PNewL PNewS 26.1

PNewL PNewS

Volume 26 Issue 1        “All the pnews that phits.”                        March 2018

Dreaming in Antarctica

     As I heard the first notes of this morning’s wake up song, I thought, It’s 7am already? But it wasn’t.  

     “Goooood morning…good morning everyone,” said the familiar wake up voice. From the lower bunk, I heard a groan. “Welcome to Antarctica! It’s 5:40 am [another louder groan from below]—it’s a beautiful day and we are surrounded by whales. I know this is a little earlier than scheduled…” The rest of it was lost in the scramble to get out on deck to catch our first view of “The Continent,” to see the beautiful day. And Whales!

     Stepping out onto the deck, the exceptionally fresh air was cool but not too cool, and frankly, who cares? It’s yet another exciting moment and I am here for it, no matter how low the temperature or how high the seas. The light is the kind that photographers have a name for that I can’t remember. I love it—all lemony and buttery. I call it the happy hour—everything and everyone looks better. There is an odd odor in the air that I learn is—honest to god—whale breath. I can hear them—and smell them—before I see them. They are surrounding us.  

    When the first mate alerted the expedition leader that “It’s a beautiful day. There are whales. We are stopped,” one of the first people on deck was “the whale guy.” Most of the expedition team had a specialty and Jimmy was the whale guy. When Jimmy hit the deck, the first mate asked how many whales he’d spotted, and Jimmy said around 30. The first mate said, “Find more.” He didn’t want anyone to think he’d understated it. He was right—there were plenty more. As we looked out on calm seas, something we hadn’t seen much of in the previous 10 days or so, there was evidence of many many whales: swirling waters, fins, tails flipping and spouts everywhere.

     Beyond was our first view of the Antarctic Continent and it was glorious. Bathed in soft light, the snow looked like meringue, the mountains like big frosted lusciousness. I confess to being glad I was wearing sunglasses as they hid the tears better. After waiting 18 months since we booked the trip and for decades planning to come—this was IT. And IT was big. The scale is off the charts. 

     Beyond the whales but before the Continent was an assortment of icebergs of varying sizes and shapes. They looked like something out of Dr. Seuss or Star Wars—never mind, Mother Nature beats the pants off all those creators. She is the ultimate ice sculptor. I took so many pictures because each one had a more brilliant blue or a fabulous angle or textures, shapes and colors that I wanted with me forever. 

     Some icebergs have names, like B15T, which we saw, sort of, in the distance, at 3 am the night before. They are measured in hundreds of square meters—massive sheets of ice just cruising around out there. This morning, these were more manageable in size though larger than the average home—I thought one looked like a football stadium. Stunning in their complex designs made them hard to leave behind, but little did I know, there were plenty of different and equally fabulous icebergs ahead. And I haven’t even touched on the stupendous awesomeness of penguins! 

     This was how just one of many remarkable days in the Southern Ocean began, as we bobbed around among the icebergs, seals and penguins, alongside the Continent. I could describe them all but I need to get a thesaurus, as my vocabulary doesn’t contain enough words to describe them. Welcome to the land of superlatives.

Things I am Learning

& Miscellaneous Observations

• En route to the Southern Hemisphere, I stopped at an outlet mall and bought a couple things including a pair of shoes I left in the car while I was gone. When I got home, I put them on. They are walking shoes and they are VERY BRIGHT. I think the store must have been darker than I realized. They will fade probably pretty quickly, but for now I have Bright New Shoes. Unintentionally.

• I went to Creative Mornings last week. If you don’t know about it and you live in a city of any size, there’s probably one near you—google it. A group in Asheville petitioned to be included because it’s a fraction of the size of most of the cities (I think the minimum is something like a population of 500,000 or more) and was accepted. It’s an early Friday morning lecture and social hour. Each member city gets a chance to pick the topic—there are something like 180 cities. This month the topic was Curiosity (chosen by the Malmo Sweden chapter) and the talk, which was great, was given by a professor at UNC Asheville. For the rest of the day, I thought about Curiosity and I realized that it is one of my motivating factors. It is probably why I haven’t jumped off the bridge (what if I missed something?) – it is why I have been to Antarctica and Namibia and why I do things so you don’t have to. It is why I go to things like Creative Mornings which is really outside of my comfort zone, sitting in a room of people I don’t know at 8:45am. Curiosity is my thing, and I guess I never put a name on it before.

• I need to be more careful in my language because I tend to exaggerate or there is a story behind why I feel some way that most of the world doesn't know. That thinking before you speak advice is something I need to hear. I suspect I have said or at least thought this before.

