I’m reserving it for E. Jean Carroll. A heroine of mine. I have many heroines but this woman is (that I know of) one of the first women to actually receive payment from some people’s president (but not mine) for rape. I mean actual cash. He owes her a lot more than $5 mil but I doubt she’ll ever see the rest. I think that might be okay with her.

The first time I ever heard about E. Jean Carroll, I was driving back from the Jackson Rd. Meijer on a Saturday morning on Pratt Road and NPR was interviewing her about her experience with Trump in a Bergdorf Goodman’s dressing room. He raped her but she did what many well-adjusted “rich” women do, which is chalk it up to (a bad) experience and go on with life. That perked my ears up.

I can’t remember what year this was but I think it was in Trumpy’s first term. I know it was before COVID. Then a lotta stuff happened. Kelly Anne Conway (remember her?) and her lawyer husband George Conway divorced and he went splendidly rogue and left the Republican Trump party. I have no clue what Kelly Anne is doing these days but I haven’t heard anything about her for a long time. Probably it’s largely a mixed divorce not unlike my own mixed marriage.

George Conway convinced E. Jean Carroll that she could win a case against Donald J. Trump and found EXCELLENT lawyers for her. She agreed to this case because she cares about young and/or poor women who have been raped and don’t have a lot of support. And so do I. And she won, even winning some kinda right wing jurors.

If you are looking for something a little different to read? “Not My Type”, E. Jean Carroll’s memoir about the trial (and her life) was wonderful. I listened to the audio book last summer. It was narrated by the author and it was hilarious and fantastic.

So three times (phew!) this summer we have traveled to the yooperland for a stay at the moomincabin. We are trying to make these trips with one vee-hickle. I am no longer employed and the GG doesn’t have umpteen gazillion multi-day/week trips scheduled. So the one vee-hickle has been working out pretty dern well except for choosing a radio station but we are being polite to each other about that.

Each time we’ve traveled north, we’ve taken Mooon Yooonit. Mainly because she is loaded to the gills with chainsawing crapola. Why unpack her? I always leave a Cygnus X-1 fob just in case one of the beach urchins needs a car. So far nobody has needed one. Until today (we’re still here on The Planet Ann Arbor). One of the beach urchins was approaching the other one’s house when her car stopped functioning normally, ending with a coast into her sister’s driveway and some smoke. The GG drove over there and pronounced it un-driveable. If anyone could pronounce a car dead, it would be the GG, who put himself through college working at the Hamtramck Assembly Plant and has a lifetime of experience dealing with engines in general including a long career at That Darn EPA motor vee-hickle emissions lab. (He can do terlets too.)

So she is borrowing Mooon Yooonit for a few days. Problem? We have Mooon Yooonit scheduled for body repairs starting Monday and lasting for a couple weeks, if I get it right. We’re taking Cygnus up north this weekend for a couple weeks or whatever. The body repairs? They will fix some hit-and-run parking lot shit that NO ONE EVEN NOTICED FOR SEVERAL MONTHS! I agree that it should be fixed but in my not-so-humble-opinion it could’ve been scheduled a bit more mindfully, like when both of us are IN TOWN at the same time and can so ferry each other (and our kids) around and lend a vee-hickle out if need be.

It’s all okay and will get worked out. If any of the beach urchins are reading this, I am not really stressed out. Just another day in the life. I needed something to blahg about and I guess this is it. We won’t even talk about his call to Comcast. Short story? It ended well. We’ll see who they send out. Hillbilly, Santa Claus, or serial killer. Stay tuned.

This is my latest shelling pea harvest. It will be the last from the Planet Ann Arbor although I am hoping for some more from the reservation market in the yooperland.

This is what eight (quart?) boxes of shelled peas yielded. The GG asked if they were edible. Yes yes yes yes. Duh? He tried one (one?) and declared it was just like candy. And they are. That’s why I shell peas every summer besides that it’s a zen activity. It took me an hour and a quarter or so to shell eight boxes and it was well worth it. Except that someone’s dern dog was barking in the distance the whole time. Bark… space… bark… space… … bark. Chinese water treatment anyone? I like dogs but jeebus… I’m gonna cook some of these pease tonight and freeze the rest. Rice and walleye (a northern Michigan fish) are also on the menu.

Other than that, it was a pretty calm day. The GG drove up to visit our brother Florida Man (an hour or so north of here) so no one was frenetically washing and cleaning out automotive vee-hickles in the driveway (like yesterday), although they did need it so I really can’t complain. His visit with FlaMan was calmer than last Thursday’s visit, when four of us converged upon FlaMan at once and cacophony ensued.

