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”

PNewL PNewS 25.2

PNewL PNewS

Volume 25 Issue 2                          “All the pnews that phits.”                                  July 2017

Travels with Roger, the Very Good Dog

     I wonder if Roger’s wish to be with me 24/7 wore thin for him over the course of 6,032 miles and 28 days. Despite being a rabid introvert, I do have my moments of enjoying the company of many different people (not together!) and it became apparent on the road, pretty early on, that while he is a good traveler, he is not a good visitor.

     Back story: This past winter I bought Roger an itty bitty RV, well, a van really which henceforth we will call “the rig.” I also call it the Rogermobile but usually forget to because that’s a long word. I wanted to be able to take Roger along on some adventures, and I wanted to visit friends who are far flung and are easier, in my mind, to visit in a row without puddle-jumping flights. And oh, how I wanted Roger to be along for the ride. Alas, as I said—better traveler than a visitor and soon I found it too hard to watch him cower as we arrived at each new destination. And every day is like Groundhog Day (the movie…and now a Broadway Show!), starting the getting to know people process anew. Lesson learned. We will figure out how to live on the road so we are both happy.

     Despite his lack of interest in meeting or re-meeting friends and family, we had a great time and saw some wonderful country. I billed this as the Friends & Family Tour—when Gene told me that Crater Lake might have roads closed into late June or July because of snow, I said, no pretty stuff, we are only seeing people. But the fact is, getting to the F&F, there is a lot of beautiful country to see and I am grateful to the folks who thought to preserve it.

     We left North Carolina heading west, staying in State Parks in Kentucky (hilly campground with lake), Missouri (lovely peaceful off the beaten path), Nebraska (huge reservoir) and Wyoming (gorgeous rock formations) over the next four nights. I had to make a quick detour to Paducah, the Quilt Capitol, to shop at Hancocks of Paducah where I have shopped online since online became a place one could shop. It did not disappoint. I couldn’t go to the quilting museum because it was too hot to leave Roger in the rig. Paducah is right on the Ohio River and this was where my interest in the rivers and how folks are using them began.

     I tried to stay on the “red roads” on my maps—not the interstates. I quickly learned that while these are good roads, typically lightly travelled, they are not as fast as the interstates and as a pedal to the metal kinda driver, this was an adjustment. The upside was the intimate view into Main Street America, which while interesting, was not always a happy sight. It did, however, make me understand a little bit more about how we could have differing views of the world based on where we live. My usual line, when I end up somewhere I don’t like is, If I lived here, I would move. Now I kept thinking if I lived here maybe I would have voted differently. Downtown small town America is empty. And Dollar Stores of all varieties are thriving. (Interestingly, on the red roads there are fewer Walmarts than I would have expected).

     In Laramie, we met up with Tim and Gwen who are volunteering at the Wyoming Regional Prison State Historic Site (I think those words are in the right order). They had started working there a week or so before I arrived so practiced their tour guiding on me. It’s a very cool facility. Stop in if you are nearby. Big selling point: It’s the only place Butch Cassidy was incarcerated! Continuing west and north to Jackson WY where Lisa and Charlie provided a phenomenal location (directly across the road from the Grand Tetons) and wonderful hospitality. And plenty of wildlife--the bison were frequent commuters across the prairie around the house. Onward to Missoula for a nice visit with Martha and her family, a brief visit with Suzy, Peggy and Betsy who I shared three weeks in China with almost 20 years ago (seriously???) and a trip to Wild Horse Island.

     It was on Wild Horse Island, that I finally decided the trip as planned was not going to work for Roger. I thought about turning around from there but really wanted to get to Portland and Peter, which also included a side trip to Sunriver to see Gene, but I’ll get back to that in a minute. While Roger was kind of a wreck in people’s homes, he had no fear when it came to riding in a boat out to the island. And when I set him on the dock, he trotted off as if he’d been doing it all his life. I had had a lot of worries about his reaction to both the boat and the island, but thankfully, he is an island dog.

