That’s what one of my daughters said once. The other one would often say things like, “I’m going to find a*nother* mother.” You might be able to guess which one said which.

Whatever they said as young children, I seem to be stuck to them. I am happy about that. I know that there are adult children who have distanced themselves from their parents. That hasn’t happened to me, thank whatever god-like entities might actually be watching over me. I don’t think it’s because I’m some super mom. In fact I have made umpteen bazillion parenting mistakes. The Reading Chair and Dark Walk and Indian In The Cupboard On The Beach were not mistakes but we’ll go there some other day.

I don’t really want to talk about how good or bad a parent I was/am. It’s about the fact that I AM a MOM. I am many other things, used-to-be musician, on-again-off-again fiber artist, systems analyst, etc. Whatever else I am, I am still a mom.

Today was one of a series of travel days for my children. I mean that one of them left today to drive from the moomincabin to the Planet Ann Arbor. I don’t actively worry about my children when they are traveling and they are GOOD about texting when they are in a safe place (for texting) like a rest area or gas station or whatever. Or HOME! But I am always a wee bit on edge when they are on the road or flying or whatever. And I am always glad to get that 🏡. That simple text is all I need and when I got it today, I relaxed.

The pic is older than dirt. I was in my later 30s (and I’m looking like my dad in this particular photo). Those children have long been independent adults. We look loverly together there on that bench in front of the McNott cabin but that doesn’t mean that an hour later, after we returned to the moomincabin, one of us (maybe me) didn’t have a tantrum or whatever. I’m not saying anyone *had* a tantrum, just that it could well have happened and I just don’t remember 🤣

My moominbeach impatiens are happy as hell today because although you might not be able to tell, we got a gully washer this afternoon. Beautiful beautiful rainstorm. No thunder. That would’ve been fun but we’ll take what we can get. My mouse had watered the impatiens yesterday thinking they looked a little dry (I agreed) but natural rain is the best for flowers and we got it in spades this afternoon. We have tons of impatiens. This is only one pot.

After the rainstorm, the winds switched to the northwest and now there is a good windstorm coming on to the moominbeach.

My favorite Kamala story of the day (yes I am a supporter)? She and Walz were at a rally in Detroit (I think). People in the crowd started chanting “Lock Him Up”. Meaning Trump of course. Kamala? She regained control of the crowd and said something like, “No. The courts will settle that. We’re gonna beat him in November.” To my mind, she knows he is a convicted felon (and not an appropriate president) but she has decided to “go high” as the Obamas have said. And no, MAGA, the Obamas do NOT control the presidency. That’s a conspiracy theory.

On the other hand, I half-heard Trump going on and on about how to pronounce Kamala’s name? That is a campaign strategy? Whut? Please y’all let’s get rid of this orange idiot. I hope “we” do beat him in November but I am on the edge of my seat about that. But go Kamala.

Oh, BTW, when we are woken up at 10:40 PM, by someone who has droven in, we are not up for cocktails. We luv y’all anyway but just sayin’ 🐽

What did I do today?

I cooked bacon and hash browns for breakfast. I stayed outta the fray while my mouse did the dishes and made a breakfast bagel sandwich for the Racc, who (alas) had to leave this morning.

I went to Meijer for the second day in a row. I did not plan on that but it was what it was. I went to Meijer three days in a row last week. I don’t think I will have to go there again until Saturday.

I went SWIMMING today!!! Actually that means I walked out to where the water was waist deep. I’m not sure if I was beyond the second sandbar or not. I kinda lost count. And then I dunked. It was very hot on the beach this afternoon and it felt really good to dunk in Gitchee Gumee. I also felt/feel really clean.

A beach urchin was floating in one of the alien entities. She had her phone and a book with her.

I cooked salmon piccata for dinner. The Mean Old Grunchie Old Grinchie had made noises about coming over for cocktails and dinner but although he drove by on the back road, he never showed up. It’s okay. We never really know if he will show up or not but we are flexible and we love him anyway.

We ate on the moomindeck and then my mouse and I did the dishes and then we tried to go back outside but the MOE-skee-TOES drove us back inside.

We are fam-i-leeee. I’ve got all my cousins and me.

G’night.