Love y’all and g’night, KW.

I had a bit of a night of fitful sleep. It wasn’t toooo hot but I was kinda wondering if we should put the A/C on. Hmmm. Only a year ago or so, I was adamant that I didn’t want the A/C but I acquiesced when our friend Joan was visiting overnight and I really wanted her to feel comfortable. Guess what? I was comfortable too. Did that convert me to using A/C? Not exactly. I was still telecommuting full time last summer and it was never all that hot at the moomincabin. This summer? Heat dome after heat dome after heat dome here on The Planet. The moominbeach not so much but I am traveling back and forth this year…

Anyway, I was not asleep at 5:50 AM today so I got up, showered, and made a grokkery/chore list. By 10 of seven, I was at the farmers market and wouldn’t you know, one of my fave farmers STILL HAD SHELLING PEAS! This is LATE for shelling peas. We discussed this a bit. Him telling me these would probably be the last of the season. Me saying I was surprised to see them at all today. I went on to say I was traveling to the yooperland next week and at this time of year, I can get shelling peas there. He agreed with me and seemed to be impressed with my knowledge of shelling pea growing schedules.

I also bought lettuce, tomatoes and a few other things with deference to the current cyclosporiasis outbreak. “Explosive” diarrhea for two weeks? NO THANK YOU! We all cycled through a norovirus xmas 2024 but anything “explosive” (from either end) was VERY short lived. Two weeks? Nope. I also washed everything, not that it’ll necessarily make a difference.

We had a family dinner tonight with Liz/Aleks and a few Regenstreif cousins who are doing elder care, some of them from a distance. I have reminded them a few times that when I was in the throes of elder care, I was at least 10 years younger than they are now. It makes a difference but all of it is still hell on earth. Maybe someday I will write more about my journey(s) with my brother, dad, and mom (in that order). Not there yet. Or maybe ever. We’ll see.

Most of is are not real sports fans but Aleks navigated us to soccer stuff and some of us watched while others yapped. We all had a good time whatever we were doing! I cannot keep track of sports but I love to watch other people watch sports. I could not find the words for that if I tried.

The outhouse has been gone since the Jurassic Age. I’ll tell its story (again) some other day but the writing was on the wall when Chippewa County (or whatever) enhanced its rules and regs for septic fields and then escalated exponentially when The Commander acquired a daughter-in-law.

Say yes to indoor plumbing! I mean besides cold water running to the kitchen sink via a garden hose hooked up to my next door uncle’s well. I think this is maybe the second indoor toilet at the moomin but it could be the third. I blahg about toilets sometimes but I don’t really keep track of them too much. My brother installed this toilet but I guess he shoulda waited for Toilet Man (the GG) because, mechanical engineer that he was, he didn’t install it correctly, hence Toilet Man came along to save the day and re-install it correctly.

This is the current moomintoilet except with an old toilet seat he dredged up from the moomingarage installed. All kinds of treasures out in the garage. A brand spanking new state-of-the art seat was purchased today and is ready to be hauled up to the moomin and installed next weekend. The new seat goes down slowly and doesn’t slam if you happen to accidentally let go of it.

That blue stuff is “The Works” toilet bowl cleaner. It is the only toilet bowl cleaner I know of that removes the mineral stains that collect from our well water. I need some more of that stuff too. Next time the GG goes to the hardware store, I have a list for him.

You’re welcome.

This was the moominbeach sunset last night. Our last sunset until we travel back north and the next time we travel north, it had better be for more than a stinkin’ week.

It was a smooth trip except for the part I dreaded, which involved meeting one of our brothers in his hoosegow room this afternoon. I *think* it was the same hoosegow in which I held my little brother as he passed 21 years ago but it has since been bought out and revamped to the point it was unrecognizable to me today.

The brother (the GG’s brother) we visited today has fragile health but he was feisty as all getout today and I think/hope he has some get-along still going. I kissed him on the mouth twice today, hello and goodbye. Just a peck, not anything passionate. I know he likes to kiss “pretty girls” not that I am all that pretty these days. Is this TMI? I don’t give a flying f*ck. He’s my brother-in-law, we are fans of each other, and I love him, eccentric as he is.

