It's hot!

Much more skin paraded on the streets and zoomed-in views of the mountains, especially Rainier which sat on the lake exposing its girth and cloven masculinity.

Yesterday I walked to work along 12th to Jackson behind a young man in snug dark denim with the cuffs turned up. The stiff denim creased right left right left at his thighs in a restrained, smallish gait, which I followed and gained on. When I caught up it became awkward (he looking over his shoulder and probably close enough to hear the music in my ears). I apologized for tailing him and explained that I appeared to be walking slightly faster but not fast enough to pass him outright. He smiled and said it was OK and walked on, right left right left, on and on, and I dropped behind and stayed there counting 1, 2, 1, 2, smiling at the fortune of summer, the bombastic mountain and this funny little dance going on between this stranger and me.

Then I noticed his backpack, an understated North Face with mesh outside pockets (one holding his silver cell phone) and elastic cording braided down the back for securing who-knows-what. I liked it and decided right there I'd get one and not a shoulder bag because I'm really not the shoulder bag type.

Having decided this made me very happy so I passed the boy and when I got to work visited North Face online, where even better packs were available for order.

Instead I held out for a visit to REI today. (I work from home on Wednesdays, which is really like having the day off.) I was at the store at ten when it opened. A sale is on and I thought I could get the pack less expensively than at North Face, although I would've felt better making the purchase from North Face directly.

I'm not even going to write about the shopping experience. Just take my advice and avoid the store. Don't waste your precious time with REI employees who have neither the time nor the talent to help you.

It wasn't always like this. If you're from Seattle you'll remember when REI was the local climbing store and the people who worked there were the people on ski patrol or who tested the gear or who knew the backcountry like their own backyard.

These folks are still around, but they've gone to the independent shops, which is where you should go too. Find your local climbing or biking shop and develop a relationship with a real enthusiast passionate about the outdoors and possessing intimate knowledge of it.

I bought the pack delightfully discounted by my dividend check and a 20-percent-off coupon, but I didn't get to take it home with me because they didn't have one in the store. They're sending it to me by UPS. The last time this happened, they sent me two of the product and charged me twice.

I tried to buy a bike rack for the car for the road trip I'm taking at the end of June, but that package of items was also unavailable.

And by the time I got home it was time for me to go lift so I put on my workout clothes and stepped out into the molten air and jogged the route to the gym, lifted, and then decided to jog back. I didn't know if I could do it—jog the return trip. I couldn't imagine myself taking that first step when already fatigued from the run in and the lifting and jogging inside. But when it was time and the little white guy lit up across the intersection from me, I lifted a foot and took the hop.