Wednesday, February 18, 2009

Out on the Winding, Windy Moors, We'd Roll and Fall in Green


The last time I visited the Pacific Northwest, I was a child, first grade age, and we took a family trip up the coast and over into Portland from our home in Eugene, Oregon. Okay, so, I lived there as well, but my memories are vague.

I remember cramped, military barracks-style university housing whose walls wept moisture. I remember earthworms gathering by the handfuls in the puddles in our front yard, their flesh an irresistible, luminous pink. I remember learning to swim at the local YMCA, where, for graduation, I spent an hour atop the high dive until I mustered enough courage to jump down. This was a week or so after my first encounter with the ocean, when my father hoisted me off his shoulders to dip my virgin, heretofore earthbound feet into the teaming mass of surf that was the mighty Pacific and I felt the powerful tug of that massive body of water so strongly, I promptly screamed my head off.

Since then, I have learned to manage my fear of water, enough to have swam in the ocean, snorkeled the Caribbean, fished the Bitterroot, and paddled the Missouri. But I remain ever wary, ever respectful, of the power of water. I know when I'm outmatched. My feet seek terra firma whenever possible.

Today, the Pacific Northwest has evolved into a mythical spot in my imagination, a place shrouded in mist and curtained by ancient forests, like a scene in some Gothic novel where the hero and heroine meet up at midnight to vanquish a common foe, only she's driving a Prius and he's wearing mandals.

Tomorrow, I revisit in person this place of my imagination, along with three bloggie gal pals who many months ago suggested that, for grins and giggles, we should plan a meet up. Where we'll discuss such weighty matters as the Influence of Blogging on Sociological Structures in a Technologically Accelerated World, and then go do some shots and talk about American Idol. We'll also visit the Space Needle and eat some donuts. Mmmmmm . . . donuts.


Yes, I have to get on an airplane to do this. Y'all know how I feel about that. But like my fear of water, I keep this particular neurosis tamped down, too. After all, every hour is cocktail hour in the sky.

16 comments:

Big Shamu said...

Wait just a bloggie minute, NOBODY said anything about American Idol...

(I may have to upgrade my "Sleepwalks with knives" to "Sleepwalks with Chainsaw")

CHEF TROLL said...

If you see a White Boy driving a Prius whilst wearing mandals AND sporting dreadlocks and a Che Shirt will your head explode?

Doris Rose said...

Another surprise from Moi...who knew.
Sounds like a fun trip, enjoy.

moi said...

Shamu: Come on. You know you wanna.

Troll: That would fall under the physics experiment part of this excursion: Can Moi and Hippies Once Again Occupy the Same Spot on the Planet Without Ripping a Big Ass Hole in the Space/Time Continuum?

Doris: Well, not so much surprise as forgetful brain . . .

Aunty Belle said...

OH darlin' youse gonna have the finest time!

But here's the big Q :What SHOES is ya wearin'??

Big Shamu said...

Aunty, the real question is what shoes is she leaving behind?

moi said...

Aunty and Shamu: This has been the subject of much mental musing on my part and raises the question: Can I exist for a couple of days without contact with at least one pair of heels? I do not. Know.

pamokc said...

Ya'll are going to have so much fun, can't wait to read more about it. I thought Troll was talking about himself there for a minute. What if he crashes the party wearing that get-up????

Boxer said...

Hey Shamu, you want to watch Top Chef tonight? Then, you're gonna have to endure a little Idol Talk.

**puts a second bottle of Tequila on the list of things to pick up**

BWAHAHAHA to Troll. The Hippies are in Oregon, the Rock Climbers are in Washington. BIG difference. Plus, Hippies can't afford a Prius, they drive old VW Vans.

Top Pot, HMMMMMMMMM.

Great story Moi - I'll see you tomorrow. :-)

Boxer said...

Question for Moi's Feet: Can you walk a few miles in those heels?

moi said...

Pam: What would we do? Well, make him cook, of course!

Boxer: Phew. Thanks for the clarification. I can hang with climbers.

Boxer#2: Well, remember Fashion Maxim #459: If it's not a ballet flat, it's got a heel :o).

Wendy said...

Have a fabu time and eat a donut for me! Or better yet, have some seafood. But not a seafood donut. That would be icky.

fishy said...

Can't wait to read the postings from all the individual perspectives! Have a safe journey and a really
memorable adventure. I wish you could e-mail one of those doughnuts!

Gnomeself Be True said...

Punch a hippie for me.

CHEF TROLL said...

I don't know about hippies. I was referring to the scrawny punks who disrupted Seattle during the G-8 meetings. Damned near all of them sported filthy dread-locks and Che shirts. I'm sure they wear mandals too but they were wearing Doc Martens that Mommy bought during the riots.

WHATEVER they are, punch a few for me!

Wow, that was awkward said...

I love the PAC NW (but not AI). Stop in the Powell bookstore for me in Portland. And catch some music for me in Seattle.

Safe travels. Have fun!