It was a chaotic visit but not because of his health. He is struggling to keep track of various personal belongings including a wad of cash that I feel like we’ve been losing and finding for something like nine years, ever since the GG and I rescued him from a horrible living situation in Florida. The Lord and Lady of Linden (the GG’s sister and brother-in-law) met us in his room, an unexpected (for me) but happy event. And so ensued a couple hours of multiple people rummaging over and over through the umpteen bazillion plastic bags in the hoosegow room looking for missing/”stolen” items. In the end, I think everything including the cash was found or otherwise accounted for. I was tracking these conversations for quite a while but in the end, I started feeling a little seasick and me and the Lord of Linden did a sort of Irish goodbye, which prompted GG and the Lady of Linden to follow us.

I had no clue about what to cook for dinner tonight and did NOT want to go to the grocery store. Just about as I had cobbled together a sorta plan, a text came through from my cousins the Grand Poohbah and Le Marquis asking if we wanted to go out to dinner. Yes yes yes yes! They are here visiting her dad, My Dear Uncle Harry, in another hoosegow (his prognosis seems to be good, knock on wood). We will see them again on and off throughout the weekend, it sounds like. And maybe other relatives too.

Love y’all, KW

Not really. That is a *large* beer for the GG. Usually he only orders one that size after he’s hiked umpteen gazillion miles in hot sun or whatever and sometimes lately he prefers iced tea. Today, after a few days of hard labor, I think his goal was a nice long afternoon snooze and he did achieve that goal. Unfortunately (for him) he woke up to me trilling, “Honey, the terlet seat is broken!” So he has spent the last 45 minutes dredging up an old toilet seat from the garage and installing it until we can get a new one. Which we can’t, at least not immediately, because we are leaving for The Planet Ann Arbor tomorrow and have a sorta faar-drill day ahead of us involving FlaMan. Like I always say in defense of my own personal MAGA man, he can fix terlets!

We had a couple green bags to take to the “dump” today (official name is “trash compactor”) and I was adamant that this adventure would include lunch, not that I encountered any resistance to that. There are two restaurants (that serve beer, etc.) in the vicinity of the moomincabin and we chose Pickles. (There are lots of decent restaurants in Sault Ste. Siberia but we didn’t want to drive that far and it is also not in the direction of the dump.)

A good time as always. A young cousin of ours has just started working there. She was not our waitress (our waitress was wonderful) but we did get to talk to her. It was (as usual) almost empty at noon so she had a bit of time to chat. When she was a young child, she lived next door for a while and was always bopping in and out of the moomin. I would be telecommuting or whatever and she would come along and I would say, “He’s in the garage.” Whooosh! Off she would go to the garage.

P.S. We listened to the beginning of the Orange Baboon’s “speech” today on the way to Pickles and all I have to say is when he wasn’t ego-tripping, I couldn’t understand what the heck he was talking about. Thankfully, we got to Pickles 15-20 minutes into his “speech” and they had 80s/90s rock playing and it was a welcome relief from the OB.

Oh dear. I’ve had to be an adult this week. Yesterday morning, I got a FB DM from a friend asking about the property at the end of our beach. The property you can’t drive to easily, especially by the two-track road that runs behind the FinFam and McNott cabins on the beach. The cabins owned by our grandparents, who originally bought the property over 100 years ago. The land at the end of the beach is for sale (again) and her son and daughter-in-law want to buy it. Ugh.

Our cabin road deadends and everyone on the beach has been keeping it that way since before I was born when the people who bought the property at the end of the beach *then* wanted to use our road to get there. Nope. My grandfather fought back and eventually there was a (state) supreme court case that he/”we” won. There was some animosity and maybe even some gunshots but I don’t know the details. This happened before I was born and our 2-track still exists and still ends at the last piece of property on the road.

Yesterday, I had the difficult task of telling this woman (who was absolutely WONDERFUL to my mother) that the folks on our road are all united that we don’t want the road extended to the end of the beach. I had to phrase this carefully. I did reference the court case, which is publicly available information but I left a lot out, in part because, as I told my friend, I am not fluent with the details, having not been born yet. But also because it makes a friendly couple of families seem unfriendly… I’m outta words about that.

The GG went out on my brother’s namesake trail today with some folks from a land conservancy that we support and then he picked me up to come and meet them. Being the [friendly] introvert that I am I was reluctant at first but I did join them and OF COURSE it was the right thing to do. I was gabbling like crazy.

I don’t think they really understand how the families who own homes/cabins on the beach are connected. I kept saying things that they didn’t understand and then realizing something like why the hell would they know about this stuff? I will have to adjust my childhood stories so that people who don’t know the history of this beach like the back of their hands can understand them.

I love the new signs at the top of our road. But they don’t mean we are totally unfriendly. If you know us (like the folks we visited up on the escarpment today), you can drive down our road. Slowly. If someone confronts you, mention my name. If you know it.