     We had a good ride over to Portland staying in another State Park along the Columbia River, a lovely stay with my charming brother, and nice visit with Gene who was a good guide to Central Oregon, his relatively new home. Upon returning back to Portland to take Peter home, it seemed the right thing to do to make a relatively slow slog home. We missed Washington and visits with old friends which I had really looked forward to along with all of what is my visits to California—lots of people and fun. Sigh. But it would have been a lot of hopping around and adjusting, and Roger put his paw down and said no. Okay, he didn’t really but I got the picture.

     Back on the road, we spent the night at the Wallowa Lake State Park (lovely) and then on around the edge of Hells Canyon (who knew how pretty that could be!?!) into Idaho where I kinda ran out of State Parks and good campground juju. I know they are out there but not where we were, and we stayed at a just-off-the-highway place that was mostly occupied by people who I think lived there on a pretty much permanent basis. It was not as sad as it sounds (or as sad as we were about to face) but it was different scenery than we’d been seeing. The light through the cornfields that surrounded us as well as the wavy weeping willows softened the edges.

     Through some more of Idaho into a corner of Utah (saw the Salt Lake but only for a few moments) and then across into Colorado where we found Yampa River State Park. The following day we went down through great mountains on lovely little roads and landed in Kansas. I thought as I finally pulled into a “campground” that really was a truck stop beside the highway and trucks full of fly infested cattle, that I would write a country western song called “I found Hell and it’s in Kansas.” ‘Nuf said.

[Wow—are you glad I didn’t go to Washington and California? How I do run on!]

     We tried the scenic road in Kansas, which to me didn’t look a whole lot different than the other roads and eventually we were in Missouri where we found the Laura Ingalls Wilder RV Park directly across from the home where she wrote the Little House on the Prairie etc. Exciting! The last night on the road (prior to the scariest drive of the trip on a wiggly road along a boiling river from TN into NC in a blinding rainstorm) was at the David Crockett State Park, cram-packed with cars parked everywhere and every inch occupied. Thankfully everyone was well behaved and I scored neighbors who were two elderly brothers just starting on a three month road trip to Alaska who had brought along some watermelons they’d plucked from their field before leaving home in Alabama. In return, I gave them a month’s supply of poop bags for their puppy. It was the best I could do on short notice.

     I guess I would say it’s good to be home. I am sorry I missed the parts we skipped, but am glad I honored Roger’s limitations. On the other hand, we had a blast—the campgrounds were a fascinating look at an array of lifestyles. I liked seeing all the different “rigs” and accoutrements. We were usually the smallest vehicle in the place, but I did enjoy seeing how other people decked themselves out for “glamping.” It’s a great way to see the country and the people in it. As I said, Roger is a good traveller so I know we have many miles ahead.

Things I am Learning

& Miscellaneous Observations

• I must say I did have some storage envy as I inspected the neighboring campers’ rigs (from the outside) -- my space is very limited and I was overloaded as it was.

• There are a lot of rivers in this country that are being used for transporting goods. In one town in southern Illinois, a long line of trucks waited to unload onto barges in the Mississippi. Based on my route, I felt like we were very far from any roads where I would normally see this many semis. Plus, in the middle of what looks like nowhere to me, there are a lot of huge bridges over those huge rivers. It made me wonder about when they were all built and if this infrastructure is being well taken care of.

• Along with an insight into life on Main Street America, I was kinda horrified by the state of housing in some of those small towns. “Sub-standard” barely covers it.

• Mosquitos seem to be everywhere. I am wondering if they will be around after the apocalypse…mosquitos and cockroaches…how’s that for a party?

• You might have gathered I have a little bit of a “thing” for State parks. I have to say—I am impressed. Nice facilities, well taken care of and well used, and they seem to be everywhere. (I am sure there are plenty that aren’t all of the above but so far, they’re good for me.) I got a mailing from the NC State Park system which is quite handsome. I look forward to investigating the parks closer to home.

• I also really enjoyed secondary roads. They offer a view into small towns (where I had to slow down, stop at stop signs or traffic signals) and they can be plenty easy to drive but they are slower and a little more tiring. I found I had to plan accordingly. I often wondered why some towns are prosperous and others are not—this was not apparent as I trundled on through.

