This is without a doubt the laziest day I have spent since last summer when I felt ill enough with a cold to actually use a sick day. When KW gets up, doesn’t feel like walking, and *cries* when Disco Lock acts up, you know she is sick 🐗 I remember thinking about working from home that day but then I decided if I did, the CRD would likely choose that day to start pinging me with Hard Questions, so I sat on the Green Couch watching all the dogz go by aaalllll day. I downloaded the book The Snow Child onto my phone that afternoon and read the whole dern thing.

I am not sick today. Just lazy. I did take my walk this morning but then I couldn’t get interested in doing anything constructive. Maybe it’s an effect of the swinging around I did yesterday. I dunno. I do know that slodging around this morning was driving me absolutely nuts so finally we got in the Frog Hopper, headed down to the river and out to the western regions of Washtenaw County, picking up some BIG cups of coffee out at Bearclaw on North Territorial. If we’re gonna be lazy, we might as well be lazy out in nature.

Randomly driving around on back roads, we screeched to a halt upon encountering a little preserve. We hadn’t really planned on hiking but the paths were mowed (yes, mowed), so we decided to take a look. Beautiful little place, West Lake Preserve. Except for the insects. It was fly-ey in the area where I took the pitcher but that was tolerable because they didn’t seem to be the biting kind. Then we got into the woods over by the lake. Mo-skee-toes? Yes. Not good. In my tank top and short [hiking] skirt, I was particularly unprepared so we eventually bailed. But we’ll return.

And that, my nine friends, is about it. Well, until this. I took a little walk through the schoolyard and woods late this afternoon. I encountered my dog friend Ginger and her often beleaguered owner. When the GG took a similar walk, he encountered this, uh, alien?

It is an odd thing to encounter in our normally quiet, friendly woods but I will never forget one hot, swampy summer when the beach urchins were small. We were sleeping in the back room with the doorwalls open to try to attain some semblance of coooooool. In the middle of the night, someone started “rapping” in the woods. It was a slow hot-summer-night kind of rap and not scary at all, just someone communing with god or the moon or whatever. The next day we found a partial bottle of Gatorade out there.

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