Suzanne Cheavens, Mountainfreak magazine

Suzanne Cheavens is the senior editor of Mountainfreak magazine, based in Telluride, Colo.

Humpday. Everyday is humpday when you're working on changing the consciousness of the world.

Today it's warm. Too warm. No gloves, no hat, jacket open. The weather is strange, and it has got me paying attention. The balmy temps will make my midday cross-country ski most enjoyable, however.

What's on my desk today? I have to proof the updated wholesale goods flyer, go through a few queries, call the local daily with a story idea (I freelance for them and write a column, too), finish the intro to the Spring 2000 issue, go over some cutlines with Brett, and attend a staff meeting.

I promised Grist Magazine diary fans an explanation of freak. One of our contributors is a gifted linguist and delved into the meaning of the word. Starting with Old English, freak meant bold, and from there evolved into fresh, lively, eager, lustful, playful. As a verb, the word means, "to adopt a wildly unconventional lifestyle." Most of you are familiar with the usage of freak as a description of someone who is really into something. Chocolate freak, NASCAR freak, crossword freak, etc. Michael Franti of Spearhead says we are all freaks on the inside, and I would have to agree.

A writer from Outside magazine spent a week with us in October and asked each of us what made us freaks. That I am a freak is obvious to me but explaining it to a relative stranger was tough. At first blush, I lead a fairly conventional life. Married, two kids, two cats, mortgage slave, family wagon -- all the typical, middle-class trappings. Dig deeper and see that I eschew organized religion and speak aloud to the spirits in the forest. I have partaken in an ayahuasca ceremony. I haven't had cable since 1987. (I was stumped on the Sunday NYT crossword last week because I didn't know Julia Louis-Dreyfus's role on Seinfeld.) Again, to quote Franti, "I don't eat red meat, but I'm not a vegetarian." I burn incense, hula hoop in the house, don't have a cell phone, don't shave very often (especially in the winter), and am a vocal proponent of hemp and marijuana legalization, all the while married to a cop (albeit a cop with Libertarian inclinations). I do not believe there is a single, decent candidate for president, though I must confess that having seen Bill Bradley play basketball has me watching his campaign. I mean, hell, if we can elect an actor for president, why not an NBA star? As Michael Keaton says in Night Shift, "Is this a great country or what?"

This is a completely absurd world and America takes the cake for absurdity. Anything is possible. It's the freakiest country on the planet and we live here. I don't think the guy from Outside knew what hit him. Naturally, we're curious as all get out to read the story (slated for April).

I'm on a rant. I always feel this way after some fool with a cell phone glued to his ear passes me going 60 mph in a 45 zone on my way to work. Call it a peeve. In Aspen, they're debating putting an ordinance on the books that would ban the use of cell phones while driving. I can appreciate the concern, but can human stupidity be legislated into submission? Somehow I doubt it.

OK, back to freak. Think about it. What makes you a freak? Remember, freak is not a slur. It's a description of the unique and that, I'm sure, would be you.

To conclude, perhaps the freakiest thing about me, about us at Mountainfreak, is that we believe that environmental concerns overrule concerns for the bottom line. Take care of the planet and the money will follow. Practice peace and tolerance for all people, all beliefs, all cultures, and wealth is yours. And wealth is not just a bank account but a spiritual state. What a freak.

Peace.