The Adventure South in Dora the Explorer

 Day 4

There is absolutely nothing open in Haines Junction – only the To Go Gas Station where we camped last night. Anne is already in trouble having slipped under the bed, crawling to the back and how she did I don’t know, snagged a half-eaten can of dog food from a very inaccessible spot. Okay girly, you are in the crate. We are headed to Whitehorse at 8 AM and the roads are of course slick and snow-packed. You know what they say about Alaska, if you don’t like the weather wait a few minutes. Well, we’re in the Yukon and apparently the same holds true. Ten miles out of Haines we are surrounded by blue skies and clear, YES clear, dry roads! I set the cruise control to 70 MPH for the first time in days.  As we sail down the road I realize RockDog is not in his spot beside me. I call him and nothing, calling again still no RockDog. I use the emergency recall word that always works, but no RockDog. What the hell? And then it hits me. He has learned how to be an opportunist like his Aunt Anne, much like he’s learned how to lie on the dashboard of Veve from Auntie Zip. I know he is under the bed looking for food but why is he not coming? I stop Dora in the middle of the road, turn on the flashers and go have a look. I feel his fur but he has gotten himself over the bed frame and cannot get back out, Anne is much smaller. I have to open the back door and pull out the packed crates to get him out. I am not happy and he is in deep shit going immediately to his crate. This is a hell of way to start out the day.

Dry Roads - Yippppeeee!

Back to driving and ignoring the both of them, I realize the odometer just turned over 1,000 K, and we only have three more to go - plus a few hundred miles.

Wide-open clean, dry roads from Whitehorse toward Watson Lake for over 200 miles, now this is more like it. And then what happens? The blizzard from hell, whiteout conditions, icy roads and mucho inclines. My knuckles are once again gripping the wheel so hard that they are white. I am pissed. I said I wouldn’t do this again and it is getting dark. Only 70 more miles, but that’s a hell of a long way in a snowstorm. No more setting the cruise control instead we are down to 35-40 MPH and of course uphill if I accelerate at all, I am once again fishtailing. Will it ever end?

Dora the Explorer take me to a place where the cars are clean and the roads are clear of ice and snow. Take me to a place where I don’t freeze my ass off every time I step outside. Take me where there is green grass and flowers are blooming. Dora, Dora take me away. But first get me to the nearest bathroom and then a bar - in that order.

Day 4 ended safely in Watson Creek just before sundown, and there was no bar open.

Luce Goose resting in her spot

Wood Boy asleep in the Captain's Chair

The Adventure South in Dora the Explorer

Day 3

the road ahead

We slept like babies in Dora. I did turn the engine off around midnight so we had to snuggle close to stay warm under the down comforter and fleece blanket from home. When we got up it was still dark outside but obvious that the snow was still falling, only now it was coming down sideways because of the wind. RockDog and Bunny had a blast rolling around in it! I thought about the roads and decided to stay put until the sun came up which was around 8 AM, and then put off leaving until the plow trucks had sanded the roads. We are 100 miles from the Canadian border and another 250 to Haines Junction.  A breakfast of poached eggs, hashbrowns, rye toast, and crispy bacon at Fast Eddie’s to contemplate the weather situation. By this time it is already 11:30 and time to hit the road. The roads were okay once I got used to the snow and ice. We cruise into customs and cross the border with ease. Of course we are not asked for the doggie papers that cost $260 to get! Grrrr. As the dogs snooze I have time to reflect on my feelings of the past few days and realize how much of it is fear based. . “Fear is the mind creating a scenario that you don’t want.” A quote from a yoga practice.

