August 1st, 2001

    Have you ever kept a diary? It's an experience everyone should try. If you haven't, you should at least try it, if even for a short time. It's very educational.

    I did, for several years. You learn a lot about your life, about the people around you, and about the world you live in. Things are never quite the same when written. You start out writing several chapters' worth in your enthusiasm, but after awhile, you get tired of elaborating on the highlights from your day. Somehow, eventually, you find yourself scribbling a list the events that took place over the day, very much resembling a to-do list, only it's more like a have-done list. Fun fun.

    It forces you to evaluate your writing abilities and ask yourself questions. How brief should you be? How much detail is boring?

    And the best part is several years later, when you discover your old journal and flip through it. You marvel at all the interesting things that took place and reminisce about events long forgotten. And personally, my favorite part was where I tried to described the dreams I'd had. Funny how you forget things like that, and how easily a simple reminder will bring it back.

    I eventually quit because while I was trying to capture it on paper, life rushed by. I turned to fiction. More fun, less stress.

    But the new thing to do is keep an online journal. Seems risky, but fun. I know it's especially interesting to read someone else's work. I don't spend enough time online to really keep an online diary, but I will keep a month-to-month update page. Ok, I'll try to keep it brief so it isn't laborious to read (oops, too late!). To add interest, I'll include PICTURES! How many times did I wish I could have done that in my old fashioned diaries? They'd be worth showing off now, yeah!

 

August 2, 2001 (in the a.m.)

    July started out pretty slow. I had a lot of plans, but not much was happening. One afternoon, just for kicks, I went into a 24 hour fitness club and took the tour. I'd always been curious about those kind of places, and now I know. An expensive place to work-out. The guy trying to sell me a membership kept staring at me. "So...," he mused. "What brought you here? I mean, what are you looking for? I mean..."

    I had told him that I bicycled 10 to 20 miles a week, on the average, jumped on the trampoline a minimum of 45 minutes a day, and hiked whenever I got a chance. He noted that I didn't need to lose weight and I had very little interest in muscle toning.

    After taking the guided tour, and hearing how much it cost for a minimal membership (more than I'd spend on a second-hand car), I left with a smile on my face, and he knew I'd never be back. But it was worth it, for the perplexed expression on his face.

That was the day I tried the bus system between Stayton and Salem. There are advantages and disadvantages to living 20 miles from a town of any size. And not having a car poses another challenge. However, I was delighted by modern public transportation. This year is the first time the little towns out here have enjoyed bus service, and I sincerely hope it catches on.

A small tragedy struck mid-July. A dear and loyal pet, Claire, disappeared for no apparent reason. She was a fiercely independent cat, but this was out of character. In the days following her disappearance, I was in denial about it. But evidence started showing up that she was gone forever. Like all pet owners who have lost a dear animal, I started having the typical kitty's-been-found dreams. It's painful to wake up in the morning and realize it was just a dream.

As though in a noble attempt to heal the loss, Gloria had a litter of seven black and white kittens. Two of them look exactly like Claire.

At a small church in Stayton, I had made a few friends. They have a weekly youth group, which I attended for several months. One evening the two guys that organize the thing invited me to watch Jim race at Willamette Speedway. I was uneasy about it, especially since we would be down in the pit with the mechanics, rather than up in the stands. But with some convincing, I decided to go for it.

As it turned out, I had a great time. It was fun to watch the cars fly by only a few yards away, and watch the track for accidents. Yes, I'm sorry to say, accidents are a highlight at small town races. Some car would get over-eager and nip someone's fender, throwing both cars out of balance. Spinning out of control, sometimes they would grind into the wall or other cars.

Immediately, lights would go from green to yellow, and all the cars were forced into a cruising time-out while tow-trucks dragged the wrecked cars back to the pit for repairs. Then the lights would return to green and with the thunderous roar of engines the race would be on again.

I spent the 4th of July with the same friends, and we hit two barbecues that evening after volunteering at a TNT fireworks booth. I had always dreamed of seeing a major fireworks show from beneath, rather than watching from the road with binoculars. Not that it's not fun to gather a group of people and watch the show from a hilltop, seeing how many shows you can see in the valley (5 at one time being our all time record), but there's something alluring about being directly underneath.

This year I finally got my wish. I was only a few blocks from the high school where they were setting them off. There was a touch of disappointment, I admit, since it's not as huge as it looks from a distance, but the group I was with made up for that.