Can I allow myself to be cautiously optimistic? About the upcoming election, that is? I didn’t know much about Tim Walz at all but what little I’ve seen about him since the pick, I like. I love love love our own governor Big Gretch but my eyes were actually on Mark Kelly. I don’t think a two-woman ticket would fly in any way shape or form although I think women are just as capable of running countries as men are. I hope against hope our country is ready for a female president, not to mention a woman of color. I am certainly ready for any color besides orange. But the Great Lake State needs Gretchen until her term ends. After that, if she wants to run for president, I am all for it.

From what sound bites I’ve heard about Walz, I don’t quiiite understand why a person who owns gun(s) can be labeled a communist or socialist or or even far left radical. I mean, since Trump hi-jacked the GOP (and YES MAGA, he DID hi-jack it, don’t argue with me), *I* have been called many of those labels and *technically* *I* am a gun owner albeit I have inherited those guns and have never shot one in my life. And I don’t intend to unless big bugs from outer space invade the earth. On the other hand, does anyone think that “communists” don’t use guns? Kim Jong Un, anyone? Is he really a communist or just a regular old dictator? I don’t really know where I’m going with this but if we are going to use labels to put people into boxes, we need to define those labels.

A fun conversation with various people interrupted this and I have totally lost my train of thought. There are all kinds of exotic sunset pictures and I have taken a few of them myself. This is a bit of a different kind of sunset pic but I think it qualifies. I took a few similar ones but I liked this one the best partly because the Old Cabin is in the background.

Love y’all, g’night, KW.

The photo is one my mouse sent me from her adventure hiking on the North Country Trail over near Marquette, Michigan. I was surprised (but not that surprised) to hear that Marquette has a Meijer store. I think the Sault Ste. Siberia Meijer was the first yooperland store (pre covid). I have Planet Ann Arbor friends from the Marquette area who were amazed that *we* had a Meijer at that time. Now the Marquette friends have a Meijer too. I love that and also love that my mouse and racoon are camping a few miles away from the Marquette Meijer. Plus they are camping right next to the North Country Trail.

I posted the frog picture because… This afternoon, I heard a lot of noise a couple of cabins down. That cabin had a faaaar back in the spring. It was built before I was born and a family of nine children spent time there. They didn’t spend the whole summer at their cabin like my family did but their home in town was on the river so if the water was calm enough they would drive their motorbote up the river from their house to their cabin. The dad (a friend of my dad’s) would drive the bote right up onto the beach and all the kids would jump out.

So many years later, the oldest daughter and her husband own that cabin. Alas, it caught on faaar in the spring. They have decided to tear it down and rebuild it. I have pictures of the demolition but I am not going to post them because I think this is extremely difficult for my childhood friend. Even though I doubt she knows I am a blahgger.

I actually read an entire book today. It’s been a while since I’ve done that. I encountered the book (The Caretaker by Ron Rash) on NPR a while back and I loved it. We won’t talk about the book I read before that. It included ghosts of all sorts, some “real” and some not, and all kinds of family drama that I couldn’t totally parse. Editor anyone?

This is my 30-something daughter doing something with her iPhone at the moomincabin. I birthed this daughter (my first of two) when I was 30.

At that time, we didn’t have cell phones at all, at least those of us who were driving our babies around in little Ford Fiestas didn’t. The moomincabin did not have a telephone at all. Or maybe it did. I’m not exactly sure when we first got telephones here. My doctor-uncle had one forever but that was because docs need to be on call to deliver babies or sew people’s noses back onto their faces or whatever. My uncle was a talented GP and did a whole lot of things, baby delivery being one of them and maybe one of the more fun things, at least most of the time.

My old coot was an early adopter of cordless phones (at least on the moominbeach) and I remember him sitting on the beach calling his childhood friend Ag on her cordless two cabins away.

Eventually I got my first iPhone (2007) and when I came up here with it I was totally astounded that I could actually post something to the internet with my phone, not via the dial-up modem. It was slow but it worked.

Fast forward through 4G and DSL modem and eventually fiber optic… People who hear that I telecommute from the moominbeach often ask how my service is. It is top notch!

BTW this dates meeeee but the person in the photo is at the upper end of 30-something. But isn’t she beautiful?

Yesterday I got a *text message* saying that the GG’s absentee ballot had been received and checked in but mine had not. I mailed mine last Monday from the moominbeach (aka the Brimley post office) so I was a little worried. This afternoon I got an *email* from a2.gov saying my ballot had been received, signature verified, and checked in. Ready to be counted when the time comes.