Fear grips the mind. Fear is debilitating. When allowed, fear controls. Fear is only good when it heightens awareness, anything more than that is lethal. We live in a fear-based society. Just  listen to the news or read a newspaper to get a daily injection of the stuff.

entering Canada, finally

I reflect on a dream I had a few nights before leaving Homer. I was driving VeVe on a narrow road with a shear drop-off on the right. I somehow knew if my tire went over the edge and got caught, that VeVe would plummet over the side. Soon I felt the tire catch and knew she was going to roll, just as I swung open the driver’s door and dove out. I sadly watch her go - falling down, down, down - waiting for the explosion that never happened. The next scene was inside a room full of unknown people that were not interested in hearing about my near death story. A hand suddenly reached in my chest and gripped my heart as I realize RockDog and an elderly dog were inside VeVe. My mind frantically tried to remember dropping them off at home before getting on the road. But I knew they had been in the car and desperately tried to get someone to help me get to them. I was invisible, no one heard me. The hand gripped tighter in my chest until the air was squeezed completely out of me and I could no longer breathe. I woke up to find RockDog lying across my chest fast asleep

U-Haul over the side

My dream is the manifestation of fear. My body was purging it from my mind. Fear of what, I don’t know. I suppose you could say the unknown. And what’s interesting is the anticipation of fear is always so much worse than the event itself.  When I began driving today I was nervous, but as I proceeded down the road I realized it wasn’t bad at all. Wide-open snow packed (some ice) highway with only a handful of people passing me. The sun was out and I knew we were going to be okay in Dora. We saw a white fox dancing in the center of the road. When I got close enough to get his picture, he scampered over the hill. The next one would not be so lucky.

We finally arrive in Haines Junction well after sunset, something I won’t do again. The last 50 miles were white knuckle scary – lots of inclines, dark, cold and icy roads and absolutely no traffic. No one was crazy enough to be out there with me except for one car, far behind.  Ten miles out I see another young white fox dancing in the middle of the road about 100 yards ahead of me. I put on the brakes and immediately start sliding and had to let up. I couldn’t help it, I could tell he was blinded by my lights and couldn’t move. I had nowhere to go. I hit him and I cried. My heart ached. Unfortunately it was our time to meet - his time to die and my time to grieve.

The end of Day 3 at last. I am sad.

Entering the Yukon

The road behind

More road ahead

To be continued. . . 

The Adventure South in Dora the Explorer

Day 2

Zach & Jake in Dora

We are up at 7 AM and ready to hit the road by 9:30. My three favorite Alaska boys were on the front porch blowing kisses and good wishes as we pull out the driveway. I wonder how I can possibly leave them for six months. The sun is shining and the roads are dry, a good day for a drive. Making our way north on Alaska 1 let the journey begin. With the busyness of my life behind me I am centered in the moment, back to my more spiritual self. How can I fall so far away from the peaceful, serene feelings of being in the moment? I allow life to get in the way and lose sight of the big picture by getting caught up in the details of day-to-day living. This is when I crave a road trip, a time to once again fill my spring and reflect on who I am and what is really important in life.

Alaska is so much a part of my being; flashbacks are normal having spent over four decades here. As I pass Chickaloon I think of Jimmy Roush and how he loved to fish these waters, and that makes me smile. I cross over a bridge and see a sign “Jackass Creek.” How many times have I have driven this road and never noticed this sign? That too makes me smile. Sheep Mountain Lodge, I am reminded of a friend that had an affair and brought his mistress to this lodge, miles away from Anchorage. Geeze that was in the 70’s but every time I pass this place that’s the story that pops in my head.

I cross Mabel Creek and I think about the lovely black cocker spaniel fospices that I left behind in Homer with her other foster mom for the winter. I know she is meandering around the house, somehow she knows if she doesn’t keep moving she will have a hard time getting up. Such a determined little girl, she has taught me to age with grace and perseverance. I will miss her sweet face and disposition.

The Herd

As we pass through Glennallen on the way to Tok Junction the sign says: “damaged highway ahead” and they were not kidding! The frost heaves were so big that anything over 40 MPH would have Dora airborne! There is the herd of caribou that cross the road in front of me around 60 miles from Tok. It always happens, and today is no different – they cross in front of my car headed north (never south) to bid me farewell and a safe journey, knowing I will return to the Greatland because I always do. The roads are scrapped and we are no longer fishtailing, probably because Dora and I have a pact. She will get us where we need to go on this journey, and we in turn will be grateful for her. We arrive in Tok around 4:30 PM once again exhausted. Not because of driving today, but a lack of sleep from last night.

