On Solitude

I love being alone. For me, being alone means solitude. It means experiencing peace, presence, and empowerment. For others, being alone equates to loneliness and brings with it a slew of sad emotions.

I'm fascinated by how aloneness can be so wonderful for some people and so not-wonderful for others. Clearly, loneliness and solitude sit at opposing ends of the being-alone spectrum.

When people think of being alone, they typically think of physical isolation from other people. But it's not the only type of isolation that comes with being alone. How do I know this? Because the times when I have been most lonely in my life were times when I felt alone in the presence of other people. There's a lot to be said for mental isolation. Though I can be in the physical presence of another person and engaged in social interaction, if that social interaction is unfulfilling, then I feel mentally alone.

Riding the Rectangle: A Photo Journal

Of all the trips I led this summer, my favorite was the informal overnighter that I organized with friends along The Rectangle.

You may recall me mentioning The Rectangle Ride before. In my Bloated Fish & Butt Raisins post from 2013, I wrote about the perfect autumnal ride around The Rectangle. In my Backpacking in Hell's Canyon post from 2015, I mentioned my mid-winter ride around The Rectangle, in which I first saw the aftermath of the Oso landslide. Needless to say, The Rectangle Ride is my favorite close-to-home overnight bike trip.

In mid-September of this year, I rode The Rectangle for the sixth time. I thoroughly enjoyed sharing the ride with six friends. This is a photo journal of our trip.

The Gang (from l to r):
Brad, me, Yonina, David, Faisal, Eric, and El Mecánico.

Happy 4th Re-Birthday to Me!

Happy 4th Re-Birthday to Me!

Four years ago today, I quit my job and was thereby born again into a new life. Since my re-birth, I have luxuriated in the freedoms afforded by unstructured time and financial independence. Wow, what a joy ride it has been!

My Friend Joey

Meet my friend, Joey. She's one of those people that I am really glad to know. After you learn about Joey, you'll be glad you know her, too.

My friend, Joey. (Photo: Joey's Facebook page.)

For most of you, you will have met Joey through this blog post. But for me, I met Joey three summers ago when I was riding my bike eastbound across the country.

Cleavage, Gators, Moronic Laws, & Other Florida Musings

I just finished my three-week housesit in Florida. I'm at the Orlando airport, waiting to board a plane that will take me to my next adventure. As I look back at my time in Florida, I find myself musing on a number of topics. Be forewarned, some of these topics are more random than others.

Cleavage

I'll begin with my most profound musing: cleavage.

I am a sports bra girl. I wear them all the time -- sometimes even for days-straight when I'm on a bike trip. Fulfilling their definition, sports bras make it appear as though I have a single, compact boob. I own a regular bra, which I only wear with the one dress I own. Both the bra and the dress hardly ever see the light of day (or the dark of night, for that matter). Yes, for me, it's always a sports bra.

The heat here in Florida is sweltering. A few days into my housesit, I broke down and bought a tank top. The top happens to have a built-in bra -- one that actually separates and lifts my boobs rather than combines and compresses them. Heavens to Betsy! For the first time in years, I have cleavage!

Ladies and gentleman, I have cleavage.

It's been an interesting experience looking at myself in the mirror. I can't help but to stare -- wow, those boobies are mine!