Okay. After discussing this with the GG, my brain lit a light bulb. Wait! Ballot status is a private matter between the voter and the governmental unit collecting and processing the ballots. It isn’t any of their business whether or not they’ve received your spouse’s ballot, assuming your spouse voted (mine did). Not to mention the message came from an odd non-A2 phone number and not *exactly* an 800 number either. So probably some kind of weird “phishing” scam? At least I did not try to reply to it.

Anyway, the GG and I both voted (he was also notified by email). We probably canceled each other’s votes out but since he fixed the shower head and a whole bunch of other crapola in this quirky old cabin today, I think I will keep him around ANYWAY.

A “boring” day around here. The first thing was that when I went to put the shower head up into its holder, the holder fell apart. Like broken plastic. Okay, I guess my solo trip to the laundromat will have to morph to include the GG because he will have to go to the hardware store to buy a part to fix the shower head. Well. Also. Maybe he can return the empty beer/water cans as well. While I monitor the laundry.

We were (minorly) worried that a part for the shower fixture might not be available and we’d have to buy a whole new shower head. A part was readily available and that part was easy. Returning the cans? Three stops! I suggested Pat’s grocks but their can return didn’t open until 10 AM. So he went to Walmart and their can return was closed because they are apparently re-doing the whole thing. So he ended up at Meijer, which was where I tried to return cans a few days ago but couldn’t because the musheens were blocked by people with carts full of cans. Himself? He was alone in the can return area today.

Later, Himself and Le Marquis both suggested to just leave the cans there or offer them to other customers. Duh? Why the heck did I not think of that? I maybe had five dollars worth of cans. I would have been happy to donate that to someone who needed a bit of extra cash. Live and learn.

Oh yeah, and then Lizard Breath and I took a Green Bag of Garbage up to the “new” “dump” on the res. Partly so she would know where it was and how it works — you stop and a friendly gentleman comes out and takes your garbage bag(s) out of your trunk. LB was lucky enough to get a mini-tour of where the “old” dump was. The one I went to with my parents when I was a kid. We saw Le Marquis and The Grand Poohbah biking to the Dancing Crane Coffeehouse on our way back but we didn’t honk at them. Partly because we didn’t recognize them until we were past them but also because I don’t like to honk at pedestrians or cyclists.

This area is not known for an abundance of fancy cuisine but there are some pretty good restaurants around. When I’m here and want to eat at a restaurant, I prefer to go out to lunch and spend the evening at the moomincabin. Unless the weather is bad, I prefer restaurants that are nearby, meaning in the town of Brimley or on the res. Less driving time allows us more beach time.

Pickles was our choice today and we were able to snag a table on the deck (it was not busy in the early afternoon). I always get the same thing, the one-piece whitefish basket. I eat the coleslaw that comes with it (even though it’s mayo based, long discussion about mayo at lunch) but I never eat more than a few of the chips. The fish does not disappoint.

This view from our table got me in a bit of a story-telling mode. I am not sure exactly how true this story is but it’s one I’ve been told multiple times in my life and my daughters have heard it too. I can’t verify it because the original source (my grandmother) is long gone as are almost all of my parents’ generation. Whatever, it’s a good story.

In the pic, we are looking at Bay Mills Point. It is a mile or so from the little burg of Brimley (on the map it’s along the green lines indicating Highway 221 through town). The red line I drew on the map is where the remains of a train trestle lie sunken under the water. At least my busy little brain *thinks* that’s the location of the trestle. As the ACTUAL location is known, I guess I could look it up but I’m not gonna do it tonight. But it doesn’t really matter for the story. A train trestle used to cross the bay. (The moominbeach is about three miles to the right – east – of Brimley.)

My grandmother lived in Bay Mills when she was a teenager and attended high school in Brimley. At that time, the Bay Mills area was heavily industrial (now it is totally residential, homes and seasonal cabins). Trains crossed the bay to and from Bay Mills on the trestle and so did high school kids like my grandmother. My grandmother was born in 1888 so if you do the math, you may realize there weren’t a lot of automotive vee-hickles around when she went to high school, so no school bus.

