I just want to scream about the RUT I'm in.

A part of me deep down is adventurous, spontaneous, brave, and bold - the beserker, the warriorpoet.

There used to be more of that when I was younger. The person who climbed up the face of this mountain (Old Woman) one fine summer day by herself, just because:

See the line of trees above the yellow building? That was my route.

This site says it's 2,563 ft to the top; 3-8 miles. But that's referring to the trail on the back side of the mountain. The trail-less face may be more or less than that.

No water bottle, no food, no bear spray; I didn't even tell anyone I was going. Just did it.

The person who lived in a tent in Alaska; washed her hair in a steam, in the coldest water you ever felt. Who clambered over rocks and climbed up cliffs to get to the perfect ocean vista, praying I would see an orca pod. (Never did.)

What happened to her?!

On the other stupid damn hand, I love routine. I love my creatures and my creature comforts. I love my own bed, my jalapeno jelly green wall, my wood floors, my art, my friends.

I had a light bulb moment late last year when The Boy was talking about buying a dog boarding business.
He was always jumping from restaurant to restaurant when he was a chef. It made my stomach hurt. I've worked for the same company since 1999 (minus the "sabbatical" year of 2010-2011).

Then it dawned on me - he is a risk taker. And I am not in this stage of my life.

What's brought all this on (again)?
A friend from the past contacted me on Facebook last week. He's in SE Alaska salmon fishing. He sends me these fantastic pictures of the water and the mountains and I can smell the brine and the fireweed and the alders and the spruce.

Photos - JP

I MISS it. I miss the magnificent breathtaking adventure of the place.

Somewhere near Sitka, AK. Photo - JP

Once again my nomadic Viking blood is stirred up. Hell, those Spanish, Portuguese, and Italians got around as well. 98% of my blessed DNA is composed of sailors, explorers, risk takers.

So what the bloody hell is the matter with me?!

I want to have my cake and eat it too.

More to come...


  1. Cake is good!

    - Anon CP

  2. Thanks, Kim. Congratulations on scrambling up and down that mountain. I can relate easily to this conundrum. I haven't been to Alaska, but ran off to the Middle East when in my 20s. Oh, and much more. But the same feeling...who was that girl and where is she now?

  3. So, first, I love how under Labels it reads "DNA, grumpy rant, random". Did you do that? Responsibility seems to take hold of that free, anything-can-happen spirit and pretty much squash it. If you can't take on the big risks, try on a few small ones for size!

    1. Yes; they're called Labels. And how fun you noticed. :)

    2. Yeah, have had similar thoughts - not to hitch hike to FL but have adventures.