Luce, DoDog & RockDog in Dora

I have driven this road 16-17 times and it’s always a marathon to get there as quickly as I can. Well, this time we are going to take time to settle and remain introspective. I had originally thought of going on to Haines Junction today, another 250 miles. But instead I parked at the local Cheron Station, out back with all the truckers, made a dinner of couscous Parmesan soup, gorgonzola spread on rosemary flatbread, and dark chocolate with sea salt and almonds. I then fed the dogs and put in a movie. Yes, that’s right – Dora has a VHS player with speakers that rock. Before leaving we went to the Salvation Army and got some old films to watch along the way – tonight is the First Wives Club – Bette Midler, Goldie Hawn & Diane Keaton. There is nothing better than watching a good movie in Dora with six sleeping dogs surrounding me.

View out Dora's Window

Day 2 comes to an end as snow continues to fall outside.

Stay tuned. . . 

The Adventure South in Dora the Explorer

Day 1

With RockDog

October 17^th, 2012 – the first day of a real snowfall. And, it’s just the day before I leave to drive south for the winter. I didn’t want to shovel snow at all this year, but guess what? I had to, not one deck but three. Departure day comes with still more snow but I refuse to shovel this morning, instead leaving it for the dogsitters. Dora is packed and waiting for me, and the six canines to climb onboard. We leave as planned at 9 AM, with a rough start by having to make two attempts to clear the driveway. But alas, we are now on our way. Goodbye Homer town, so happy to be leaving the white stuff in the rear view mirror.

Driving across Dimond Ridge Road Dora keeps fishtailing for some reason. Yes, it’s a bit slippery but she weights a ton, maybe two. We finally make it to the Sterling Highway headed north, the first day of our adventure south. I am ecstatic to see Black Water Bend is open so we can start our trip off with a Bender Blender – decaf espresso with vanilla ice cream topped with whipped cream, plus a dog biscuit for all things furry. Of course before I can get the money out to pay for my coffee, DoDog and RockDog have their tongues in the straw hole licking the whipped cream. I yell at both of them to get their butts in the back with a threat of going to the crate if they can’t behave. Fat chance, and they probably know it’s an idle threat. As I pull out of the coffee stop Dora skids a bit, not a big deal. I set the cruise control to 55 and off we go. Duhhh, what am I thinking? Well, actually I’m so excited I’m not. As soon as we start uphill into Anchor Point Dora kicks up her heels and we are in a side way slide in no time flat. Okay, so the cruise control is not a good idea on snow covered roads. Yikes! We obviously need some bonding time to get to know each other.

The roads clear and we cruise to Soldotna and beyond. When we reach Sterling I put on the brakes to turn off and realize there is no way, Dora just keeps on going. The road is a glaring piece of ice and the Dora is out of control. Fortunately I remember to stay off the brakes, and bring her back around quickly. No sand trucks in sight anywhere and I find myself driving 35 MPH on what looks like a skating rink. What the hell, do I have snow tires? No studs for sure, but what the hell do snow tires look like? I crept along all the way to Coopers Landing. After that it was touch and go, some clear spots where the sun hit, and then more ice – the drive from hell took about 5.5 hours. I realize snow tires would not matter on ice, only studs would help, and hello – I’m going to North Carolina!

We arrive in Anchorage to bright, sunny skies and head straight for the dog park. All six dogs slept the entire way and are ready for a hike. They are definitely getting their road trip legs. Dora is properly christened with muddy paws when we return.

Stretching our legs

Making friends

We spend the night in Wasilla having pizza at Locals and hanging out with Chad & family. I sleep on the couch but getting the dogs to settle is another story. They are out of their routine and confused. I am exhausted from the driving experience and just want to go to sleep. I almost doze off when I hear two-year old Jake yell “Chadford, Chadford” just as my son’s feet hit the floor and he makes his way across the house to see what’s up. He finds DoDog on top of Jake in his bed, wanting to cuddle. She is used to stretching out across a queen-sized bed every night and the couch with me and five other dogs is not her idea of fun. So, in the dark she went on the hunt for a bed and thought she found one. But Jake wasn’t having any of it. DoDog is once again returned to the living area where she has to sleep on a leather recliner, rather than a cushy bed. Can’t blame the girl for trying. Once again we all settle down for a long winter’s nap as I squirm my way back into my postage stamp size spot with five sleeping dogs sprawled out around me. Far be it from me to cause them discomfort J

The Incredible Hulk! 