• I was wowed by the beautiful places I’ve never heard of--Curt Gowdy State Park, Hell’s Canyon, Land Between the Lakes--to name but a few.

• I much appreciated the middle-aged park people who put middle-aged camper in campsites near toilets.

• Camping does nothing for my hair.

• I need to remember to give as much thought to the end of the trip as I do to the beginning. Since this ending came faster than expected I cut myself slack, but I found I didn’t have as much time to look at the big picture on the road as I would have expected. Things take longer when camping and travelling with a dog.

• Billboards in the heartland are different. Saw several for quilt shops and fertilizer and the benefits of GMOs.

• There are a lot of trains crisscrossing this country. I like it. Hope they continue to make them available as transportation.

• “Odor of America”—I found this in my notes (yes, I make notes for the PNewS). It doesn’t ring any bells other than the aforementioned “campground” with the cows and flies.

• Wow—I almost forgot to mention one of the unexpected highlights of the trip: Spring flowers! Blooms across the Plains and into Wyoming, Montana and beyond were everywhere and it was unexpected and so beautiful.

• And, by the way, it can still be quite cold in June in parts of this country. While I had worried about the heat on the return trip, running into snow in Wyoming and Oregon was a bit of a surprise.

• I will try to remember: take less stuff. I had way too many books and knitting projects. Too many clothes and dishes. Oddly, not enough silverware.

• Another note to self which doesn’t conjure up much of a memory but are words to live by: “No judgment. We all do things differently.”

• I asked Peter and Gene to come with me to refill my propane tank. That kind of thing intimidates me and I figured they’d be good folks to have along on this adventure. After a total of about four weeks in the van, making coffee and boiling water and maybe a scrambled egg, I paid the nice man about $1 to “refill” my tank. Good to know.

• (Not van trip related) It’s always a relief and a bit of buyer's remorse when I finally make a plane reservation.

• I have a new dishwasher, which makes me incredibly happy—I can actually run it when I am in the house. It’s practically silent. I was looking at the directions and am curious about the rinse aid product that makes dishes dryer. I don’t get it—isn’t dry dry? I also am amazed at the diagrams of how to fill the two racks. What if you don’t only have cups, glasses, plates and bowls for eight?

Test Drives and other Distractions

    The first test drive was solo and practically local. In early April, I took a metalworking class at the John C Campbell Folk School, which I should say was a ton of fun. We made rooster lawn art. Can’t wait to go back. They have a campground on campus and they provide a variety of meal plan options, which took the pressure off menu planning. I opted for lunch and dinner, which gave me one quiet time meal and two with other people. That worked for me

     The campground is pretty quiet—some commuting traffic early but keep in mind this is Brasstown NC so if absolutely everyone in town drove by, there’d hardly be a line at the stop sign. Anyway, it was peaceful. I think the only weird part was that locals would pull in to use the bathrooms and showers. And the too bad part was that it rained and stormed most of the week. I think I only popped the camper top one out of four days. But everything went well, I thought.

            The second test drive, Roger’s first, we went to meet up with Gini and Blaze, another very good dog, in Georgia. We stayed for a few days at the campground on Jekyll Island, which is very civilized though packed. It was a great view of tons of different kinds of rigs. But Gini lives at the beach and I used to live at the beach and we ran out of interest in the beach so we headed inland where it turned out it was pretty hot and sweaty…in April. We ended up at Little Lake Ocmulgee State Park, which was not a bad place, just a little odd. The lake was the opposite of inviting and the people at the Inn on the property where we checked in were strangely uninformed. It provided a place to land and we explored a little. If you are ever in the area, check out the Statue of Liberty made from recycled objects in nearby McRae.

     And last but certainly not least (and not a test drive), I spent my birthday weekend in New York City celebrating with some friends from high school and college. Fourteen of us from the class of ’75 gathered for a fun time. I saw shows, and the Chihuly exhibit at the NY (Bronx) Botanical Gardens, ate, and went to a Gala. It was a perfect celebration.

     I think that’s probably enough about me.

How’re you?

PNewL PNewS is 25! Whoo-hoo!!!

