When summer finally arrives in the Pacific Northwest, you want to embrace it.
And that means taking every opportunity to go out of your way to go out of your way.
Efficiency is once again revealed as an overrated virtue and when the ride goes the long way around to a spot you could have arrived at much more quickly by taking the more direct Shaddup Joe-preferred route, you realize that you’re glad to have pedaled through probably the most familiar of all familiar routes, the one upon which your very existence in this plane of existence depends—albeit in a state of mind of mind that you never go this way in.
It counts as success to get in the water before the festivities even start and if you can follow that up with yet another dunk in the drink, then you’re playing with house money as they say.
That your entry into the wet entails launching yourself tits over teakettle into the dihydrogen monoxide and precludes a broken neck, even for those youngsters who seemed determined to ingnore the paternalistic rules posted prominently on the danger zone, means that even the invisible magicians were on your side, as well.
When you know you’ve got to early-to-rise it in order to create one-of-a-kind enrichment experiences for the progeny of the ambitious, it does cut into the buzz a little bit and you’re apt to depart early, (although less early than would be the case if you didn’t forget to forget your aquatic attire and have to ride back to scoop it up off the ground), but even give the constraints of common sense, you can nevertheless, enjoy an uncommonly good time under the long-lasting light of summer above the 47th parallel north.
Not everything has to be everything and in many cases, even what is is less than it could be; but even so, it’s plenty plentiful, so let’s dive right on in, the water’s fine.
And that means taking every opportunity to go out of your way to go out of your way.
Efficiency is once again revealed as an overrated virtue and when the ride goes the long way around to a spot you could have arrived at much more quickly by taking the more direct Shaddup Joe-preferred route, you realize that you’re glad to have pedaled through probably the most familiar of all familiar routes, the one upon which your very existence in this plane of existence depends—albeit in a state of mind of mind that you never go this way in.
It counts as success to get in the water before the festivities even start and if you can follow that up with yet another dunk in the drink, then you’re playing with house money as they say.
That your entry into the wet entails launching yourself tits over teakettle into the dihydrogen monoxide and precludes a broken neck, even for those youngsters who seemed determined to ingnore the paternalistic rules posted prominently on the danger zone, means that even the invisible magicians were on your side, as well.
When you know you’ve got to early-to-rise it in order to create one-of-a-kind enrichment experiences for the progeny of the ambitious, it does cut into the buzz a little bit and you’re apt to depart early, (although less early than would be the case if you didn’t forget to forget your aquatic attire and have to ride back to scoop it up off the ground), but even give the constraints of common sense, you can nevertheless, enjoy an uncommonly good time under the long-lasting light of summer above the 47th parallel north.
Not everything has to be everything and in many cases, even what is is less than it could be; but even so, it’s plenty plentiful, so let’s dive right on in, the water’s fine.
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