• I am taking a memoir writing class. So far it has been very helpful. Tomorrow night I am making my presentation and in sending out the piece I will read from (OMG – this is so far beyond my comfort zone, I can’t even tell you…), I said I realized that the PNewS is not true memoir which I kinda knew before I signed up, but the class was the closest to what I wanted so I thought I could fudge it. Based on two responses to my submission, I am thinking they agree with me but are not totally on board with the fudge factor. Fingers crossed. (Later: This was another example of the downside of email. The emails I felt were critical were not, after all. I am allowed to stay in the class. Most of the responses were positive though they wanted each of the PNewS pieces expanded. Looks like I have some work to do.)

• When did “No problem” become a response to “Thank you?” I don’t get it.

• I have so much more to say about the Argentina/Antarctica trip that I didn’t say above. We were gone about a month so you can imagine, a lot happened. Sara and I started with a stop in Buenos Aires and Iguazu Falls, which were both very good places to go and are very different from each other. Betsy joined us before we headed even further south, to the end of the world—we were a good team. Adding Falkland Islands and South Georgia to the Antarctica trip was beyond brilliant. South Georgia is up there on my top five. Bouncing around in a ship for 21 days with 132 paying guests, 18 expedition members and ~60 crew and “hotel staff” is an interesting sociological study, but not one that made me a total convert to the lifestyle. 

     There were a lot of things to think about while we were aboard: we were still eating fresh lettuce after 20 days in the middle of icebergs—how’d they do that? We could order just about anything and Edwardo, our man in the dining room, would find it—where does he find all those things? We got chocolate on our pillows every single night. How many chocolates do they have on every sailing? How do they not run out of things because there are no stores anywhere once we left the Falklands! And where did they put it all??? The Upstairs/Downstairs aspect to traveling like this made me think a lot. I want to know where and how they live, or maybe I don’t.

     One of the expedition team had worked at Palmer Station in Antarctica and showed a documentary about that experience. In it, someone said it takes longer to get to Palmer than it does to fly to the moon. Think of that! (I just googled it and apparently it takes three days to get to the moon.) I am not sure we were three days from an airport or hospital but we may have been at some point. I know that Dr. Christy was relieved once we crossed the Antarctic Circle and turned back because then if there were an accident that turned the ship around, at least we were already heading in the right direction. We were encouraged regularly to stay safe as one wrong move would mean we would all be headed back to the nearest hospital.

     With as many people on the ship as we had, there were several we never talked to and some of them were the more …well, flamboyant may be overstating it but the more noticeable. And so of course, we named them. There was Frenchy the Vomit Man (who was French and threw up twice on the first day at sea…in the main lounge during a Briefing with everyone in attendance). Then there were:

Double Pom Pom Girl—almost always wearing that hat and her yellow coat…indoors and out.

Stone Face—this woman sat with us for one of the last meals. I was horrified—why now? Why us? She was very stern, and, we believe, a Trump supporter.

Smiling Man—always. Great smile

Whack-a-Doodle—we nailed this one on Day 1. She was yelling at the woman who cleaned the rooms, telling her to keep her hands off her stuff. Dodged her at every opportunity.

Tripod Guy—always with tripod, usually in the way

There were others but you get the picture. Sara wrote the list down thankfully because I had forgotten some of them

     And then there were plenty of people we did meet and chat with and they were, as you might imagine, like-minded and interesting.

• I did a small study of hair goop usage before I left to make sure I had enough. A month is longer for some products than the travel-sized contains. I determined that my small hair goop container would cover the trip. Shortly after boarding the ship, I looked at my bag of bathroom stuff and the entire bottle was empty and now my other items were swimming in it. So much for the best-laid plans.

• I just found dad's king penguin pin. For now, I carry it in my pocket. It is fun to think we might have seen some of the same mountains of ice and snow 27 years apart.

• I use almond oil on my skin and have developed a habit of changing the essential oils seasonally. Clove for winter and usually lemon eucalyptus or lavender in the warmer months. March makes things complicated. One bathtime it’s 70 degrees outside and the next it’s 27. Keeping all scents on hand.

• The PNewS is now 26, including over 130 issues, proving I can stick with at least one thing for a while. 