PNewL PNewS
Volume 25 Issue 1                     “All the pnews that phits.”          April 2017

The Usual Rambling

     It is apparently past time to write an update. I just opened a bottle of bubbly water that sprayed all over the kitchen despite not having been touched in 24 hours and Roger didn’t like it but he didn’t care and I felt compelled (for some unknown reason...) to tell someone and that someone is you. Usually something bubbles up (how apropos!) as a topic for this part of the PNewS but over the past couple weeks, I have tried to force it. When I looked at what my life entailed other than knitting and working on wrapping up this year’s work for the women’s giving circle Grants Committee, and dogs and walking and eating and sleeping, I thought, really, I’ve been pondering.

     I thought that at some point life would just kinda go along without a lot of effort or twists and turns. My parents were lousy role models in this regard as they made it look pretty easy. But then I was a kid and what did I know? Self-centered little twit like most of us are, I never saw them ruminating, figuring, planning, crying, arguing. They also had five kids and busy lives so I suspect they didn’t always have a lot of time to navel-gaze. So lately, as I face one of those big birthdays, which seem to raise some flags and are ripe for pondering, I have been wondering if what I am doing is what I really want to be doing and if this is where I want to do it, and what about the people with whom I am doing it? The problem with having an endless number of choices is that there are a LOT of choices.

     Then Cami came into my life. She is the latest foster dog. She was found at a dump in Georgia or so the story goes and was totally “shut down.” That is shelter speak I guess. I found her beyond terrified of humans. It took a couple weeks but Roger (and then Trooper who had been here before and came back for a week while his human went away) showed her the way and they fast became a pack. She started going outside all by herself. She let me pet her. She started sleeping on the furniture. I dreaded her going back to the shelter but she had to eventually and there were things coming up that meant a lot of time away from the house for me. Then the man came to repair the window that someone/dog broke, Trooper and Roger barked their fool heads off, and she flipped out and escaped. Shelters don’t look too kindly on people with escape-able fences so they took her back to the shelter.

     But first, the nice part of the story: I was a wreck (this isn’t the nice part)—I hunted for her but knew she would never come to me. I had to ‘fess up. The shelter people were not happy. They sent out a “trapper” (honest). Meanwhile, Loveeta came over and helped me look—she saw her immediately, on the other side of the creek lounging against Jeff and Susan’s fence. She didn’t seem to be going anywhere—she wasn’t leaving, just getting away from all of the ruckus. Then the trapper came and we set up stinky food in the trap and he left. She never bothered with that. As it started to get dark and it was time to eat, she came across the creek and Roger went to play with her. After several romps in the yard, Roger brought her back inside the fence. Roger is my magical hero. Tragedy was avoided. My heart was broken but everyone was safe, if not happy about it.

     I don’t know how Cami fits into this essay. She got in the way of my pondering. When there is a being for whom just survival is a daily process of pain and terror, pondering seems kinda less than essential. Puts things in perspective, but then she’s a dog and I am a human. There’s that.

     I haven’t come to any conclusions but I do like the process of pondering. I now have several weeks of celebrating ahead so pondering may go on the back burner for this human, or maybe not—I never know when the good ideas will come.

Things I am Learning

& Miscellaneous Observations

• I took a class in the fall from an inspiring artist who is funny and talented and generous. I have been following this person’s progress since. Checking the website and Instagram page. Awkwardly, I don’t know what pronoun s/he uses.  On his/her page, s/he says gender is complicated. That has haunted me since I read it. What is it like to have gender complicated? Life is complicated enough—I am grateful that that is not one of the things I have had to think about. But it makes you think, don’t it? On the Instagram page, people refer to the hard times this person went through to get where s/he is today. Brava or bravo! (PS Since I wrote this, I went back to the Instagram page and there was a comment about the other pronoun: ze has one now.)

• I confess: I understand texting while driving. I know it is incredibly dangerous and stupid and don’t do it, but I get it. Since I started driving, we have added a lot of distractions: changing CDs/tapes, talking on the phone, looking at “navigational systems,” etc. I just got my first smart phone and as I feared: I love it. I keep finding new things that it does and that make me happy. Like when I got my first iPad, I carry it around like a teddy bear. When it dings, I want to respond… immediately. It makes me understand texting in stupid situations—we have blurred so many lines.