The story is that when a train came along, my grandmother and her friends had to climb down over the side of the trestle to let the train by. I have a pretty hard time visualizing this but that’s what I’ve been told. I *imagine* that since the train’s terminus (I think) was in Bay Mills, it was not traveling at a great speed when crossing that trestle in either direction.

How’d it get to be August? I do not know. As much as I hate to leave here I probably should go back down to the Landfill for a couple weeks before one final moominbeach hurrah before the snow flies. But not quiiiiite yet. If at all… … …

Quick quick quick run to Meijer this morning for more grocks if you can believe it. Only one bag’s worth though. Probably need to make another run tomorrow though because we ran out of propane while grilling “hamberders” tonight (plus more grocks). After the propane miscalculation, much discussion ensued about how pink was too pink. I always buy top grade ground beef or sirloin. I wasn’t worried about it but I understand that others are. The burgers were a special request from the GG. We don’t eat them often. It’s a bun problem mainly. If I could buy burger buns individually, we’d have them a lot more often but two people cannot eat eight burgers (and their buns) in one sitting and burger buns do not do well in the freezer in my opinion. Tonight we had enough people around to actually eat most if not all of the burgers and their buns.

I am laughing because the beach urchins were discussing whether or not to take towels and bathing suits and things off the clothesline for the night. As a kid, I was totally OCD about pulling everything off the line before going to bed at night. Now? Eh. Not so much. Not that that’s a good thing. In the end, tonight, we decided it was probably okay to leave things on the line overnight. It ain’t gonna rain and it ain’t gonna get cold. I don’t think. So.

That is about all I have. I didn’t think I had anything but sometimes when you let your thoughts simmer and life is going on around you, things start bubbling up, boring as they may be.

Photo from the deck a few days ago during the gully washer that washed away the Pinesol smell.

Love y’all. G’night, KW.

Recycle and grocks today. The moomincabin is not a large space so I am constantly dealing with garbage and reeeecycle and whatever.

Today I had quite a bit of recycle and a ton of grocks to buy so I headed in to town (Sault Ste. Siberia). I had my recycle stuff in re-useable grock bags so I took that stuff first, then bought umpteen bazillion things at Meijer. Yikes. How many people did I ask for help finding something? 1) Garlic cloves. 2) Evaporated milk. 3) That water that my husband always buys but I couldn’t remember the name. Oh yeah, La Croix. I am friendly to all these people and joked around with all of them. And when I found the La Croix (in the next aisle) I yelled over the wall, “La Croix, I found it!”

I was annoyed that I had a grock bag full of empty returnable cans but I could NOT return them. Why? There were three can return musheens and ALL of them were in use by women with carts FULL of cans. I did not have time to wait for them and was pretty annoyed. Much later, after a convo with a beach urchin, I wondered if they were collecting cans to supplement their income. I have known people who, even with well-paying jobs, collect cans. Still, maybe Meijer needs an express return musheen for people with small numbers of cans because now there’s a grocery bag of cans rattling around in the back of Cygnus.

A beach urchin engineered and cooked dinner tonight and just as we were about to eat, our neighbor-cousin The Mean Old Grunchie Old Grinchie appeared by the back deck. He needed some phone help (charging cable) and we helped him with that but we also snagged him for a cocktail and dinner. And then. We snagged the Old Cabin neighbor-cousins for a wee partay on the moomindeck to connect with our mutual cousin (The Grinchie).

Both beach urchins are here tonight 🧡 and their SOs will be here tomorrow. Love our time together admidst our cousins. Miss the two generations that precede us on this beach.

I was listening to an NPR talk show where Kamala’s views were being discussed by various guests. This was NOT an interview with Kamala or a campaign event. They were discussing her views throughout her career and the pros and cons of those as they may help or hurt her campaign. They said some things that were hard to hear for a Kamala supporter. They are going to do the same thing with JD tomorrow. I intend to listen to tomorrow’s show too (if I get home from the grocery store in time). Why? Because although I’ll admit I have some preconceived ideas about both candidates, I want to hear what others have to say. Presumably others who are getting more than the sound bites of information I listen to.

