The arduous, yet cleansing fires of moving out, as well as leave-of-absences duly granted at work have suddenly illuminated the nearness of my trip. I'm told these blog contraptions are the wave of the future, and anticipate that there is at least one person in the world who might be interested in reading about what I'm doing (Hi Mom!).
I'm excited. I would be a fool to complain about the lovely rut I've worn into the streets of Seattle. It truly is a glorious track, filled with good friends, shelter and food, gainful employ, some climbing in the summer, some skiing in the winter, nearby family, awesome girlfriend. Nonetheless, just as moving house--while time consuming and physically arduous--does result in the distillation of one's possessions to the needed and useful, climbing the rut seems like it might shed a new spectrum on one's life and means of relating. And even if that ends up not being the case, it's probably not the worst idea.