Day one finally ends - asleep on the couch surrounded by five dogs and in tune with the rhythm of a snoring basset hound in the chair. 

to be continued. . . 

Like Rolling Stones

Angry Clouds

Torrential rains, gusty winds and power outages; is it only September? There has been pouring rain in Homer for days maybe weeks, I have lost track. Occasionally a sunny morning or afternoon, but the rest of the time, Rain with a capital R. Nothing like a houseful of wet dogs to make you smile, It’s pretty bad when they go to the door, peer outside and quickly return to their comfy beds. When I force the issue they tiptoe around the yard finding the perfect spot to relieve their bladders and scurry back to the door. Forget #2, they can hold it for hours.

Driveway Puddles

One has to wonder the reason this is happening and take it a bit personal. Of course I am the only one affected. Is Alaska trying to endear me to her? Is this a joke? Am I being forced to make the move I have talked about for ten years? How about on a spiritual level, what could be made of this horrific weather so early in the season? Do I have to get totally miserable before I get the hell out of here for the winter? It's less than a month when the dogs and I hightail it for sun somewhere in the lower 48, assuming of course this land is not completely flooded and we get stuck. That being the case I would be forced to throw myself over the edge of something.

Of course plans are sketchy. Actually they are not, and that’s what freaks me out. I have purchased a van to get us there, I have rented a 6-bedroom, 4-bath house for a year that will need to be furnished, and I have dogsitters arriving to take over TBTB Dog Camp October 17^th. All of this is in the works, but I have yet to pay for anything. It’s the C word again. And Commitment scares the shit out of me.

The van is in Kenai and I have committed to buying it once I get someone to drive me the 75 miles to pick it up and pay the cash. I put an ad on the Facebook classified page and I have advertised on the NPR ride line. So, far there has been no response. Is this a sign? I’m forever looking for hidden messages that change my plans.

I have a lease to sign for the house. The landlord has agreed to all SIX dogs and allowing me to sublet the additional bedrooms and even open a yoga studio and/or a B&B for humans with their dogs if I so desire. The house is located in the historical district of Hendersonville, North Carolina and is zoned commercial. I have friends there. Why hesitate? Probably because it seems so simple, every thing is falling into place. Isn’t that a sign that this is what I should do?

The hesitation is about MONEY or so I like to think. If I sold a house I would go for this without a second thought. As it is, I am operating on my savings that is well, not much. But I have had $$’s in the bank before and I’m just as indecisive then, maybe more so. Plus I have traveled across the country with far less money than I have now.

The reason I am writing about this is to gain clarity in my own head. Ha!

My options as I see them are really unlimited. I could:

1.        Get on with said plans and make everything simple – STOP questioning every decision I make.

2.       Chuck it all and go to California and live, as I have always wanted to do. The downside of that is the expense of living there. North Carolina is much more affordable, but is it as much fun? How will I be in the south? I grew up in West Virginia and couldn’t wait to go west. But I have been assured that the Asheville area is to North Carolina what Austin is to Texas. It’s not anything like being in North Carolina.

3.       Buy a Toyota motor home and travel for the winter with my house on my back so to speak. The downside of that scenario is I have done it before and although it is a wonderful vacation, when I return to Alaska in the spring I still have not resolved the issue of wanting to make my home base somewhere other than Homer; becoming a true snowbird not just a vacationing one.

4.       Stop delaying my long-term plans and go to Provence. The downside of that is I need to sell a condo before I can go to France. The expense of getting us there would mean staying for at least a year.

5.       Fly off to Maui with 6 dogs and spend the winter on the beach enjoying all things Hawaiian. However, I don’t really think it’s a dog friendly place and rents are very expensive.