Randomness… The chipmunk was found yesterday. The chipmunk that was running around *inside* the Landfill before we left for the moominbeach last week, digging into plant containers in our back living room and making a big mess. Fortunately we have two mature adult daughters in and near The Planet Ann Arbor and one of them agreed to go over and check out the Landfill specifically for the chipmunk.

Somehow the racc got tasked for that duty. He found the dead chipmunk under the piano and disposed of it. We all had some back and forth texts about this and I said it was a thankless duty. He said, “There’s only room for one rodent around these parts.” If you know my adult daughters’ names, you might guess who he’s talking about.

I am not keeping track of the heat dome since we don’t really have one on the Shores of Gitchee Gumee but my mouse and the racc have lost power at their house (a bit north of The Planet Ann Arbor) so they have been staying or at least showering at the Landfill. They have a well so when they lose power they also lose water. I have encouraged them to use our house and its central A/C and since we are currently traveling with one vee-hickle, I left a fob for the other vee-hickle just in case anyone needs it. I’m not totally keeping track of what anyone is actually doing. It’s been a long time since my ears were tuned (in the middle of the night) for the sound of The Indefatigable driving into the neighborhood three blocks away, meaning they were almost home. Oh, not that I did that every night…

This guy was listening to Janis Joplin last night after a long day of mowing grass and chainsawing sign obstructions at entrances to the North Country Trail. If you embiggen (and know what you are looking for), there is an upbound lake freighter out there. The GG is a trained, certified sawyer and was dressed in protective gear for both chainsawing and ticks.

So after the Piedy July 4th party last night, we came home and Le Marquis came over for a bit. We were all tired and thinking about going to bed.

We knew that there would be faaarworks across the bay at the Bay Mills Indian Community and so we were sorta waiting for that to start. And we are in the Great Not-so-white North so fireworks don’t start until something like 10:00 PM because the sun doesn’t set until almost then at this time of year.

We didn’t know if we could last until the fireworks started but in the end, we went down to the beach to watch whatever happened. Bay Mills did their usual thing but it’s a long way across the bay so it was hard to see. But! Our lifelong next door beach neighbors, the Piedmonts, put on a beautiful fireworks display and we watched it last night from the beach/bench until we were ready to turn in.

The first Piedmont July 4th party (that I remember) happened when I was about seven. I vaguely remember that party. I mean, I was probably running around like crazy with my cousins and the younger Piedmont gals. I think somebody grilled hot dogs and hamburgs (as my dad called them) on an old-fashioned grill. After dark, the older Piedmont brothers made a huge faaaaaar on the beach and us little kids made s’mores while they shot Roman candles off over the lake. I didn’t have crushes on any of those older boys but I greatly admired them. They were soooo cool.

Those cool guys are STILL cool but it is probably their sons and grandsons who are doing the fireworks these days. Much more spectacular fireworks than the Roman candles of our youth. I saw one of these guys being helped up off the beach by one of his children. I remember when he and his brothers helped my grandma Margaret get down to the beach. They had a reputation for being a bit wild (didn’t we all) but they were so kind and respectful to her. Mrs. Finlayson can we help you? Etc. Much later they helped my mother (also Mrs. Finlayson) get to the party one of the years I wasn’t there to help her. I learned a lot from that.

I’m off the rails here but what I’m trying to say is that my family and the Piedmonts have been beach neighbors my entire life and I loved the fireworks last night. I posted a few pics on facebook today and one of my best Piedmont friends Brigid commented that some folks were worried that their fireworks would be too loud. No No No No.

It is the 4th of July and that means it’s the annual Piedy beach potluck. I have known these folks my entire life, I love them, and I love talking to them but, being an introvert (albeit a friendly one), man oh man am I tired tonight.

So here’s a recycled photo from the past. The way back past. I’m not sure exactly the year but I’m thinking around 1960? It is eight of us FinFam cousins and we are about to embark on a 4th of July parade. Missing from the pic are our oldest cousin who probably had better things to do than dress up and “march” in a children’s parade and our youngest cousin who wasn’t born yet. And. My little brother, who was mad at our mom because she screwed up the taillights on his paper bag car costume and refused to participate. He is out of frame to the left.

This parade was planned to happen on the beach but in true yooperland fashion, the weather was colder than blue blazes so it was moved to the two-track cabin road, which is at least sheltered from the wind. So we are lined up behind the Old Cabin garage, which is really hard to see in the pic and is now long gone.