This was rankling to those who don’t agree with my political opinions. I won’t go too far into that bit of “fun” marital strife but at one point, the question asked was something like, since Trump is the other candidate for president, why don’t they discuss his views? For one thing, I don’t think the focus of this show was to compare presidential candidates. It was more to compare “unknowns”. Kamala and JD are not unknown so to speak but they are not well known for their political backgrounds. At least not to the general American public. And yes, Kamala is the current veep. But we never really get to know most veeps very well, do we?

But… WE ALREADY KNOW TRUMP’S VIEWS! We have endured one presidential term under him already. His views? His views are whatever he thinks his current audience will respond to. A few things? Immigration? He hates immigrants. Apparently. Yet he has married two immigrants. Dictators? He loves dictators. He and Kim Jong Un “love each other?” Say what (and not even to mention his “relationship” with Putin)? Make no mistake. I believe every dictator on earth sees Trump as a stupid patsy that they could “potentially” use to their advantage. We won’t even talk about the choice issue. How many abortions has he paid for? Infrastructure week? I don’t think that ever happened, did it? Those are just a few examples.

Well, where was I? Dinner happened before I could finish this. Grilled duck breast, brown rice, broccoli and more of the peas I shelled in my back yard. The wind came up this afternoon but is dying down now. It is still pretty warm, probably in the 70s. So I’m not sure what all I said earlier but I will listen to whatever radio show I want to. At least NPR hosts do not scream and yell and hurl epithets this way and that.

The sailbote belongs to my cousin’s son aka my first cousin once removed.

Except he’s probably anything Western European except Scot. French? Irish? German? Would be fun to find out his DNA analysis, not to mention his ID twin’s. Up to him/them though.

He picked a really hot sticky day to swab the deck. Oh, not anywhere near 100. Maaayybeee the lower 80s but humid and fly-ey on the beach, which is where I decamped to when he started this swabbing operation. An operation I am ecstatic about. Himself: “At least it isn’t black any more.” I could smell the Pinesol from the beach. It’s not my fave smell but I lived.

Meeeee? My first day of vacation? Filled out my absentee ballot (August primary) and drove it up to Brimley to hand-deliver it to the post office. Bought band-aids at the park store on the way back. Also bacon and frozen hash browns (staples around here in the summer). They did not have walnuts or any other kinds of nuts that I could find but did have chia seeds? Whut? Later on, the GG was able to find walnuts at the Brimley Dollar Store which he went to for Pinesol. Go figger.

Thunderstorms rolled all around us most of the day but although we got a good rainstorm in the afternoon, anything severe was always in the distance. We needed what rain we got and it seems to have eradicated the Pinesol smell.

Young adult cousins visited the moomindeck in the evening to get lightly ‘hattan-ized and many interesting conversations ensued. I’ll leave you with this loverly ditty about Vernher von Braun (who the GG is currently reading about). One never knows what topics of conversation will come up at the moominbeach.

G’night, KW

We have a new (sharp) kitchen knife here courtesy of a beach urchin. I TOOK THE PLASTIC BLADE GUARD off today and used it to cut up some scallions. It was wonderful. I then washed it off and put it in the dish drainer to air dry.

When I went to put the blade guard on again, I somehow slipped and the blade made the teensiest tinesiest little nick in my right thumb. For a moment or two it looked like it hadn’t even broken the skin but alas a drop of blood eventually made an appearance. And being a finger, more and more blood followed. Could I find a bandaid? I could not find an appropriate bandaid to save my life.

Eventually I prevailed upon the GG, who supposedly has a first aid kit at the ready for North Country Trail hikes. We’ll talk about that some other time (or not). EVENTUALLY, he found a few bandaids and I put one on the cut on my thumb. After all of that, I realized there was also blood on my right index finger and that it was enough blood that it probably hadn’t just dripped off my thumb. Yes, I had also nicked my index finger. I didn’t even notice when that happened.

Eventually I got both cuts bandaged up – and NOTE that these are the miniest of mini cuts. Bandaged, I managed to assemble enchiladas WITHOUT getting any blood in them or even touching them with my bandaids. But then… LATER… I took the bandaid off my thumb cut and after I immersed my hand in dishwater it started bleeding again. I AGAIN bandaged it but somehow in the process I accidentally wiped blood onto my CHEEK to the great entertainment of the folks at the impromptu pre-dinner gathering on the moomindeck. (The moomindeck is the absolute best place for an impromptu gathering as long as the wind isn’t screaming outta the northwest.)