Ah, the choices go on and on. I can do anything I want, that is the problem. I cannot decide on what I want for more than a few days without finding reasons why I should do something else. What I do know is what I don’t want - snow for 8 months and darkness for 6.

So, what is the clarity I seek lying awake at 3 AM contemplating? In true ROUSH fashion plans will change a couple more times in my head before I leave, because I'm still second-guessing myself. It’s a pattern and I do it every time I give up the security of my home and what I know – stepping out of my comfort zone. But change is also when I grow mentally by pushing myself to do something different.

Crazy Broad

It’s the adventure and the thrill of the unknown that drives me; the time I feel most alive. But it also makes me a crazy broad for a couple months leading up to the time I actually leap off the cliff, knowing full-well I will land on my feet. But, what if my west coast energy doesn’t translate in North Carolina? Oh well, I can’t let my fears paralyze me into doing nothing. I have to move on my instincts and go from there. Everything always works out the way it is suppose to and I know the universe will provide what I need to continue on my path; forever a wanderlust.

More than likely I will buy the van in Kenai, rent the house in North Carolina for a year, set up a business to support myself so I can live rent free, come back to Alaska in April and see where it goes from there. Those are my long-term plans and I usually don’t make any plans six months in advance.

Rolling Stones

There you have it, a Commitment. So Alaska, you can stop raining anytime now. I get it; you don’t have to convince me with endless rain and wind. We're out of here for the winter, tumbling down the road like rolling stones - me with five cocker spaniels and a basset hound named DoDog.

And the clarity I seek finally pokes through the fog: all of this seems so incredibly trivial in the big picture called life. 

Why France?

Saignon

Moon over Saignon

Bonjour Saignon! The enchanted rock village overlooking the town of Apt in the Luberon region of Provence is timeless. I am thrilled to be here once again, this time in the summer rather than the fall, where the temperatures reach the high 80’s during mid-day but cool considerably after sundown. There is a cooling breeze during the summer months that becomes a strong, cold, dry northerly wind referred to as a mistral in the winter. And currently the full moon is shining down on the village making the scene magical, like a storybook fantasy.

“Why France?”  How do you describe a lifestyle so foreign to the American way? It’s the quality of life that draws people near and far. France is the perfect place to retire for many reasons, especially the health care program. It is unheard of to be turned away by a doctor for lack of insurance. They treat you anyhow and charge you based on your income, and if you can’t pay well that’s okay too. It’s illegal to turn people away from medical care. It is also illegal to discriminate against dog owners, when leasing an apartment.

Americans question the percentage of taxes imposed by the French government. I wonder if you consider what those taxes cover, things that we Americans pay directly out of our own pocket, who really comes out ahead? For example, a working family having a baby is provided a nanny to help with the baby, and the mother is on paid leave for a year after the birth. The workweek is shorter in hours and the vacation periods are longer. Everyone is on holiday for the entire month of August. The value of family life is revered.

Fresh Tomatoes

The simple life where family, community and friends are the central focus and making a living is what you do, not necessarily something you live, eat and breathe. It is about enjoying life rather than just getting by. A lifestyle that is conducive to living in the moment rather than waiting for this or that to feel complete. And the pace is much slower, even in Paris, than what we know as a culture. It’s about embracing life and enjoying those around you. Meals are a celebration where people sit down and spend a lengthy time together. There is no snacking between meals, eating at desks or in cars, and eating on the run just doesn’t exist. Consequently obesity is not an issue. Dinner is the time people come together to share conversation along with the fresh foods of the season and local wine. Need I say more about why I love it here?

Beau & Moi, the Dogwalker

My days have settled into a routine that is as flexible as I want it to be. I am living in a small village in my own private space, far removed from the tourist world. Rising with the sun and driving Beau, the Spanish Greyhound, to the trails for an hour-long hike through the countryside, starts my day. The terrain is a reminder that the Romans inhabited Provence for over four hundred years and the stones protruding out of the ground on the trail are evidence of that time. How awesome to be this close to a history so long ago. The scent of lavender fills my nostrils as we pass the recently harvested fields. We greet bicyclers with the traditional Bonjour and have become friends with a British man walking his dog on the trail. I can’t speak the language well but the French are not only forgiving, they are extremely helpful in my attempt. We encounter horseback riders and open pastures where Beau is free to run like the wind. I keep walking and he eventually catches up with me to show me the way at the crossroads.

