10/30/20 – Pretending Hawaii

When I woke up this morning, I should have been in Hawaii. The close but failed attempt left me at home. What’s an optimist to do? What I’d planned to do in Hawaii was:

1. Ride my bike every day
2. Finish the book I’d been working on for nearly a year 
3. Meet with my publishing agent in Honolulu

I also planned to eat lots of fresh fruit, do yoga in the early morning sun, relax, catch up on my reading, and watch the election results to see if Sunride made any difference.

Well, I thought, I can still do all that, except with more clothes. I can ride my bike around Portland. Instead of tank tops and flip flops I’d be wearing sweaters and wool socks. I could in fact finish writing my book if I got away from the phone and all distractions. I need a proper place to write, a place of solitude where I can focus completely on the story. Earnest Hemmingway did this. He had a private place, an out building in back of his home in Key West where he’d go to write a few hours every day. My private place would be my shop. I have an office in the back, with floor to ceiling opaque glass windows for passive solar gain. I have a bed, a bathroom, a refrigerator, a microwave. It has all the amenities of the condo I’d rented in Hawaii, except a 40-degree difference in temperature. That’s okay. My man cave would do nicely as a sanctuary for writing. I’m sure Earnest would nod his approval. 

 I went to the store and bought pineapple, bananas, and other tropical fruits. Instead of doing yoga on the beach, I could do my stretches in front of the opaque glass, in my speedo if I wanted. Instead of meeting my agent in person, we could zoom, or reschedule the meeting for when I’ve finished the book, which I fully plan to do during this time. 

I gathered up my reading, packed a bag of warm clothes, kissed my wife good-by, and headed across the river. On the way I filled my growlers (yes, plural). Hemmingway ended his day at Sloppy Joe’s Bar, a short walk down the street from his home. Mine would be a short walk across the room.

It’s been sunny a lot around here lately. I love riding my bike in the sun. It puts the same contented smile on my face no matter where I am. Today, biking along the Willamette Riverfront, past the Canada geese, I found myself singing:

“I’m riding on sunshine, oh yeah,

 I’m riding on sunshine, uh huh,

 I’m riding on sunshine, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah,

 And I feel fine, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, 

 And I feel fine.” 

Oh, and what about the election? I’ll keep my growlers full for that.