I can name each of these folks but I have no memory of what their costumes were. Like why is Grinch wearing a paper bag and why does Pooh have those paper plates over her face. I do know what I was wearing. I am the little hula girl and I absolutely REFUSED to wear a sweatshirt or shoes or anything that might’ve given me any degree of warmth. The grass skirt and lei were a gift from Granddaddy and Bolette, my Detroit grandparents, and I treasured them.

Maybe I shoulda said “used *bote*”. We were going out to lunch with the next door cousins and he already had his “boomer shorts” on. Yer fav-o-rite blahgger made him put his geezer motorbote shirt on. His ID twin also owns one of these. He got it from a “hoarder” neighbor at Hoton Lake and after I saw it, I went out to Etsy and found an identical one for the GG.

So, KW… What did you do on your 44th wedding anniversary. Besides going out to lunch, KW went to the grocery store and cooked lasagna sauce for the Piedy July 4th Potluck tomorrow. And… And… And…

Then… She told her *beloved* cousin Susie’s junior high (or high school?) boyfriend that Susie died a few months ago. First. I don’t think he was really her boyfriend and he didn’t identify himself as that but I’m guessing he might have thought (or hoped) he was her boyfriend. We’ve been facebook friends for many years (Susie never joined facebook) and he has told me a couple times that he used to walk her home from school “up Prospect”, the street she lived on. She was very popular as a teenager but I don’t actually remember her having any boyfriends then. But being five years younger what do I know? I do know that she was very particular about men and didn’t play her cards in that direction until she was damn good and ready. At one point, she brought a potential boyfriend to the moominbeach that we ALL liked very much. I told her he passed the “cabin test” and she replied that he also needed to pass “her test”. He didn’t but eventually somebody (Barry) did. I played my flute at their wedding. The one woman band. Barry predeceased his wife, my cousin.

Ben DM’d me today, asking if Susie was on facebook. Oh dear. Because I am five years younger than him and Susie, I have never met him in person (that I know of, he did go to my childhood church). What should I say? I started with, “Oh Ben. I hate to have to tell you this but…” I told him how special she was (even though he already knew that) and how much all of us “little” cousins loved her and that my kids and her kids played together at the moominbeach when they were young. I did not tell him how she died and I won’t report that here either.

After lunch and some exploring on the way home, the GG and my next door cousin Pooh spent the rest of the afternoon re-webbing decrepit old lawn/beach chairs while I watched, staying outta that particular fray.

I dunno how a person can burn a single frozen hash brown “patty” and a couple strips of pre-cooked bacon but I did it this morning. And I was standing right next to the stove.

Later in the morning, a bunch of us FinFam Yankcanucks got into emailing about birth/death dates and gravestones. Was anybody at the moomincabin and could they go look at the graves in Pine Grove cemetery? Well, yes, I was at the moomincabin. Not only that, Pine Grove is on the route between the moomin and Sault Ste. Siberia and I have been in that cemetery so many times in my life I know EXACTLY where the graves are.

As it turned out, images on Ancestry proved that our family stones did not yield any detailed information but Pooh and I were up for a field trip and the GG *adores* graveyards plus he wanted to go to the hardware store in Siberia so off we went.

As many times as I’ve been to the family plot, I came away with questions today. There’s this big Raeburn stone. My paternal grandmother’s last name was Raeburn but the only Raeburn I knew as a child was her sister (who lived in my grandparents’ attic). Other Raeburns lived in the area but we didn’t mix with them and I have never known exactly why, just snippets of overheard conversations.

I don’t think anyone is buried underneath that stone. I think it marks that this is a family plot. There are also six flat headstones (don’t worry, there won’t be a quiz):

— My paternal grandmother’s mom and dad (Jane Melissa and William Raeburn). Separate headstones.

— My paternal grandfather’s mom (Mary Finlayson). Her husband (Donald Manson Finlayson) was likely buried in northern Saskatchewan, which is where he died on a fur-trapping trip.

— My grandmother’s sister Anna Raeburn (the attic dweller).

— My grandfather’s sister Elizabeth Finlayson (who lived with my grandparents but not in the attic).

— My grandparents Donald MacKenzie and Margaret Finlayson (joint headstone).

Nobody in the next generation or later is in Pine Grove. Some people think my mother wanted to be put into a cemetery. Bad daughter that I am, I never really had a conversation with her about that. I’m pretty sure neither my brother or dad wanted to be buried and they aren’t, their ashes are in boxes at the moomincabin. If mom had indeed wanted to be buried, I’m pretty sure her choice of cemetery would be Newburg, not Pine Grove. Newburg is where her parents and other elders were buried, in what is now Livonia, MI. I’ve been to Newburg a few times in my life too. Although the GG and I once had a devil of a time finding it, once we got there, I quickly found the MacMullan plots. For now though, she is at the moomin with her husband and son and any beach urchins who happen to be visiting.