After & Before the Harvest

Rock Trail

Returning to the flat Beau has his breakfast and is now ready for a nap that will last until early afternoon. I return to my flat where I prepare an espresso with an incredible Krups machine that makes better cafés than most coffee shops I know. Often times before returning home we visit the village of Apt for a trip to the market where in-season vegetables and fruits abound. The French eat what is seasonable at the time, therefore eliminating the need for processed foods. Now is the season for juicy cantaloupes, scrumptious tomatoes, squash, corn on the cob, and all things green. Filling my bag with more than enough, I find a boulangerie for a freshly baked baguette and then look for Camembert fromage. OMG if you have tasted French cheese of any kind you know there is no comparison to the taste. And, the wine? This time of year Rosé is preferred. Being an American I wrinkle my nose thinking only of White Zinfandel whenever Rosé is mentioned. As a prior restaurant owner I refer to White Zin as the wine people, who don’t really like wine drink. I am assured that the French Rosé is closer to a white - crisp, light, refreshing and the preferred Vin for the season. Okay so I bought it and true to all the claims, it is a perfect match for a hot summer day. And the cost was a mere five euros.

Back to the flat for a quick look at emails that connect me with the rest of the world, some writing, a walk around Saignon with my camera and then a nap. French people love their naps and they are not only refreshing but also good for the body and soul. Napping is not just for the young and old, it is for everyone. The shops and businesses lock their doors from Noon until 3 PM and people rest, as they should.

These are only a few of the reasons for, “Why France?” It’s a beautiful place with a slower, more relaxed lifestyle that resonates strongly with me. Did I mention the pastel Pink toilet paper? When is the last time you saw pink toilet paper? Ahhh, that’s what I thought. Rumor has it that there is also bright red and purple too! How funny is that?

Roush Dogs

If only my six canine roommates were with me in this magical place, there would be little need to hurry home. As it were I will continue to savor every moment until I get on a plane bound for the world, as I know it. I will leave with the thought of returning once again with all my la chiens, to live like a French woman for a time. At least until the wanderlust returns, and beacons me forward to yet another foreign land.

Au revoir

Relax & Renew in The City By The Bay

Art on the Street

Being a yoga junkie I have wanted to attend a Restorative Teacher Training session with the guru, Judith Lasater for some time. The Relax & Renew Workshop is offered twice a year, and the San Francisco dates are always in mid-summer when Tails-By-The-Bay Dog Camp is slammed. But this year I decide to book early with the intention of getting a dogsitter and attending the session anyhow. Sometimes it means planning in advance, which is something I’m not the greatest at, but nevertheless on July 22, 2012 I find myself in the city by the bay ready to start training in the AM.

Arriving at SFO airport at 8 PM I have booked a shuttle to 312 Mason Street, the International Hostel in Union Square. Rooms are only $42/night compared to $150-$200 other places. I get to the hostel around 10 PM and find myself in the top bunk of a 4-person female dorm. This is okay for tonight but tomorrow morning I will ask to be moved to a different room so that I can have a bottom bunk. Staying at hostels is my mode of operation when traveling alone. They are full of interesting people and the inconvenience of peeing down the hall doesn’t bother me because the price is right. This particular hostel does not have a gang bathroom like most, but instead has individual rooms with a shower, and individual rooms with a green toilet. Okay so that means there is a sink on the back of the toilet that runs clean water that would normally be wasted, every time you flush. So once you pee you can turn around and wash your hands with the free flowing water – pretty cool.

The next morning I get up early and start to brush my teeth when it is ‘suggested’ by one of the Swedish girls that I do that elsewhere so I would not wake up the roommate. Okay so where do I do that, I ask and they tell me in the toilet using the sink on the back. I ignore them and proceed to quietly brush my teeth in the sink located in the room. If you can’t be flexible living in a hostel then why do it? I’m definitely getting a different room.