Tomorrow I am gonna go and pick up some REGULAR bandaids at the park store in Brimley. Not kneecap bandaids or teensy tinesy little round bandaids that you can’t WRAP around your thumb/finger. Just plain old straight bandaids. By then I probably won’t even need any more bandaids but they’ll be here for others.

That’s how deep Gitchee Gumee gets somewhere north of Munising, which is just to the west of the Pictured Rocks.

The depth in our bay doesn’t go beyond 12-13 feet. Along our beach, there is a sandbar system. Two sandbars and it doesn’t get over your head until after the second sandbar. This makes it a very safe swimming beach, especially for little kids because you can tell them not to go beyond the second sandbar. Additionally there is an island right in the middle of our bay (not visible in this pic), which prevents undertows from forming. That’s what my dad believed and I think he was right. We are very strict about lifeguarding *anyway*.

The swimmer in the pic is one of my beach urchins, who drove up from The Planet Ann Arbor today. After the swim, a couple of her second cousins came down to the beach from the Old Cabin and we hung out talking until the MOE-skee-TOES were even bothering meeeeee a bit. I remember when these young men were very young and someone dubbed them the Boyz of Noiz. Not so much any more. Highly intelligent, successful, and thoughtful young men.

Other than that, a grock shop, toilet cleaning, and green bag garbage dump kind of day. Chores and errands. Everyone is taaaared and so g’night.

That’s what I’m looking forward to for the next couple weeks. It’s been a while since I’ve had two weeks of vacay in a row. I get six weeks all told so it’s not like this is the only little bitsy of vacay I get. I have been there done that as a young person. I tend to take vacay in the summer when daughters, cousins, etc., are visiting the moominbeach. So it depends on when they are around how many weeks I take at a time. Make no mistake, I am happy with this kind of arrangement.

As are most of my vacations, this will be a Busman’s Holiday. I will be cooking and cleaning along with all the fun stuff of hanging out on the beach and deck with relatives.

This morning, before my last day of work before vacay, I did laundry and dropped off the recycle (so I would have reusable grock bags for tomorrow’s grock run). I had company on my outdoor bench at the laundromat this morning in the form of Le Marquis, a cousin-neighbor. He was off to the grock store afterward. I had to skedaddle back to moominCubelandia for work. During which I finished up one prodject and absolutely nothing else happened. Summer time… … … And the livin’ is easy… … …

The GG hung around on the beach and motored around the bay chasing freighters with Le Marquis all afternoon. This is his pic from beneath our big sun umbrellas.

Then there was dessert next door to celebrate a birthday and that’s about all for tonight. Lots to do tomorrow.

P.S. [Ka]MALA: Make America Laugh Again. I don’t think I made this up. I think I heard it on the radio sometime today. I haven’t laughed, at least not about politics, since 2016. Let’s laugh again.

This was the “sunset” two nights ago. Rain was moving in and we got rain most of yesterday. Sunset or not, I still think it’s beautiful.

Out there in the channel (past the front yard, beach, and bay, a half mile or so away) is the Philip R. Clarke heading downbound. I am calling it my “baby bote” because when I was a year and a half old, it docked on the lower St. Marys (no apostrophe) River and opened up for public tours. It was not brand new then but only a couple years old and has two “sister” ships, the Arthur M. Anderson and the Cason J. Callaway.

My parents took me on a tour. I *think* I have vague memories of this. Walking (because I could walk!) up and down the stairs between the various levels. I dunno if these are true memories or if I’ve just been told this story so many times I *think* I remember it. I have also toured more than a few other botes in my time, long after I could consciously string thoughts together so those memories are real and maybe I’m conflating a bit. (Also old planes but we’ll go there some other time🐽)

I have a *real* memory of taking the ferry across the Straits of Mackinac sometime the year before the BigMac bridge was built. I was three and we used to “go to Detrite in the middle of the night”. That means we got up at something like 3:00 AM in order to catch the first ferry across the straits then on down the old two-lane highways to visit my maternal grandparents in Detroit. I remember being dressed in my best for those trips, a tartan wool plaid skirt purchased in a specialty shop in Canananada. My memory is walking around up on the deck with my dad, with my hands in my pockets just like him.

