Muir Woods in 20 Minutes or Less

So this past weekend I ran in the craziest race ever. It was a 25K/15M trail race that started on the beach, went up a mountain, dipped down into a ravine, continued back up the mountain, and then wound back down to the beach. The first 3 miles were straight uphill, and I spent the rest of the race leaping over fallen trees and small creeks, ducking under felled Redwoods, and generally trying not to trip and tumble down the mountainside (although I'm sure my time would have been much faster). I even climbed up a ladder drilled into a rock-face. The course contained everything an intrepid explorer/runner could hope for: old gold-mining trails, tiny waterfalls springing from moss-covered boulders, a grove full of ancient ferns and spindly Redwoods, mountaintop fields swathed with purple wildflowers, and that California ocean mist pervading all the micro-climes. Best of all, I ran through places that contain some of my favorite California memories. Pan Toll Ranger Station, where Maria and I spent the night on my first California camping trip, was where the race's First Aid Station (a very happy place complete with bananas and Gatorade) was located, and the halfway point was in Muir Woods, where I took Kate and Julia right after getting them married! It was a fantastic race (and my first in 6 years!) and a great way to say goodbye to California. Even better was my satisfaction in completing the 25K. I was only going to run in the 7 mile, but at the last second (almost literally) hoped into the start line with the other 25Kers. I ended up placing 15th. If the SRs ever need a getaway runner, I feel like I could fit the bill.

Travels

Appenzell Region, Switzerland

Cinque Terre, Italy

Schwyz, Switerland


Mary Tyler Teresa


Evil German?


Nope, awesome German!!

Nomadic Thoughts on Transient Lifestyles

So recently I have been getting really into tiny houses. Mostly because I feel that perhaps, someday, I could actually own my own very, very tiny house. Also, I have been thinking that perhaps having small, mobile structures would be a really great way to go for the beta version of the SR Commune. Anyway, tinyhousedesign.com and tinyhouseblog.com are two of my new favorite websites, and I have pulled a bunch of my favorite images of various types of tiny houses for your viewing pleasure. I hope this gets the old wheels turning in all of your minds. Also, click on any pic for a link to their original postings.

Teardrop Bike Trailer


Haus Boat

Awesome Gypsy Pod

More Gypsy Awesomeness (technically a sheep wagon)

Art Shanty Project


In case we are ever really destitute

A Find

So a few weeks ago I went to a zine expo, and as I wandered around flipping through various zines, I stumbled upon a gem! This little zine, titled "Remainders" and created by Susie Cagle, has a full page spread dedicated to displaying the various luncheon treats served at Harrisonburg High School. Needless to say, I totally lost any vestiges of self control that I might normally possess, and let my eyes get that crazy look in them while I yelled, "Oh my GOD, are you from Harrisonburg??" Susie Cagle looked a little frightened; I am sure that my wild expression confirmed in her mind that chicken fryz can do long-lasting damage to a person's (in this case, mental) health. She explained (to my disappointment and probably to her relief) that no, she was not from Harrisonburg, but that HHS's website posted pictures and descriptions of their lunch menus online. Long story short, I had to buy her zine.

Something I May Have Forgotten to Mention

My roommate, Cherie Saulter, and I have been very curious about the recycling culture that thrives in our neighborhood. A few months ago we decided to interview and photograph some of the people bringing their bottles and cans to Alliance Metals, one of the recycling centers nearby. In December we were chosen to have our "photo-documentary" project shown at Rock Paper Scissors, the small community arts space that I work at as a bookkeeper. It was a small show, and sort of put on by our friends, but it was still pretty cool to see our work up in a public space.

Our display was pretty awesome. We hung the series of photos up, and underneath we had a shopping cart full of cans and bottles. Several of the cans contained the interviews I had gathered, and so people had to sort through the recycling to find the stories. Below are a few of the photos that were shown (taken by Cherie), and the artists' statement that I wrote.

Rita

Danny

What Would Freud Say?

Last night I dreamed that a certain male friend of mine, let us call him Ax, was in my kitchen cooking, without the aid of clothing. Only it took me an excruciatingly long time to find out whether he was fully naked, or just topless, because kitchen islands, hundreds of them, kept blocking my view of him below the waist. It was like being trapped inside of a horror movie where you are running through corridor after corridor trying to escape a killer, but instead, I was trapped in the set of a Playboy spread from the '60's, where furniture, or bowls of fruit are always blocking the "naughty bits" of the models. I kept turning the corner of one kitchen island, hoping to find the truth of the situation, only to find more wooden islands! Finally I turned the last island; I was horrified: Ax was standing there, scrambling eggs, fully in the nude. "But Ax," I said (feebly trying to frame the direness of the situation), "I live with 15 other people, and they aren't that kind of hippie!" He smiled and put on an apron.

Later, in the same dream, another friend, let us call her Egg, appeared in my kitchen sporting a top-hawk with pink pigtails at the bottom. She also had a septum piercing and some rather monstrous biceps. "Why Egg," I said, "your muscles are looking very large," and walked off feeling confused about whether I had been properly mapping the development her character.

What are my possible analyzes of these dream scenes?


A. I find kitchens to be extremely frightening places

B. I am afraid that my friends are nudists and bikers (the motorized kind) and have been shielding me from this knowledge for years

C. That I will someday be trapped by efficient storage spaces and doppelgangers of my friends

I was glad when it was morning.

A Thanksgiving Adventure

So it seems that I am starting my own tradition of going camping for holidays. Last year for Christmas, Meg and I went to Point Reyes and had ourselves a glorious time. This year, Max and I went camping at Sunol Regional Wilderness for Thanksgiving. And while there was no turkey, there was a landscape to satiate much deeper hungers (there might also have been some very fine dark chocolate to help address that whole holiday food decadence thing). But the best part of the trip was that we were able to bike there, with all our camping gear in tow, in only two hours!! Rad!
Here are some pictures, taken by Max, of the Ohlone Trail, which we hiked the first day:

Halloween in California

Up until this point, I have done a very good job of not posting about Lobot. To become and stay a part of the Lobot community has been a decision that has impacted my life more than any other that I have made in the past year and a half. There is a lot that could be said about these people with whom I now share most things with, but I guess the most telling thing I could say is that we all love Halloween.

We love Halloween because it is a holiday that gives us an excuse to prance about in elaborate costumes that we have made out of trash and fabric; we love Halloween because it gives us the freedom to create new identities for an evening. We love it because it is not about family or religion or responsibilities. We love it because it is about antics, make-believe, and cavorting.

I cannot even begin to describe how much people at Lobot love Halloween. So I won't. Instead I will simply share some pictures. They are, supposedly, worth a thousand words anyway. Thus, I will let them speak for themselves.

Except to point out one thing: my costume is very scary. I am a haunted house, which is a very frightening thing to be. Much more frightening than say, a cuckoo clock, which is not frightening at all, and therefore not something I would ever be for Halloween.

all photos donated to Brazy Clog by Mark Deutch