I defy anyone to buy an American made pair of hiking boots at a retail store. It can’t be done. Seriously. And I’m talking about North American – not just the U.S. They just don’t exist! About 99% of hiking boots are made in China these days and I hope the irony of enjoying the countryside while the shipping of your shoes helped pollute the Earth doesn’t escape anyone. But I told Vicky I wasn’t going to falter; I will find shoes made (relatively) locally… eventually. It’s all about using the Internet and using the phone… or so I’m hoping. Last weekend, I spent hours walking through South Coast Plaza and its many offshoots to find shoes. Not finding them didn’t mean it was a waste of time; think of the exercise!
Anyway, this entry is going to be a bit scattered. That’s just how my life has been.
I did go hiking on Sunday, wearing my old boots. My old boots were made in Hungary, by the way, which still means they were shipped from overseas. On the plus side, I’ve had them for about a decade, so I figure I’ve gotten some use out of them. The best part of my search is when I talk to people in the stores. Pretty much all of them think you should buy local… they just can’t sell me anything local. Oh well.
Hey, if I’m on a one-man journey to help enlighten a world with nearly seven billion people, if I’m tilting at windmills, well… I figure there are worst ways to spend your time.
Anyway, I did go hiking on Sunday, out to the San Juan Loop Trail. It’s a small, beginner’s trail I’ve done many times, with others and alone. I figured it would be a good way to start out. The nice thing about this trail used to be the waterfalls you passed and the creek you hiked beside. But drought conditions down here are so bad that there’s no longer any water. The waterfalls are just rocky outcrops and the creek is just a dirty trail. I took pictures to post… but I realized I couldn’t. It would be like posting pictures of my raped mother. No thanks. I prefer to remember the beauty of what was. The land I hiked through Sunday morning was dry and barren, a tinder box just waiting to go up. Very sad.
Vicky and I went out to breakfast when I returned home. We’ve been eating out a little too much lately. Sunday morning, we returned to Polly’s Pies and I think I have Vicky hooked. She likes it. They serve this enormous cinnamon roll with breakfast as an alternative to toast and I’ll take that! It’s all cinnamonie and sweet and yummmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm… Last night, we hit Kings Fish House, which is just fucking terrific if you have one near you. My god. We got some sweet sushi, some terrific beer, and a blackened catfish that was nearly perfect (not spicy enough, though). Me likey.
Too bad my whole night couldn’t have been like that.
I honestly try to remember that life is not all peaches and cream. That you have to take the good with the bad. Yin/Yang. Sweet/Sour. Ice Cream/Turpentine.
Where was I?
My dad’s health is not really improving and I just found out yesterday that two people I know may have cancer. One of those people is Blanche, who I feel closer to than my own parents. So, my breath stopped when I heard that. I’m dealing with the possibility of my dad dying but I don’t know what I’d do…
Thus the name of this blog entry. Because, in addition to everything else, there’s school and withdrawal pains I’m having after just a few days of not writing and our approaching anniversary and our trip to Cabo (which is approaching but FAR TOO SLOWLY!) – and that’s life. It’s three dimensional. It comes at you from all sides.