25th
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Maybe because the weather was unseasonably sunny (with intermittent rain, natch), but I had the BEST time exploring Seattle on foot.





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This image above exemplifies how I’m NOT feeling right now.
For the first day in twenty-six, I had absolutely no plans. It was mentally challenging, for me, to wake up and start the day without an itinerary in place, but things worked out better than I could have expected. I ended up at a free outdoor yoga class on the front lawn of the Paine Arts Center and Gardens in Oshkosh and befriending a group of vibrant women. We hung out and took photos in our sweaty yoga gear. They invited me to hear a band perform on the waterfront, but by that point I did have dinner plans. The irony!
Before all that, this afternoon, I climbed to the top of the 1932 Cape Cod-style lighthouse at the very tip of Fond du Lac, on the southern shore of Lake Winnebago. (As a devoted Francophile, I was drawn to the name, which means “foot of the lake.”)
It’s been refreshingly cool here in Wisconsin—mid-70s—and breezy, so I’ve been spending as much time as possible outside, today taking photographs: of sailboats, bridges, flowers, Frisbee-playing swimmers, ducks.
At the base of the lighthouse, I took the chained anchor photo. Well, some lady did (I gave in)…at which point her two children positively squealed with delight, saying that it was the funniest photo EVER and staging their own silly shoot as I wandered off.
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The New York Times recently published this travel article: “36 Hours in Cape May.”
Thanks to Lisa for alerting us—we already have plans for a few spots on the list.
So Friday—tomorrow!—it’s ON, and I’m OFF. I’m anxious to the point of mania, true, but nostalgia for summer in the Berkshires is giving me pause.
Finally, we’re in the best of seasons (let’s pause for a few !!!!!!!!!!!)…….
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On any given day, this is me.
Not exactly, but I drink a lot of water—tap water, which I filter through a trusty Brita fridge pitcher and then pour into a portable bottle.
Since I’ll be on the road for the next few months, I decided to streamline this process and purchase….
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I considered driving across the country on motorcycle.
That brilliant idea lasted all of five minutes, during the ride my dad and I took this weekend on our respective bikes, my first this season. (Even though I’m a thirteen-year veteran of the sport (Really—do the math), I’m mildly superstitious and have been filled with trepidation in the wake of my recent bad-luck streak. Turns out, it was the same as it always is: wild, and like…riding a bike.)
It’s addictive, being out there, with the road whirring along inches beneath your feet, wholly vulnerable and completely fearless at the same time, without much protection to speak of and virtually zero distraction. It’s just you, traveling through nature, enjoying the things you can’t when trapped inside a box: feeling the temperature drop a few degrees as you climb up the mountain in Windsor, Mass.; inhaling the sweet smell of damp fern at the edge of the Mohawk State Forest; zooming through a flurry of dandelion fuzz while crossing the Little Hoosic River. You might see a sherbet-yellow butterfly, flitting across the road, its tiny button body making the voyage haphazard and carefree. You might make eye contact with a dragonfly, a split-second before it splatters into your face shield. You don’t dare try to wipe the remains away; that will just make more of a mess. All of these are details lost when traveling by car…..