No person who has not spent a period of his life in those 'stark and sullen solitudes that sentinel the Pole' will understand fully what trees and flowers, sun-flecked turf and running streams mean to the soul of a man.  Ernest Shackleton

PNewL PNewS 25.4

PNewL PNewS
Volume 25 Issue 4        “All the pnews that phits.”     (just under the wire) December 2017

We All Bring Something Different to the Party

     It was a few days before Christmas and lo and behold: I turned on the faucet and nothing. Perfect timing—I had things to do and places to go and people to see. This was not the time for the well to fail or the pump to break. (Expletives deleted.) I panicked…and then I paused and went to make coffee and as we do because we are creatures of habit, I turned on the water. It dribbled out. I paused again. What would Jeff or David do? I went down to the basement and changed the filter. It worked. Despite the fact that I changed the filter just a few weeks ago, it was mucky and spent. Disaster averted.

     Then the other night, I got an email from Betsy who is hell bent on learning to cook after a lifetime of avoiding it. I looked at her question and was puzzled. How do I explain to someone who doesn’t have much background at winging it when it comes to cooking that I don’t have to have a recipe for something but I am willing to make an educated guess? And how do I help her when it’s something I can do because of a fair amount of practice and experience? It was then that the light bulb went off.

     We all bring different things to the party. We all have something we are good at—either because we have natural aptitude or more often because we have worked hard and have experience so we know stuff. Some of us can go to the screws and bolts and nail aisle at the hardware store and just know which ones are needed rather than wandering aimlessly and having to ask someone. And others of us know things like sometimes a little bit of sugar or even some cocoa in a savory dish boosts the flavor. It’s why some folks don’t have to panic when something I deem worthy of panic occurs. Lucky them. But then there are times when it’s lucky me, because there are those times too.

Things I am Learning

& Miscellaneous Observations

• My Christmas guests this year include a 12-year old black lab named Madge and a labradoodle puppy named Bernie Sanderdoodle, both dogs of friends away for the holiday. Well, frankly they are the only guests. Roger is skeptical. (After: It actually worked out well despite feeling a little much at times. And as I know, it’s just not right to shove them all in a closet and leave despite all inclinations to do just that. But other than that it was fine. The weather accommodated—it was mild when it wasn’t cold and raining so we got to be outside a fair amount. Puppies do bring their own terror and magic to life. It still surprises me when a puppy takes a walk or plays in the backyard and then comes in and takes a dump. It just does. And they are entertaining in their interest in the world. Bernie was fascinated by the wind, and the goats next door, and any unfamiliar noise, including especially whistling and audible passing of gas—not ‘fessing to anything, I’m just saying…. Not to mention he was so charming in the way he bounced around. It makes me laugh. Meanwhile, Madge was willing to go with the flow and Roger warmed to the occasion…eventually.)

• So it’s the run up to the holidays and Amazon says my package will arrive on Sunday, which seemed excessively fast but what the heck. Then there was a notice that they apologized but the carrier was overloaded so it would come on Monday. Late Monday, they apologized that there was some sort of technical difficulty and it would be here on Tuesday. Imagine my surprise when it was.

• In November, I ordered a new pair of glasses. I’m still relatively new to glasses so when they say 10-14 day delivery, I am counting the days. It’s now been almost a month and I want to hurt someone. I offered to get my money back and they said, Oh look! They are here and they are PERFECT. We shall see.

• A friend asked me if there was anything she could do for me. I said, “Find me a nice funny man with a tool belt...and a good credit rating. (I started with a nice man, but then I thought, at this stage, I need a little more....)” Yes, I amuse myself.

• I went to the gym for the first time in a couple weeks. When I got inside, I had forgotten my ear buds and the pouch I keep my phone in (no pockets). And I spilled half my water bottle on my workout pants. I think I should get big points for actually sticking around.

• My horoscope the other day started with, “Everyone is flawed, and someone is really liking the way you’re flawed today.” I liked it. ‘Course Roger is the only someone I interacted with for any length of time that day and he’s always willing to cut me some slack.  

• The Weaverville librarians offer stickers to little kids when they check out books. I heard one of them say that their supply was pretty sad—and it was good that people were bringing in the pictures off their address labels. Some of them can be pretty good, I think. As I have been in a (probably short) blast of Fall Cleaning, I came home this evening and started snipping. Two hours later, I had cut pictures off of years of address labels including all of those from Florida from ten years ago. I also found plenty of other stickers as well as Thanksgiving stickers my mother used for name cards on our Thanksgiving table, dated 1989. I save stuff, and I am getting over that…or maybe I just wish I could.