That’s my wee bit of genealogy for today. I am not gonna frequently bore y’all with that kind of stuff but those paltry few headstones brought up a lot of questions for me that I will be cogitating on for a while. Most of them I cannot even put in words yet.

The other thing that is significant about Pine Grove Cemetery, at least to my childhood nuclear family, is that it is on a corner. When you drive south on old US2 from Sault Ste. Siberia it crosses 6 Mile Road. If you turn right onto 6 Mile you are going to the moomincabin. When I was a kid, if you did not make that turn, you were going to the vet. My dog Tigger *adored* the moomin, the vet not so much. She would be an absolute nervous wreck until we got to that intersection and adjust her anxiety level depending on whether or not we made that right turn.

Lastly, the Yankcanuck is an old, now scrapped, lake freighter once owned by a Canadian man and his American wife. I think it’s a label that befits those of us “lost Canadians” who were born in the US.

By hook or by crook, I was gonna angle for lunch on the way from the Planet Ann Arbor to the moomincabin today. As luck would have it, we met up with the Uncly Uncle and The Beautiful Gay (TBG) in Gaylord. When these folks originally moved to Gaylord, there were frequent jokes about being Gay in Gaylord. Gay is really more of a city girl but over the years she has adjusted to Gaylord (that’s my opinion, I certainly can’t speak for her). Anyway, Gaylord has always been a bustling crossroads and is becoming more of a “city”, albeit a small one. Lotsa big box stores, including Ulta Beauty. Unlike yer fav-o-rite blahgger, TBG takes more than 30 seconds to put eye makeup on and always looks gorgeous. She puts up with me anyway.

Not long after we were seated at the restaurant, the skies opened up, as you can see. Of course everybody (aka the Twinz of Terror) was taking pictures. The UU was remembering a previous meeting at the same restaurant (we weren’t at that meeting) that was interrupted by tornadoes rolling through town. Today’s storm did not develop any tornadoes.

It was our server’s first day and TBG and I exchanged glances when she couldn’t figure out that “a glass of cabernet” meant something like red wine. TBG, having worked as a restaurant/bar server for more years than I’m strong enough to count, stepped in to help this obviously terrified young woman navigate the situation. Later, when she arrived with a full platter of plates, TGB told her about the time she had dropped a similar tray and everyone clapped. Our plates were delivered without incident and TBG refrained from telling about all the times she cried in restaurant bathrooms because of mistakes or ill treatment from rude, entitled customers. That is she refrained from telling the server, she certainly told us. I don’t have food service experience but I’ve done retail and I *always* try to treat servers well AND tip them well, even if things were not perfect. Even the best servers are sometimes dealing with horrific scenes in the background and I like to give them the benefit of the doubt, i.e., sometimes their imperfect service is not their fault.

But here we are at the moomin. When we left here the last time, it was in the 50s. It was 80 when we got here today and the first thing I did was open all the windows and put the screens in the doors. I AM SOOOOOO MISSING HAVING SOME BEACH URCHINS HERE! I love them all!

That is a rough approximation of the noise my old (movie star looking) coot used to make when he was imitating shooting a pistol, with his finger, and usually at The Commander. Even though I grew up hearing that noise, the GG is much better at producing it and some of its more unpronounceable consonants (at least in our native English language).

That’s what I feel about today, which was a 3-ring circus. First of all, mired in multiple loads of laundry, I MISSED MMCB’s Zoom Coffee call. Totally. For a half hour. I keep my phone on silent and I think I was in the basement with it in my pocket when she called. She was a bit alarmed when I didn’t answer (and didn’t answer (and didn’t answer)). Was I okay? Oops, yes, just mortified. She is leaving for a a couple weeks in the Azores and I was looking forward to talking this morning. I totally spaced it out.

Other things that happened today (besides some unblahggable issues — nothing bad, just annoying) include a chipmunk trying to build a nest in a plant pot in the back room and a POWER OUTAGE!!! Fortunately we have a “portable” generator, which kept the refrigerator cold and my phone charged for the duration. We were running the A/C, which we can’t power with the generator but fortunately it isn’t the 100 degrees they are predicting for tomorrow, only 91, and with the house shut up, it didn’t get hot. With luck we’ll be on the moominbeach by end-of-day tomorrow. Where it almost never gets extremely hot.