Magnus came to visit on the 16th. We had been chatting online for over a year on ICQ, and he was the only person outside North America on my contact list. When he crossed the ocean to visit friends in Ohio, he offered to visit me.

We had enjoyed writing stories together, encouraging each other to finish at least one. Neither of us had accomplished this, though we had fun teasing about our unfinished work. Now we were actually going to meet in person, and that was an unnerving prospect. Not that I had any fear of him, particularly. In fact, I was delighted at the idea of actually meeting him. But most of the people I talked to were horrified that I would consider allowing an internet friend to visit me, especially one from so distant a place as Sweden.

The day I went to meet him at the airport, I didn't allow doubt to cloud the occasion. Magnus had packed lightly and was standing quietly in the grass out front with a backpack at his feet. I hurried up behind him and introduced myself.

All my fears disappeared the moment we started talking. Being that shyness is rarely a problem for me, conversation was easy. I grinned to myself as I realized that if worse came to worse, as far as communication, we could sit down at the computer and type out our conversations. As it turned out, Magnus' English was excellent. In fact, his grammar was better and vocabulary noticeably richer than mine.

It's an interesting feeling to meet someone with whom you've had numerous conversations, but never met in person. You have to get to know the person all over again, and yet at the same time you recognize a thousand things that you saw in them when you talked to their soul, online.

The first meal he shared at my parents' table would have given anyone indigestion. The neighbors were over for dinner. John chose to bring up the subject of gun control, which he argued against vehemently. Magnus listened wide eyed before engaging in the discussion. Apparently, guns have already been banished from Sweden, and Magnus was as strongly opinionated about it as John was against it.

I wanted to crawl under the table. I feared that Magnus would repack his bags and take the next flight back to Ohio. The discussion was getting hotter, and my Dad joined in with fervor. The women at the table tried to soften the subject by tossing in a diplomatic word here and there, but little good did it do.

Magnus didn't pack up and leave, however. He weathered the evening beautifully, and I had to admire his courage and patience.

During his two week stay, he got the grand tour of Oregon and Seattle. We started by having a friend, David, drive us over to Central Oregon. There we visited my friends who live on a ranch and allowed us to ride horses, swim in the reservoir and look through a telescope.

Magnus was a natural on a horse. He put on a hat and turned into a tall, handsome cowboy. And old Snip was a perfect gentleman, never trying to scrape him off on fences or trees, and posing willingly for pictures.

All too soon the visit was over, and we needed to head home. Alicia came with us when we left. I told her we were planning to hike that weekend, and would she like to come? It didn't take much coaxing, and soon we were taking the scenic way home, by way of Crater Lake.

The sky was blue the morning we left Summer Lake. Only a few fluffy clouds scudded by. With several hours of close quarters in a very small car with three other people, I hoped things would go smoothly. As it turned out, to my relief, we all hit it off great.

Magnus and Alicia had more in common than they guessed. We all enjoyed reading books, particularly science fiction/fantasy. We all loved computers, but none of us were geeks. All of us held similar ideals, though different enough for some interesting discussions. And Magnus could hold his own when it came to StarWars.

Ruth, Alicia's sister and a close friend of mine, had printed up a map for us. When we reached I 97, the map directed us to turn left. We were well on the way to Fort Klamath before we became suspicious. We hadn't seen the Diamond Lake Junction yet, and were starting to worry. At a rest stop, we asked if we were on the road to Crater Lake. The person David approached said we needed to go the other way. As it turned out, the map had steered us wrong and had sent us in the wrong direction, or more accurately, had sent us the long way around.

Crater Lake is an unbelievable phenomenon, and amazingly enough, few people really know about it. It is a huge lake in the bottom of an ancient volcano, all that remains of Mount Mazama. Even from the parking lot, as we got out of the car, we knew this place was special. We didn't waste any time hitting the trail. We hiked up along the rim and took in some absolutely fantastic views. It made us dizzy, all the vivid colors and breathtaking heights. The water was the truest blue possible, while the lush forests surrounding the mountain were a powerful green. It felt like someone had raised the color saturation about 25%.

Magnus noted in awe that he didn't realize places like this existed on earth. It was exhilarating to stand on the edge of the rim and let the wind blow through our hair. Both Magnus and Alicia snapped pictures at every turn, never getting enough of those breathtaking views.