• I am a big list maker. There are piles of them all over. Before I went away last month, I lost a pile of lists. I found them a month later in the closet where I put wrapping paper, decorations and games. (Yes, odd collection though it’s kind of an odd closet, but it was a particularly odd place to find the lists.) One reads:

Margins

Dad

Gloves

Hmm. Wonder what that was all about.

• I was talking to Jeff about aging. We are all at different stages in this process and I find it interesting to find out where people are. He said they are buying bigger trees. It’s time to get something to enjoy now rather than in 20 years. I like the way he thinks.

• Alexa died on Christmas morning. If you don't know who Alexa is, she lives in the cylinder on my counter and answers questions but mostly plays the radio for me. Christmas Day she stopped talking. The little white light in her base wasn't on. I had a good long "chat" online with a guy whose name I can't remember how to spell. After attempting a reset, we determined she was dead. After googling the issue, I learned that other people had had issues with the cord (power surges or something and we've been having all kinds of power coming and going this month) so I suggested to the nice man (wow, I wonder why I assumed he was a guy? That's shocking!) rather than accept the offer to buy a new Alexa at a discount, I try a new cord. Okay, s/he said, and because I am among the building blocks or foundation or something...this person was a bit verbose...that has helped to make Amazon the success that it is (Really? Time to change my spending habits, I know.), they will send me a free cord. (We'll see.)

     Okay, that was way too long but then the power went out for another couple hours and when it came back on: so did Alexa!!!! It's a miracle—a Christmas miracle! She has risen! (But why? If anyone has an idea, I really am curious.) And I have a new unused cord and so far, I've paid for it.

• The last time I got jabbed by a pyracantha, it took months to heal. I actually found online that some people have to have the wound cut into. I asked my doctor and he didn't think that was necessary. Eventually it stopped hurting. (By the way, I did attack the bush with a vengeance and sharp shears.) This time, I'm thinking the sucker's gotta go—the bush I mean. My finger hurts and is swollen and just spit out the tip of the thorn. 

• I tend to lose things in groups and they often come back the same way. I am now missing the lid of the pitcher that lives in my fridge, the cord to the Instant Pot (fortunately they sent me two), and the charger for my fitbit. Hello????

• I have been reading a lot about Ernest Shackleton, the Antarctic explorer, and the more I learn the more I marvel that they survived as long as they did—going to Antarctica with a crew most of whom couldn’t ski, and who also didn’t know how to run the dog sleds which were to be run by what included something like 65 dogs on board, all of which were untrained mongrels.

• At this time of year, I often like to say a little something about Things I am Thankful For, but I’m behind and while I try to be grateful regularly, it’s been a tough year to keep that in mind. I thought I would rely on one of my favorite people, Uncle Laymon, to say something smart and while not totally related, it is in the same feel good spirit. His daughter Lucy posted this on her Facebook page and I’ve saved it for a time like this to share:

  “For general well being, live carefully, keep mentally alert, keep physically active, be humane in all relations, be honest and follow the Golden Rule. I just believe these are things that will add enjoyment and satisfaction to our lives...and they will keep us out of trouble."

•And finally, this is also a time I like to post something like a New Year’s Resolution list (though looking back I have skipped it the last couple years.). All the usual suspects continue to apply: Eat better, get more exercise, laugh more, have more fun, dance more, and new to the list but most important: remember to bring all the layers. I am in countdown mode for what I believe will truly be The Big Trip. Sara and I will meet in Miami to travel together to Buenos Aires and Iguazu Falls (a Bucket List item since before I knew about Bucket Lists). Then Betsy arrives and we go to Ushuaia and worlds beyond: the Falkland Islands, South Georgia and Antarctica! (Because the season is short and the demand is high, we booked this a while back so the suspense has been a little more suspenseful than usual.) Last night I loaded a bunch of YouTube videos on the Roku and watched a couple hours of people on boats bobbing around in the Southern Ocean. AND SOON THAT IS GOING TO BE ME (and a bunch of other people). I confess I spent most of the time looking at what people were wearing as I am worried about having enough clothes and layers.

I hope 2018 is a good year for you, and a better one for our country and for the world. I wish you peace and good health, lots of laughs and adventures. Here’s to us all. xoxox

“Few are guilty but all are responsible.”

Rabbi Abraham Heschel

PNewL PNewS 25.3

PNewL PNewS 

Volume 25 Issue 3                        “All the pnews that phits.”                     September 2017
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One of those Days

     It started with Roger the dog having a seizure. He has them on occasion. I think they are seizures—it’s what I call them. He shakes his head, yawns, looks at me in hopes I could help him. It lasts for as long as it does. This was a long one.