In total, the trip from Sault Ste. Siberia to Detroit in those days took something like 11 hours. Nowadays with the BigMac Bridge and the I75 SUV Speedway it’s five hours or fewer. At least it is when there aren’t big traffic backups or, you know, snow and/or ice.

I had forgotten that this statement was from the 2020 VP debates. Kamala vs. Mike Pence. Actually I had to do a double-take and look this up (again) because, wait, Pence was Trump’s running mate in 2020? Yes, of course he was. It wasn’t until January 6, 2021 that Trump’s insurrectionists (yes, I meant to call those yay-hoos that) set up a noose to hang him that they parted ways. Sorry, I was in a time warp for a minute.

The local NPR station used to be classical music during the week and I miss that to some extent now that it has changed to talk. I don’t miss all of the music. Some of it I like to PLAY more than listen to. Bach flute sonatas, I’m looking at you. Anyway. There are some good talk shows and one today interviewed the author of a new book “I’m speaking”, by a vocal coach and named after Kamala’s statement. In other words, shaddup and let me finish a sentence. The NPR program was scheduled long ago and the events of the last week were coincidental.

I don’t want to go too much into the specifics because I am not an expert in any of this complex stuff and I cannot sort out my thoughts in the time it takes to write a quick blahg entry. The main thing is that many women don’t like what their voice sounds like and this coach helps them with that. She is *not* a speech therapist and disclaims that.

Although I have always been a bit shy about speaking up, my voice has always naturally projected and I don’t mind what it sounds like. I know what it sounds like because I routinely record work meetings when we are talking about complicated functionality. I *always* get permission from the others in the meeting for recording. And they always agree because the main person who listens to the recordings is meeeeee. Probably because my voice projects, my parents were always trying to shush me up a bit. My parents were wonderful in most ways but I think this was a mistake. But all parents make mistakes. I sure have.

This topic is too complex for tonight so we’ll talk about puddles instead. This was our two-track Cabin Road this morning when I was going out for a grock run. On this road, if somebody is coming the other direction, one of you has to dive into a driveway or whatever to let the other vee-hickle go by. We had a LOT of rain yesterday (loverly) and it looks like these puddles might be difficult to navigate but they are not. Cygnus (Subie Crosstrek) had no trouble and even the Ninja (fancy Honda Civic) could do it without trouble. It helps to drive s-l-o-w-l-y but also we have a micro-local Road Commission and that crew frequently “grades” the road (not sure that’s the right word). Many thanks to Mayor Pete and his crew.

Bookending a bit here. Kamala? You go girl! If you aren’t finished speaking, let ’em know. The same applies to all humans who are being talked over or shushed.

21 years ago yesterday (7/22/2003) was my first blahg entry. I was at the moomincabin with one daughter (in the pic) while the GG and the other daughter were still on The Planet Ann Arbor. I am not a fan of phone calls and thought if I wrote a blahg entry every day, it might cut down on the need to call. I think I remember that being at least somewhat successful.

Back then I was “rolling my own”, meaning I did not have blogging software and wrote html/css code myself. I did that every day until sometime in 2006 when I glommed on to a platform that provided WordPress blogging software. That worked for a while until they had some kind of major problem and I lost service for a couple weeks or something. I had to beg the overworked, underpaid, UNCARING tech support folks for my database but eventually I got it. My friend The Guru saved the day by yanking me and my database onto his own platform, also WordPress but MUCH more stable.

The pic is the first pic I posted. It is my then teenaged mouse with “Bob” in the background. Bob was a piece of driftwood that my brother set up with sunglasses and other pieces of attire (not really visible in the pic or maybe Bob hadn’t gotten dressed that day). My brother died in 2005 but he was an occasional guest blahgger on ababsurdo in its early years and wrote a couple of hilarious entries. Eventually Bob disintegrated and is long gone. I don’t *think* this pic was taken by my old Sony Mavica. I *think* I had a Canon or something by then. The pic doesn’t look as pixelated as the ones the Mavica took. I loved the Mavica *anyway*, floppy disks and all.

I have kept my old html archives but many of the links on the left nav probably don’t work any more. I am cracking myself up revisiting what I wrote about my blahg when I made the archive page. *I* don’t post about politics???? Say what? I could reasonably ignore that topic then but now that the USA has taken on a fugly orange tinge…

So, who knew? 1) That I would still be blahgging 21 years later. 2) That one of the many things I now get paid to do is write html/css code. And a bit of Javascript just to keep me on my toes.