The drive from there was peaceful. In Oakridge we stopped at a restaurant and had the world's worst meal, and I was glad I wasn't very hungry. By the time we reached home, we were all exhausted.

We were up again at daybreak, ready for another hike Saturday morning. We got a group together and hiked up Saddle Mountain, just outside Astoria and not far from the coast. The trail was steep, but we made good time. It threatened to rain on us several times, but never did.

It was three miles to the top on steep switchbacks. A group of boy scouts scrambled up the trail with us, and it was fun to watch them. There seemed to be no end to their bubbling energy, and the scout leaders had their hands full.

Unfortunately, it was clouded over at the top, and we weren't able to see anything but swirling fog. It gave the experience a dreamy feeling, but I later learned that the view could have been magnificent from the top. You can see the town of Astoria, the mouth of  the Columbia River, and waves breaking on the beach.

After having cold lunch of bread, cheese and apples, we hopped back in the jeep and struck out toward the coast. On the way, we went to view the world's largest Spruce tree. We then toured Tillamook Cheese Factory and finally splashed in the Pacific Ocean.

As the afternoon warmed up, the clouds burned off and the sun came out. It ended up being glorious weather at the coast. We ran up and down the beach, writing our names in the sand and splashing through the waves.

The day was gone before we knew it, and as a final flourish to an absolutely beautiful day, we watched the sunset from proposal rock.

On Sunday we were up and running again. We hiked Silver Creek Falls which consists of 10 waterfalls in 7 miles. If we didn't have blisters before, we had them after that. We took our time and enjoyed the view, and even waded in the water at one of the falls. We lunched by the creek with Subway sandwiches and watermelon, but found we'd brought too much food. So David handed out the leftover watermelon by slices to passerbys.

When we returned to the busy parking lot, I was shocked to see that we had left the driver door wide open. People were everywhere, and it seemed amazing that nothing had been stolen. We figured it looked too much like a trap, or that the owner would return momentarily. For whatever reasons, the car had been left undisturbed.

The three of us had become pretty good friends by this time, and it was difficult letting Alicia leave for home Monday morning. We stayed up all night Sunday, only getting two hours of sleep. We talked about a thousand things, and in the end tried to freak Magnus out by discussing all the real-life psycho's that had drifted in and out of our lives, but he refused to be intimidated.

After seeing her off on the bus early the next morning, Magnus and I stopped by an oriental store in Salem. He had offered to make sushi for dinner, and show my mom and I how to make it. It was challenging to find all the ingredients, but with a little patience we gathered the necessary items. Out of consideration for our undeveloped taste for raw fish, Magnus made the sushi with imitation crab meat. It was delightful, and we were thrilled.

Mom wrote down the recipe, and promised we'd make it again. Especially since it was such a hit at the dinner table. Admittedly, sushi is a lot of work. But it was well worth it.

The next stop was Seattle. I arranged to take the Amtrak from Salem, and Tuesday morning we were on the train. Magnus and I had several hours to talk and discuss the events of the past week. It was a restful ride, and we both dozed part of the time.

In Seattle we hit all the major tourist attractions, including the Space Needle, the Pacific Science Center, the Underground City and Pike Street Market. And as some say, you haven't traveled America until you've ridden the Greyhound. So we did that too.

It was difficult to say goodbye after spending so much time together, but Magnus had to fly back to Ohio on the 28th. Saying goodbye is something you don't want to think much about, so we made it a quick "fare thee well."

It only took a few minutes for the flood of "I shoulda's" to set in. Why is it we always want to go back and rewrite the past? You sit there and wish you had said more, or done something cute, or been more poetic. Actually, it's a really good thing we can't go back, because I'd never be satisfied and I'd be stuck on certain days forever. And think how jammed the world would be if all of us perfectionists were capable of going back and perfecting events! The world would come to a standstill, waiting for us to work over every minute detail. 

After returning from Seattle, I didn't unpack immediately. I rested and allowed the laundry to build up a bit. You know, one day I got up and looked around, and I tell you, a tornado must have swept through that room. That's the only explanation I can think of!

So, obviously, I'll be spending the next few days on laundry and housework. An abrupt change of pace from what I've become accustomed to over the last few weeks. But I suppose a rest would be welcome.

Oh wait, I'm not supposed to be resting! This weekend I have two hikes planned, back to back. I wonder if my feet have healed enough?!

Until next time,

~Lady Brooke~