• As I suspect I have mentioned many times, I am an audio book addict. What I want to know is: What are people eating that gets all over the back of the CDs? I had one recently that I had to wipe down EVERY disc because of the unidentifiable goo on the back. I am currently in the middle of one where I had to chip some stuff off the last disc. Makes the downloading from the library option pretty darned attractive…and now I have a smart phone that will make that a piece o cake…see?

• I can't imagine sharing an email account. I have some couple-friends who do and it boggles my mind! Dear friends do and I learned they have over 300 unread emails in their inbox (bugs me out—but they are both fine with that) and when I gasped, Ernie said then you don't want to know how many read emails we have! (And they are both fine with THAT!?!?)

• I have started figuring the route for our (Roger and me) road trip this summer: I have little sticky notes each with the name of people I hope to see on the trip. I am moving them around a calendar--old school: paper calendar.

• I bought a used vehicle in December and since then have received at least six very formal official looking letters accusing me of being irresponsible in not contacting them to get a warranty on my new-to-me van. At first I was taken aback. What to do? (nothing) Is this real??? (no) Now I am just annoyed. (And then I got a letter from the DMV saying that State Farm who I send a lot of money to year after year says I don’t have insurance. THAT is more than annoying! It’s SF’s error that I have to rectify. Looking for a new insurance agent/company.)

• I used to like to pick clever or fun passwords. It occurred to me recently I have to change them so often it isn’t worth putting much energy into it.

• While pulling bittersweet out of the holly tree, I wondered whether I hated bittersweet more than brambles or vice-versa. I think the truth is I hate the one I am pulling out right then. (Jeff says the brambles are worse because of the thorns. Susan reminded me to add  honeysuckle and multi-flora roses to the equation. And I have them all…in abundance. Lucky me.)

• Love it when I put something somewhere and think, I am going to forget, but no, since I have thought that, I won’t, and then I do. Almost thought I was going to have to pay for a missing book but found it when I remembered thinking I wouldn’t remember. Confused? Welcome to my world.

• The day after tomorrow I leave for a metalwork class and my test-camping sans the pooch. My shoulder is at around 85%. I have proved to myself that I can set up my “rig.” (I have joined a couple of FB pages about women camping solo in vehicles—well, they say RVs but I can’t. Mike gave me a membership in RVing Women, which has a magazine and a list serv that look to be helpful. They all call em rigs, so I will now too.) I am still a little nervous about things like propane and water and batteries but I figure I am going to have to learn as I go. Meanwhile, I have lists and have started packing. Need to check the battery on my welding hood….yes, I own one. It’s a go! The bummer is my first full day: 100% chance of thunderstorms.

     Remarkably, after much calendar comparing and campsite hunting, I have a second test drive scheduled on Jekyll Island with Roger, Gini and her dog Blaze. I confess I wasn’t convinced we would find a date or that it made sense in the big calendar picture but I am getting excited. Time for a good visit, to confer with seasoned veterans of the road (Gini and Blaze), and the beach. This celebrating is addictive.

• I decided to start reading books I own rather than the constant distraction of bright shiny volumes at the library. I have piles of books in my bedroom that someone recommended to me though I can’t remember who it was or why they recommended them. I picked through a few and thought, I am not inspired to read them. I want to be the person who wants to read these but I am beginning to think I am not. What to do? Hold onto them until I am or take them to the library and say, you deal with all these misfits. I just realized that, although I find GoodReads.com a good place to keep a list of all the books I want to read in one convenient place, I still don’t always know who recommended them or why.

• And so the PNewS turns 25. If I weren’t supposed to be doing something else, I would sit down and count the number of issues. It’s well over 100. One of these days, I will do something with them. The 25^th year was my original deadline. Maybe I could look at the end of this year? Anyway, I’m pretty proud of it. Haven’t stuck with much else for this long. On we go, my friends.

“So guys just remember, if ever you feel weighed down by the bureaucracy…of modern life don’t fight the frustration…let it be the catalyst for whimsy.”  

   Comedian James Veitch

[Editors Note: if only...]