After getting dressed, doing my hair and promptly ignoring their disgusted faces I went to the front desk and ask to be moved. Not a problem, they moved me next door to a bottom bunk, and get this - the room has a private bath and the price is the same. Yipppeee! Goodbye Swedish chicks, I’m out of here! And I have a private bath to share with only three other women! Sorry about your luck, but you can brush your teeth in the toilet.

Not sure exactly where the workshop is in the city I decide that I am going to exercise and enjoy the weather in California. I have my GPS that can find any address I need. The yoga workshop is at the Yoga Tree Castro on 18^th Street. I find the location on my IPhone approximately 2.5 miles away. We are required to bring three blankets, a yoga mat, a strap, a textbook, and eye pillow with us. The studio will provide everything else. Needless to say I have a suitcase to tote along with me on my walk to the Castro. The route takes me down Market Street, passing many interesting characters along the way. The homeless people set up camps on the street and sleep late in the morning sun. If I were homeless I too would want to be in the California sun.

Relax & Renew

I find the Yoga Tree in time to check in and then find a coffee café called Spikes where I have a decaf, skinny latte before class. Our sessions start at 11:15 and end promptly at 4:15 with a 30-minute break to visit the organic grocery store across the street to grab a salad, and sit out front in the sun to enjoy it. The workshop is everything I thought it would be and more. Lasater is a gifted, motivational, spiritual teacher. So many interesting people from all over the world, psychotherapists, care givers, psychologists, physical therapists, yoga instructors and one lone dogsitter. A classmate living directly across the street volunteered to store our belongings in her apartment so we wouldn’t have to take them home each night. Can you imagine, there were 80 of us. That was so kind of her to offer her living area as a storage room and we were extremely grateful. That means I have no excuse but to run the 2.5 miles to class. For the next five days I ran to class every morning and walked home in the afternoon. Essentially racking up 5+ miles of exercise daily. The sun was shining, the wind was blustery and the smell of the city was extraordinary. All sorts of food odors intermingled to assault the sensory orifice and keep one hungry all the time – great marketing strategy. On the final day of class I decide to take a yoga vinyasa class at 9 AM that kicked my ass, prior to the workshop. It was tough but I preserved knowing it was all for the good of my body.

Twin Peaks

San Francisco is a lovely city where anything goes. On Thursday evening near the corner of Market & Castro, in front of a bar called Twin Peaks I stop in my tracks when I see a completely naked young man standing there, leaning back on a brick wall, sunning himself. I was so startled but didn’t want to stare so I just kept walking like everyone else wishing I could get a picture. But of course that would draw big time attention my way, so instead I just glanced out of the corner of my eye as I passed by. No one seems to even notice. Well, okay I don’t want to act like a tourist so I keep moving wondering what the hell that was about. And then, on Friday on my way home on the same street counter, the sun is out and there is a different naked man, this time he’s older with a cowboy hat, absolutely nothing else. Of course I keep moving but cannot resist asking the guy walking next to me about it. He replied, “oh, it’s just San Francisco, and it is legal here as long as they don’t fondle themselves.” He mumbled something about Cincinnati being conservative while trying to be liberal contrasting it by saying San Francisco is liberal with a conservative slant. . . whatever that means. So now I know, if you want you can stand on a street corner naked in San Francisco and no one will even notice, let alone care. What a shocker especially for an isolated Homerite that doesn’t always know what goes on in the rest of the world.

My final morning I am up at 4 AM to catch the shuttle that will arrive at 5:02 taking me to United Airlines where I will catch yet another flight to Newark connecting to Flight #56 to Paris. Goodbye beautiful San Francisco by the bay. I am leaving a piece of my heart with you. People are friendly and non-judgmental, the food is fabulous, the wine even better, the Bay sparkles and the weather rocks, at least while I was there. And, the Cindy Sherman retrospective at the MOMA is a must see.

I will be back! The wanderlust never rests.