I’m kinda kidding about the white pantsuit and I don’t mean to make this a political post exactly.

I am zooming with MMCB₂ tomorrow morning and we both support Kamala and she posted a pic of Kamala in a white pantsuit on Facebook yesterday. So when we connected today about meeting tomorrow, I told her I’d be wearing my white pantsuit.

I don’t actually OWN a white pantsuit. I haven’t owned any color pantsuit since I can’t even think when. I had a couple of pantsuit-type things when I first started working for Corporate America back in like 2007. They were not the kind of pantsuits you might be thinking, more like loose capri length cotton summerweight pants with a tank top and a loose cotton shirt. One of them happened to have white pants. I finally decided I am a SKIRT gal and haven’t worn pants for umpteen bazillion years except for Smartwool leggings.

The last time I wrote about putting on my White Pantsuit was fall of 2016. The GG went off to work and then texted in a panic because it was Garbage Day and the compost carts were full of yard waste (which I didn’t know) and he had forgotten to schlep them out to the curb. Thinking Hillary was gonna win (because WHO would vote for an *sshole like Trump), I merrily posted that I was putting on my White Pantsuit to schlep the compost carts out to the curb. We all know what happened next.

So I am a little nervous about putting on the proverbial White Pantsuit tomorrow, even though it’ll be one of my many tie-dyed t-shirts and a skirt (and a polarfleece jacket or vest depending on the temperature). But I’m gonna do it ANYWAY. MMCB₂ and I will have a lot to talk about tomorrow. I do know that. And if I thought buying a White Pantsuit would help Kamala win the election I would buy one but I think it’ll take a lot more than that. F*ck Trump and MAGA. I guess I did get political after all. Sorry.

P.S. I was asked ALL WEEKEND if my company was affected by the whole CrowdStrike thing. I figgered NOOOOO but REFUSED to log on to my work laptop to try to find out. As it turned out, the answer was NOOOOO and one of the more techie folks opined, “[insert company name] isn’t stooopid enough to use that software.” So there.

I was up early and had coffee on the deck, then shooed Chainsaw Man off to the trail, talked to the neighbor-cousins for a bit, then went inside to listen to this week’s “Left Right and Center” up close and personal. I half-listened to a couple more shows, then something came on about lucid dreaming and I decided I wasn’t that interested, at least not in learning how to do it. So I kinda “tuned out” for a bit.

When I “tuned in” again, the talk was decidedly different and it didn’t take me long to figure out that Joe had dropped out, even before I officially heard someone say it.

What do I think? I do not know. A few RANDOM sound bites from meeeee (not going into detail — you’re welcome): 1) I do not think he is senile despite the dismal debate performance. Armchair quarterbacks are making that call and from most accounts, Trump was awful too albeit for different reasons. 2) I am appalled that democrats did not rally around Joe. I hope for the best but his dropping out is a gamble and I hope to hell “we” don’t lose to Trump (and I am NOT a democrat although I almost always vote for democrats). 3) I wonder if Joe’s recent covid infection might have been his last straw. I remember how defeated I felt when I got it and I was just barely symptomatic. But his infection came after a string of crapola and maybe he decided he was just done.

What do I think about Kamala (seems like the likely candidate but who knows)? I do not know. We don’t ever really get to know the vice prez, do we? Will people vote for a Black woman? I sure hope so.

I am sick of all the talk about first woman, first Black, first Black woman. ALL human beings are capable of acquiring the QUALIFICATIONS necessary for handling important jobs like POTUS. It’s high time we stopped this kind of talk and voted for (hired, whatever) people because of their QUALIFICATIONS! Honesty being one of the most important qualifications for public office anything, something Trump does not possess and even admits it himself. Alas, I don’t have much hope…

That is about all for now. Onward into an uncertain future. Not that our future was certain when Joe *was* still running. Or ever…

Love y’all, KW

P.S. The first time I said, “I would vote for Mickey Mouse over Trump”, it was April 2017 and we were in Florida having dinner with The Beautiful Susie (gone now, alas) and Mr. Ed. That still holds true. And I am in NO WAY equating Kamala with Mickey Mouse! Although maybe Mickey might not make the worst president.