Anyway, I was in a pretty good tizzy for a while this afternoon. Things have settled down now. Knock on wood!

That’s my young dad (high school probably?) shooting an actual pistol out over the water at the moominbeach. He wasn’t shooting *at* anything. I don’t know that he *ever* shot at anything except maybe targets or old logs or whatever. In the Army Air Corps, he was teaching people to fly planes in the American southwest, not shooting at “enemy” soldiers although I am sure he was trained to do that and would have if that duty had called. I’d like to think he would have hated killing soldiers on “the other side”.

I wasn’t born until many years after this photo was taken but I know this shoreline like the back of my hand. And I remember (among other things) this guy carrying me in his arms out from the Old Cabin to the beach to look at the stars or freighters or whatever. Love you dad.

No, this is not the Yellow Cup. The Yellow Cup was a sippy cup at the Landfill when the beach urchins were toddling around. I remember mouse yelling “yellow cup yellow cup yellow cup” as an emergent talker.

This is Aqua Cup and it was one of a set of four at the moldy old cabin at Hoton Lake back in the day. Red, pink, aqua, and army green, of all things. When they were very young, the beach urchins used to fight over the pink cup. I knew that they would eventually outgrow all things pink and when they started fighting over the army green cup as tweens, all I could do was roll my eyes.

For quite a few years after we razed and rebuilt the cabin at Hoton Lake, some of those cups were still around but I haven’t seen one recently. R.I.P.

Neighbors? Neighbors? We met them today. I liked them a lot. One of them is a police officer who said she would watch our house while we were away. I love having a police officer next door although we have had (knock on wood) NO crime problems in the 42 years we’ve lived here. I also know that one’s neighborhood is only safe until it’s not and it was a very friendly gesture. I didn’t catch the other neighbor’s name or occupation but that’s probably because she is about to give birth, which usurped all other conversation. Both of them are very friendly.

The yard sign came back. I’m still not sure who I’m gonna vote for but I am not anti Yousef. At least the neighbors are not MAGA, not that very many folks around here *are*, except for my own personal warlord [snort].

We have new neighbors again. When we arrived back on The Planet Ann Arbor last Wednesday, the real estate sign next door was gone and there was a handmade Yousef Rabhi sign out there. And no one around. The only thing I could think was that the new neighbors were Yousef fans? I dunno. I have my August primary ballot sitting next to me here and I do not know who to vote for. The other night, I asked npJane what “The Friends” thought. They are much more up on local politics than I am but I am still not sure who I will vote for.

The Yousef sign was gone the next morning, which makes me wonder if his campaign had “bombed” the new neighbor with the sign since it was obvious no one was living there for the moment? Who knows.

This afternoon, I relocated to the back yard. I had my earbuds in so I could listen to Maggie O’Farrell’s Land without disturbing the GG. I heard the doorbell ring. I did not get up (from the back yard) to answer it. I figgered the GG was inside the Landfill and he could damn well answer it himself. Turned out HE DIDN’T EVEN HEAR THE DOORBELL! He had ear buds in too. I dunno. I can hear just about anything through my earbuds. At any rate, I hope it wasn’t our new neighbors. As I tell every new neighbor, “I am a friendly introvert”, meaning, well, I dunno, I won’t be borrowing cups of sugar from you or spreading “tea” across the back fence but I am not unfriendly.

Writing that title, I am thinking of the many times in my life when I was in an automotive vee-hickle and had to PEE. Like all the times I was out with my parents rolling slowly along the eastern yooperland forest roads. You could pee out there with no one seeing you but when you were very young, you probably needed some help.

Fast forward until I was an elementary school kid, 9 or 10 or so. The Commander (in a sweeeet voice): We’re having a bathroom party do you want to join us? I looked at them (peeing) on a little bit of a hill off the road and I was like, no thanks. I was at an age where I didn’t need help to pee but I did need privacy. I don’t remember exactly what happened that day. I may not have HAD to pee but if I did, I think my parents respected my privacy and found me a place NOT on an exposed hill. Or maybe it was after that incident that they did. But they did understand. Like our daughter is gonna be a teenager sooner than later whether we want her to grow up or not…

Outdoor peeing (and a goddamn outhouse at the moomincabin) was good training for boyfriends and husbands and little kids and that’s about all I can coherently say about all of that. Here at The Landfill it’s not fancy but we have all of the utilities that a modern house has.

Up at the moomincabin, it isn’t fancy but we have everything except central heat and air and insulation. And most of us kinda like it that way.

