Why I really should remember to change my oil before a long drive

I don't think about it much, well, okay I do think about it much, but San Francisco is kind of far away. Not that far, but far enough that I should probably check my oil before i drive. Right, I know, truly I am like Einstein and can barely remember to wear socks, but hey, at least it is like Einstein. But I should really check my oil.  Maybe even change it.  Damn you miniserve-- I forget because I don't have to get out of the car at gas stations anymore-- my routine is off. Anyhow, it's sort of nerve-wracking to be driving through the balls to the wall hot Sacramento valley with no rest stops for the next 1000000 miles (roughly until you hit a near earth orbiting object) and thinking, well, I am not sure if my car will make it, and if I turn on the air, I am really not sure if the car will make it, but at this heat I am not sure if I will make it. Hmmm... to dehydrate or to explode. The choices are yours and yours alone (and if you make it through the hidden temple than on the other side you could win this great prize! <-- Nickelodeon, anyone?)

Of course, I made it and notably just past Medford the temperature went from a "I think I might die" about 100 degrees to a nice 73 degrees.  And in Corvallis it was in the mid-60's, as usual. I woke up yesterday feeling like death and wondering why I couldn't cool off even though it was only 58 degrees in the morning time.  Fan-vestment made this much better as well as drinking about 10000 liters of water.  

I woke this morning will all my windows open thinking, well, FINALLY the temperature feels just about right. Come to check the thermometer and it's 43 outside! How wonderful! Clearly I have acclimated to cool weather just in time for summer, right?  Running through the farms in North Corvallis among the fertile grasslands and feeling tempted to pick random blueberries and strawberries along the way, I was (although I do love California) glad to be "home."  I think maybe I've just got a little bit of mountains in my soul or something. There's something about all the greenery and the cool, fresh air that really just makes me feel like I am in-synch with the world. And I don't mean that like the teeny-bopper band from 1995.  I mean, it is just so nice to feel "cool" when I step outside, and to see the maritime layer slowly drifting overhead towards the Cascades, knowing that I'll have this beautiful, spotted sky morning and an afternoon drizzle, and a sunset that would 18th century poets jealous. I am sure that if I have to fully acclimate to CA at some point in my life it will not be the end of the world, and I can certainly see myself adjusting to having to see the ocean every day, but there's just something about green hills and mountains that makes me feel happy and alpine. It's like I'm back in Germany again... 

I have this song in my head, which is by David Crowder Band, called "glorious."  I was thinking of it as I ran along in the farms, because it's sort of a great chorus to the West in reference to it's nature.  It's kind of dumb and just a series of 3rd grade rhymes, but I like it: 

"The day is brighter here with you, the night is lighter than its hue, which leads me to believe... which leads me to believe... you make everything glorious, you make everything glorious..." 

You know, the woods and the grasslands are nice no matter where you are (even SC, it is nice to be up in the woods or out in the meadows, or at least, preferable to not being in them), but out here it's just so much more extreme.  And in Brisbane, on San Bruno mountain, running through the dry oats and by the mystery-holly, it is the same-- well, it's different because you are in massive pain from the hill, but overall you are happy... your skin just feels better... that may sound stupid.  But it's true, you know, and when it's nighttime and it should be terrifying, like in SC, it's not really... it's just sort of peaceful. Here and in Brisbane.  Here and in everywhere I've been out here. I feel like the night is what it is supposed to be here, not scary, but restful.  "A great, warm curtain goes around everything-- has always been there, will always remain."  Did I mention William Stafford is from Portland?  And that his family is involved with the Andrews writers project?  And am I even the slightest bit surprised to find this out? ... :) 

My windows are open and I am drinking about a pound of frozen marionberries and blueberries from a nearby farm blended into the best local and organic smoothie known to mankind. It's about 50 degrees out. I am chatting with a GIS person from OSU via email about the best way to set up transects.  I can hear (although I can't identify) a bunch of birds outside. I mean, this is my job! Talk about the landscape, be in the landscape, learn more and more. I never thought growing up that I could just be sort of happy where I am and who I am.... but I think this is it.