It is pre-jam season again. While making my pre-jam sandwich for breakfast I was reminded of a slightly rambly e-mail I once wrote in regards to an invitation to join some friends on a bike ride out to a bonfire (with sleepover) in New Westminster. I think there was some question about the ease of the route.
This is the e-mail I wrote back in March of last year.
I have solo cycled to new west for dinner with friends on several occasions. There is always a maze of construction that starts somewhere around gilmore +/- 1 km during which all bike paths become elusive. When it is raining or foggy I get lost at this point. Actually I get lost at this point even when it is not raining or foggy. Okay, fine… I have never managed to actually go the same way twice. I am pretty sure I have experienced every piece of up hill between here and new west. If it is really foggy, the up hills connect and there are no down hills. Ever. It makes for a spooky adventure. Also, when it is really foggy, and you are desperately looking for landmarks, there are startling and scary way points to behold. For example, “Langley Foods” and “Richmond Park” have on occasion stirred a bit of panic in my tender heart as my mind races furiously trying to assemble this puzzle into a map that might tell me where I am. I have since learned they are IN new west. They have no place in city of new west as far as I am concerned. Mighty unkind names. Bonfires are pretty good. They are probably one of my favourite things. I also really like blueberry jam. Too many jams have sugar added. That bugs me a bit. Sometimes enough to not have the jam. But usually if there is really good peanut butter around my desire for pb&j overrides my disdain for the extra sugar in the jam. Isn’t it weird how blueberries aren’t blue inside? They are kind of translucent white. But there is so much blue in the skin that it makes the jam blue or purple and it can also stain up your hands. Totally worth it though: blueberry stained hands from picking and eating them fresh. Yum. Fresh blueberries are also really good on a peanut butter sandwich. They don’t need to be in jam. It is just sort of pre-jam. Blueberry pre-jam. No sugar added. And peanut butter. Double yum. Once I arrive in new west, I like to have a beer to congratulate myself for surviving the mysterious unknown of the fog. Unless it wasn’t foggy. Then I have a beer and think about how I managed to get lost even though it wasn’t foggy. I usually blame the construction. Or the person I was following because it can be fun to see where they lead you. It has occurred to me that this particular style of adventure could be misconstrued as stalking if not for the setting being a marked cycle route during commute time. Sometimes I wonder if the person in front of me wonders if they are being followed. It sure is tough to find someone who is going to the same place I am when all I know about them is what their back wheel looks like. I sometimes tell myself I might be learning a short cut. It usually isn’t a short cut for me. I turn a different direction than them if they go a way I really really don’t want to go or if they go into a driveway. I think I will bring a beer to the bonfire.
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Pure Kerouacian. He wrote, I’m told, on one long roll of paper. Can YOU do that? (I think you already do).
And here I was assuming that the days of blotter acid were long gone.
I have to say, btw, that ‘breakfast’ looks suspiciously like something the cat left on the rug. I’m just sayin’.
the cat, or the kitty?