Oh. We do have a big-screen TV as you may be able to see in the pic.

The title means that I was too slow getting up to get to the farmers market to get shelling peas at 0-skunk-30 this morning. Instead, the GG drove me down there mid-morning and waited while I dived in to get 8 quarts of those things. Thanks for the ride, Sir.

Love y’all, KW.

Cast of characters: The GG, Kayak Woman, and a cameo appearance by our friend John

GG: Sparrow??? [meaning he was walking through Kerrytown and did I need anything from Sparrow Meats]

KW: Um… ask if they have duck breasts. Also we haven’t had a chicken in a while [actually we have had chicken a lot lately (see yesterday’s entry) but we haven’t had a WHOLE chicken]

GG:

KW: ?? [Like I asked you a yes/no question and you sent me a random pic. Is this the butcher and if so, is he saying yes or no to duck breasts? Because his expression is inscutable]

GG: okay [still not a yes/no answer]

KW: Okay. I think they come in packs of 2… … … [this message didn’t get sent because KW was so discombobulated about the picture and “okay” answer, she CALLED the GG]

THE END.

I dunno if this little play makes sense or not. To me it is typical men are from Mars, women are from Venus speech. This gets worse the longer you are together but with luck, it also gets funnier. The pic is of John, a very long time friend, and I was embarrassed that I didn’t recognize him immediately. I hope he doesn’t mind that I posted his pic but I don’t think he knows about this blahg. His first wife Paula may have known about it but she has been dead since 2004. I still miss working with her back in the crazy YAG days. Her sense of humor helped keep me sane although it often made me just about fall off my chair laughing. John has been happily married to his second wife, a friend to both of them, for quite a few years now and I think Paula would have approved.

The GG did get four duck breasts (as requested) and a whole chicken. When he got home, he pulled the garbage and recycle bins up and opined that they were really stinky, adding that if *he* could smell them, they had to be pretty bad. Indeed, since one of my “jobs” around here has become to sniff his hiking clothing with my super nose to determine if it needs a bath. Yes, usually. TMI?

We had many mini-marital moments during our trip to Metro this morning to drop off our Bonus Daughter and her cat scratcher, which she had some trouble getting baggage-checked but finally managed to do it. Rush hour traffic was pretty awful although we had no slowdowns on the way TO Metro, which was a blessing. Plenty of “gasping” (at the terrible drivers all around us) from the passenger seat (meeee). Our gal travels all over the world all the time and she is adept at getting to and from airports on her own but there was no way we were gonna leave her to somebody else for this morning’s airport run. She’s ours and we’ll get her there safely. And we did and she got home to Hawaii (non-stop) safely and I think she met a friend at the gym after that… … …

Every person who has spent time at the moominbeach learns (over and over and over) the number one rule: WE DON’T THROW SAND! It’s an important rule, mainly because sand can get into your eyes, etc., which is not a fun experience.

As you can see, this cousin in the Gen 4 FinFam generation is teaching a couple of cute young Gen 5-ers how to get sandy. She was an expert in her day and I will never forget The Commander saying (somewhat disgustedly), “She has a CUP of sand in her crotch.” My mother was never one to mince words although her grammar was impeccable.

Another crucial rule was DO NOT GO IN THE WATER WITHOUT GETTING AN ADULT TO WATCH YOU! Me and my “triplet” cousins broke that rule twice that I can remember. When we were two (and I only vaguely remember this), we sneaked out of the Old Cabin and made our way down to the edge of the water in our little Keds sneakers. We were standing there when one of the adults scooped us up. Later, when we were five, we had learned to swim, including how go under water. One day we walked down to Doelle’s (“Doley’s”), which we were allowed to do unaccompanied as long as we didn’t go in the water. On the way back, we started daring each other to go in and then under the water. It was maybe knee deep but you can drown in any depth of water. Did we get in trouble on those occasions? I think we probably did but I don’t remember being severely traumatized by either event.

I’ll leave you with this photo of my little brother (Gen 3, like me), and three of the Sherman brothers, getting sandy. Brother is on the left. The Sherman boys are not related to us, just good family friends who used to park their VW bus and popup camper in our parking place for a couple weeks in the summer.

And so goodnight. I seem to be cooking BBQ chicken a lot lately but with yet another landfill dinner tonight, it was the thing to do mainly because I have the BBQ sauce recipe embedded in my brain. Mashed potatoes, garlic bread, and a caprese-style salad accompanied it with homemade cherry pie courtesy of Pengo Janetto for dessert. We are driving her to Metro in the morning and will miss her terribly.