On the Edge of Suburbia

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Where suburbia comes to an abrupt end.

I came of age on the edge of suburbia, where cookie-cutter housing projects end and the surrounding countryside begins. Decades later, again I find myself perched on the edge, further west than when I was young but still at the very end of one little patch of sprawl.

Lost Among The Multitudes

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A lost cat poster on a mailbox in .

I wonder how many cats are lost every day? Certainly this number cannot be insignificant, for it is something almost every cat owner must address at one point or another. I have personally been involved in the search for lost cats on at least five occasions—and have probably made posters of my own at least three times. This particular poster up on the mountain in caught my eye for whatever reason—the unusually bold design, the melancholic appearance of raindrops on the plastic cover, or perhaps the forlorn look of the potentially doomed feline, its indeterminate fate depending on chance and circumstance. And are we not all lost as well? Put up a poster for yourself.

To the falls and back again

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I worked through Harvest instead of reveling in the end of festival season. As a kind of consolation prize, after working for nearly ten days straight, I set out to explore my own country the way I explored : with a long, multi-day bike trip. I have family in that I had been meaning to visit anyway—and looked tantalizingly close but still challenging enough to make it a worthwhile ride. And that’s exactly where I ended up! It’s a tacky tourist town, more like Canada’s Tijuana than its Las Vegas, but the falls are truly spectacular and I felt a deep sense of accomplishment for having endured the boring ride there. Hopefully I’ll get around to blogging the trip in earnest—but for now I just wanted to jot down a placeholder to note to say I made it there and back!