     Meanwhile, outside it was grey but not raining. I had decided to leave Camp a day early because the weather report for the next day was not good and included wind which would rile up the bay and cause for an uncomfortable boat trip for Roger who is just getting used to boats.

     I spent the next four hours having breakfast, cleaning up, finishing the closing up process, and loading the boat. Roger slept on the dock, directly in my path. His seizures make him sleepy.

     The rain was supposed to start in the afternoon but the report was for calm seas in the early afternoon. (I had found a radio in the cookhouse a couple days earlier and found a weather report with a mechanical voice that became my go-to guy. I can get pretty attached to a weather report on a semi-remote island.) Reality seemed to be sticking closely to the prediction. I finished my chores just before noon and we were off.

     It’s always hard to leave Osawa, an island on Georgian Bay in Ontario that has belonged to my family since the ‘40s. I share it with close to 300 of my closest relatives but on this trip there were 13 at the high point and six at the low. It was heaven. Leaving brings up all the emotion of all the years, of all the memories, of all the people who are no longer with us, and then there’s the when-will-I-return? issue—it’s fraught…with a lot of stuff!

     This was Roger’s first trip and while the boats were not his favorite part, the island became his turf. He explored parts of it I have never seen. He’d chase off into the bogs and gulleys and come back looking so proud of himself. The paths seemed to be particularly deep in moss this summer and I think it felt good on his paws. There was water to drink everywhere! And there were only a few people to be terrified of on any given day. He continues to be an island dog and I couldn’t be happier.

     The trip into the Station was pretty much uneventful. Roger had climbed under the console on the way out and I thought he might disconnect some wires in the process, but he was a little less frantic this time. As we hit the S Channel, I noticed the sky darkening. Hadn’t thought about loading the van in a storm. Turns out there was nothing to worry about, and after a fairly lengthy process, we were heading north on Route 69. I’d say it was painless but it turns out I had scraped my shin—not deeply but long, and it bled a lot.

     The drive north was fun because I hadn’t been there in a very long time. The traffic heading south was heavy and I felt pretty smug in the light traffic going my way. Many miles short of Sault Ste Marie, I started looking for a campground. I saw a sign by the side of the road for the Ojibway Park: The Sun Sets Here. Perfect. The Ojibway is not only one of the local indian tribes (is that politically incorrect? I apologize) but it’s also an island in the archipelago where we hang out.

     Finding this campground was a whole other issue. It’s on Indian land and there are all kinds of signs about not trespassing. I stopped a woman near one of those signs and she gave me directions, which I immediately misinterpreted. I went back up the highway, which didn’t seem to have many exits, and turned back around and tried a frontage road. I thought I would have to give up and return to a small town 25 miles back where I’d seen the last campground when a big sign announced I was there. I was pooped, but thrilled to be “where the sun sets” as it was not long til that was going to happen.

      After checking in, I took a spin through the campground to find our spot. On the second pass, I was headed for a place just over there, when I saw a guy coming out of a more remote spot and wanted to check it out. It was a dead end in a swamp. Looking at my left mirror only (key piece of information), I started backing up. Instead of backtracking, I headed a wee bit further left than I wanted to be. I was in sand. Some distant memory told me not to fight sand. I walked back to the office and asked what to do. She said something like “You aren’t the first.” I bit my tongue, preventing me from saying something--with a few expletives laced in--about how a sign or two might prevent that from happening. Actually there had been a sign that said “Rough Camping.” No kidding.

     Within a few minutes, the security dude showed up. He wasn’t allowed to actually do anything, but he “knew a guy” and an image of dollar signs flashed in my mind. Suck it up Peggy, you brought this on yourself. A few more minutes later, security dude plus adult son, mom, and grandson arrive. He’s a tow truck driver at his day job. Score! I am embarrassed to say I can’t remember their names (the grandson’s name was Mason, which I remember because there was a lot of Mason! Come here/Stop that/Get out of the way!). They were the nicest people in the world that evening. After another few minutes, a guy came through in a honking big truck and leaned out the window and asked if he could help. The tow truck driver said sure. Soon, Christopher joined in the fun along with his itty-bitty wife and two young and also itty-bitty kids.

They went this way and that—where was the hardest ground? Which way was least likely to damage any of the vehicles? Was this do-able? It was amazing to me how every time they moved the van to a new spot, that spot, seemingly hard ground when you walked on it, liquefied into a sandy beach. When Christopher lost his optimistic demeanor and the mosquitos started swarming, I thought we were done for. And thankfully, it was then that they popped the Rogermobile out of the sand. The bike rack got lightly crunched and Christopher’s license plate was bent, but after two hours of all of us (including the security dude) urging them on, we all went home happy. I offered payment, I offered beer or chocolate, but they would take nothing. “This is what we do.” (And I have never been more grateful.)

