Where in Oakland...: Day 19. Naps Naps and more Naps

Intro

Welcome to a story, or stories I should say. A compilation of adventure tales. An ongoing itch to see, smell, and touch the world, or at least the deserted roads and rarely trampled mountains of America. Characters within the descriptive paragraphs of these stories carve out the coming and going companions in life; vital life people and pieces that parallel a universe for moments, days, years. And then spear off, leaving granules of magnificent memories of magical places. They leave a lasting trace, a gained sense of courage to stand tall on oxygen deprived mountains and shout absurdities like: I love you Ralph! Ralph is a teenage reindeer stuffed of the finest synthetic polyester fiber poof; he says made in Indonesia but really tells me he is from the North Pole. Delivered through a chimney one December night 20 years ago, we instantly became cuddle buddies upon that morning's sunrise. He is the instigator. The inspiration. And the imagination. He breathes creativity. Laughter. His is a dear companion. And yes, at 4lbs he tags along atop a pack or strapped to a rack. In delirium of 107 degree heat, the small possession of material belongings gain a persona. Innate objects become friends of the road and trails. And as for the humans who accompany, their presence reads priceless. Without O'Reilly, a 29 year old New Hampshirian with superior taste buds, the mathematical six foot four inch tall German, or handful of organic peanut butter and 99 cent jam eating munchkins, there would be a lot less excitement. The encounters we make with our specie, encapsulating the world with their awkward ways and over consumerist love, somehow we have managed to become overly adored creatures. Their generous hearts restore a faith that goodness prevails in the upheaval of a sometimes lost humanity. As for myself, I'm just the navigator, paddling up the stream of life munching on Clif Bars, with an iPhone documenting the frailties and goodies underneath all the simplified complexities in the world we reside. So again, I welcome you to get lost and dream a little through this typed text and your imagination. My name is Kristen Gentilucci. I live in Berkeley California and I love dogs.

Friday, August 1, 2014

Day 19. Naps Naps and more Naps

Miles: 0!

Heaven presented itself on a gold platter all day. As though we had just hiked the whole Pacific Crest Trail from Mexico to Canada in a mere 24 hours, relaxation turned muscles to instant potato mush. Morning was greeted with more tree ripe cherries, plucked from the orchard by Mrs. Dean herself. As coffee was served, a white mystery package arrived, carefully labeled from the boy's grand ranch home in New Hampshire. A week after the devastating incident at the post office, the Congo bars had arrived. They were padded for crumble protection around 15lbs of scones, pure maple syrup, chocolate of everything, granola, chef grade rice, and homemade bars and jam. The spectrum of homey carbness nearly collapsed the table and eyes popped in awe at the miraculousness of moms. Talk about true love. Hearts sang.

By 5 pm we had napped eaten napped and eaten again, stocked up on floss, bars, and bug spray. Paced isles of the sports store analyzing a million varieties of bear spray and drooling over derringers. The heat caged us in and we cleaned Mrs. Deans house, read, wrote, putzed around to couch bed and back to the couch, ADD(ally) watched The Sandlot like Kevin McAlister in home alone, fell asleep hours before the sun set, and planned to reach Glacier Nartional Park by am sunrise. Hopefully just in time to buy a bag of trail mix and sit on the free shuttle bus, exercise free, like watching a movie, soaking up one more day of leisure before the mountains of Canada made the Rockies look like any hills.

No photos for today; enjoy the secret stash.

The Wild Wild West Saloon: