In Helena, where if I where if I were blogging about bunnies or deer, or even something as specific as "fawns with white spots without their mothers running down even numbered streets" I would have better luck than with readers. Helena is large, spread out, tranquil and, while walking from my grandparents house back home after dinner at 8pm on Friday night, we didn't see a single person for a mile. Here's a deer munching on the apricots from my mom's trees.
At home I did laundry, shocked the next morning that it dried on the clothesline overnight, as I'm used to foggy San Francisco and using the dryers at the laundromat. Am also trying to pairing things down and think smart about what kind of clothes I'll want to be wearing. It's the same kind of thinking I did before heading into the Haut Pyrenees, the high part of the Pyrenees mountain range that runs the length of the French/Spanish border:
Get rid of the jeans and leather purse with the broken zipper, I won’t need them where it’s hot and muggy. Replace with skirt or culottes and lightweight bag that will hold laptop so that I can carry it around when I put my bag in storage. Send back extra contact lenses—I only need one pair. Consolidate vitamins into one bottle. Do not take with me clothes my mother offers me.
I also tried, without much progress to map out the route so that I can find out if this journey of 48 states is possible. It makes me feel good when people say, “Oh, you’ve only just begun!” It’s like, when I’d be hiking down the trail in France and people would say things like “bon soir” instead of “bonjour” and I’d get worried, rethinking whether I'd have time to make it to a camping site. But, I am still in the "bonjour" portion of my journey. I may not make it to all 48 states but I have plenty of time left to soak up as much as I can.
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