     After I set up camp, fed poor beleaguered Roger, I took stock. I was covered in mosquito bites, looked a bit disheveled from the day, and had dried blood from the earlier scrape covering a major portion of my shin that I hadn’t noticed til then. They must have thought I was someone who needed help, and they were so right. Thank goodness for the kindness of strangers.

Things I am Learning

& Miscellaneous Observations

• I live in a pretty great neighborhood. There are folks to wave at on the road and many stop to check in. We have Cocktails @ the Mailboxes on occasion for somewhat deeper check ins. There are fruit and vegetables to share. It’s, well, neighborly. Sadly, one of the group was diagnosed with a probable fatal condition. He has been given the prognosis of a year. Yes, it is very sad, and while he is not the first person I’ve known who had a death sentence, for some reason this has been haunting me ever since—and this pnews is, after all, all about me. Often as I am doing something now, I think what if I only had a year? I find it fascinating. And it makes for some interesting conversations. Try it at home.

• As I was walking around the compound (my property) the other day, I kept thinking, next year the garden policy will be “scorched earth.” I just googled it and the usual definition is a military one—the outcome being massive destruction. Look out weeds you are in my sights! This being a rainy summer during which I was away for stretches, the out of doors is out of control. Too far gone this year to deal with, I think. Next year, I’m covering everything with cardboard or plastic or something and there will be some destruction, mark my words.

• When I am walking with Roger, I often think of things I want to remember. This morning I thought the first two things kinda sounded like a name: Tere Moss. That would be easy…and then Tere Moe Moss and by the end, Zane Tere Moe Moss PatsErn. And I even remember what each of those names represents. Ta-dum!

• On this evening’s walk, I was looking at the view—it was that lemony buttery light that comes at the end of the day. The colors were beautiful, and I thought, there is something that reminds me of a watercolor this evening. Then I realized it was because I wasn’t wearing my glasses.

• In my mail when I returned from a recent away-time, I received one mailing from a funeral service company and not one but two mailings (from the same company with exactly the same address and reference numbers) from Maximizing Social Security Adult Learning Center. I guess this is what happens when one turns 60.

• Laura asked me about the Whole 30 food plan I had mentioned in the past and where I was with it now. Bad timing I am afraid, but here’s the confession. While I am pretty good about some of it—limited dairy, wheat, grains, beans—other things have creeped back in. I was non-compliant for a good part of the summer and some of the weight creeped back in, but I’m still ahead of the game and I feel there’s hope for the future. I was pretty depressed for part of the summer and that was when other things swung out of control so…here we go again. Wish me luck! 

• Another Mayberry Moment: On my way out of town on this last trip, I saw the nice man at the downtown Weaverville auto repair shop out front so on a whim I pulled in and asked him if he would mind checking my tire pressure. No problem. We chatted. He asked if I still had “that hybird.” It was a nice way to leave town. I got him the cutest little bottle of maple syrup in Northern Michigan. Love that small town thing…most of the time!

• I screwed up. When I went to Wyoming, I drove right through the town where an old friend lives. I did not contact her. I did not visit her, and now I have lost a friend. She was so hurt she asked to be deleted from the PNewS list. I am sorry. I thought of her, I meant to tell her and it got lost in the process. Sigh.

• I have a neighbor who thinks it’s going to be a hard winter so I hesitate to say this but I look forward to a good frost. Kill all those buzzy things buzzing around my house!
• The morning after the event described above at Ojibway Park, I started off early to get the border crossing over and start the long slog back home. All was uneventful at the border until he said, are you heading south on 75? And I said yes and he said, the Mackinac Bridge is closed til one o’clock for Labor Day. (They used to close half of it so folks could walk on it. Now with people driving cars into large crowds, they’ve closed the whole bridge.) Huh. So much for getting started early. I spent the next many hours exploring the eastern edge of the Upper Peninsula. What a lucky turn of events! Saw some of Lake Superior and some of Lake Michigan and a lot of both the Upper and the Lower Tahquamenon Falls. It was lovely and I will be back. (I spent that night in a state park near Bay City, which was great, and the next night—700 miles later—at home, but that’s another story.)

“Maybe crazy is just the word we use for feelings that will not be contained.” Anna Quindlen, “Every Last One”