halfway normal

I did something today that I haven't done for a long time: I dropped off into an unforeseen afternoon nap. It lasted only about an hour, but when I woke up I saw that it was 2:20PM.

I'd had an excellent breakfast conversation with my host Bob (again, dammit, no recording to show for it), after which I took my sweet time getting ready for the day: morning bathroom ritual, laundry, first of many email checks. Somehow, a little after 1:15PM, I ended up on the bed, leafing through cyberspace on the BlackBerry... and woke up to find myself transported forward in time to 2:20PM. A sudden pressure told me that it was time for another consultation with the porcelain oracle. Bob had alerted me to the fact that the hardcover version of Anthony Bourdain's No Reservations was there on the toilet tank, which is how I found myself on the throne, flipping fascinatedly through the pages long after it was time to arise and walk. But I was hooked: with my hemorrhoids gently brushing the surface of the toilet water, I pored over the book-- which is mostly a photo compilation-- and enviously wished for some of Bourdain's writerly mojo to waft into me.

By the time I was downstairs and about to leave for campus, the long-promised visit from the house's true owners was under way: I met Rob, who was repairing the garage door along with my host Bob ("I'm supervising"). Rob extended a beefy, powerful hand and shook mine; for whatever reason, I've never been very good at handshakes, and some guys tend to crush my fingers before I've had a chance to secure a decent grip for the gesture. Sorry, Rob; I'm the bowing type.

Rob's better half, Jeanie, wasn't there at that moment; she was out somewhere (with their son?) and was walking back to the house. I felt bad about leaving; according to Rob, the idea to allow me to stay at their house was "all Jeanie." In retrospect, I think I should have stuck around a few more minutes to thank my benefactress, but I was already late and feeling the pressure of a mountain of work.

Today, I decided to take the final step of weaning myself away from all the props. I had stopped the painkillers last week after some unsettling bleeding episodes; a few days later I had dropped the leg brace; the time had finally come for me to leave the trekking pole behind. I'm happy to report that the walk to campus today went just fine, pain-free, despite the added distance that came from making a few wrong turns early on. Bob's/Rob's house is about a mile away from Mechelle's, so I'm re-learning the route to campus. In truth, the new place is closer to campus than Mechelle's, but I equalized the distance by getting lost. Won't happen tomorrow.

So I'm about halfway normal again. I've got another nine or so days to get back to a point where I can walk ten miles or more without pain; I need to factor those walks into my schedule. Tomorrow, I might start the morning off by earning some money doing some weeding (long-time readers will recall that I did this at my very first stop in the US, in Blaine, WA); I still owe Mechelle a slice of her rent (plus a little pizza money).

Tomorrow, a FedEx package is arriving from Dad: Photoshop Elements! If you're in the market for some sort of design, or just want to see yourself handling a lightsaber or shooting lightning bolts at Obama/Biden or McCain/Palin), I'm your man. I can even make the design into a tee shirt for you.

In other news: Alan wrote me with an interesting employment opportunity for when I settle into Boise: standardized test evaluator, a job that only requires a computer and a brain. The hitch: for security reasons, people who evaluate student work (e.g., scoring essays for the SAT or TOEFL) need to have a physical hookup, not WiFi, and cannot move around. This probably means I'd need to rent a space (will likely need an address), get a contract for Internet service from whichever companies service Boise, and stay put. I'll probably want to stay put as the weather gets colder, and I'm sure my knee will be screaming again after the roughly 260-mile trek down there.

So I need to get cracking on research:

(1) I have to find a place in Boise where I can stay for about four months, paying little or no rent. To that end, Alan will be re-tooling the CouchSurfing message he broadcasts to potential hosts, and I plan to talk with Mom about whatever Korean community might be out that way (surely there have to be some Koreans in Boise, ja?).

(2) I need to find out what service providers exist in Boise, what the setup fees and monthly rates are, and most important, whether it's possible to get a service contract for less than one year. I suspect I might have to bite the bullet on this one, paying for a year, then paying a penalty for early withdrawal from the contract (or receiving only a partial refund for withdrawal).

Assuming I secure the above two things sometime before I reach Boise, obtaining the test evaluator position ought to be easy (UPDATE: "Don't count your chickens before they hatch," writes Alan). Grading papers isn't anyone's idea of a pleasant way to spend one's day, but the nice thing about it is that it doesn't require you to flex your knee thousands of times.

Along with the above, I need to take some time to stare hard at the route ahead and plan where Dad and I are going to stop. It would be mighty awkward-- not to mention dangerous-- to spend the night parked on the freeway's shoulder. Spending the night in a town's or city's parking lot also poses certain risks, so CouchSurfing might still be relevant to the upcoming Walla Walla-Boise sprint.

It may, at points, come down to finding little turnoffs not on any map. While walking along I-84, I saw plenty of those: spots where, for example, the driver of a maintenance vehicle might safely pull off the freeway for a snooze. It might be advisable for Dad to scout ahead while I'm hiking, and to call back when he finds a satisfactory spot. Parking in such places has one special advantage: it's cheaper than parking in a town, where we might feel obliged to spend the night in a motel.

It occurs to me that one possible in-town solution (aside from finding a CouchSurfing host) would be to call up a church and ask permission to park in their parking lot for the night. I suppose the only real awkwardness here would be the shit/shower/shave situation in the morning; I doubt the congregation would take kindly to finding us performing our morning constitutionals on their well-manicured lawn.

Much to think over; much to discuss.

Right-- back to transcription.


_