Archive for June, 2006


Friday, June 30th, 2006

Thursday: Kayak Woman and the GG from the Planet Ann Arbor to Houghton Lake.

Beeep Beeeep Beeeep. Bubba builds a road. Beeeeep Beeeeep Beeep.

Friday: Kayak Woman from Houghton Lake to the Shores of Gitchee Gumee. Lizard Breath from kzoo to Houghton Lake. Mouse from the Planet Ann Arbor to Houghton Lake.

Green vee-hickle grok grok and green kayak grok grok

Strange transactions at the Tractor Store, expensive cherries at Glen’s, The Commander’s other house, the real house, where she lives some of the days, Post Office, Evening Snooze.

Saturday: RegenAxes from St. Louie to the Planet Ann Arbor. Mouse from Houghton Lake to the Shores of Gitchee Gumee. Karen and entourage from GB to the Shores of Gitchee Gumee.

Swimming, reading about Zimbabwe while sitting *alone* on my luxurious northern American beach……

Luxurious northern American beach

Sunday: RegenAxe Entourage from the Planet Ann Arbor to the Shores of Gitchee Gumee. Lizard Breath and the GG from Houghton Lake to the Shores of Gitchee Gumee.

My brain hurts. Does yours?

I Love Houghton Lake

Thursday, June 29th, 2006

Yes, an extra post for today! We got to the Courtois Group Home at Houghton Lake around 9:30. We somehow expected Kathy to be here but there was some kind of boat problem so she and Doug didn’t make it and we found that out when we were about a mile away from the cabin. I had been looking forward to spending some time with a sister-in-law here tonight and I was disappointed. Until we pulled in the driveway and saw Betsy/Liz’s car here! “Where’s my drink?” I yelled. Mouse had ordered me before we left today to have a drink when I arrived at Houghton Lake tonight. Okay, Mouse. I have a drink. And I have a sister-in-law! And I will crash soon. You told me to do that too.
I’m leaving early in the morning for the beach and The Commander. I will have fun but I’ll miss all the Houghton Lake folk this weekend. I love you guys more than you might know.

Frumpy, eh?

Thursday, June 29th, 2006

To those who think I am looking a little frumpy lately (you know who you are ;-)): This morning, a total stranger told me that my outfit and my jewelry was wonderful and that I just looked great in general. Or was bright the word? I was so flabbergasted, I can’t even remember. I was thinking, “what jewelry?” and grabbing at my ears thinking, “which earrings do I have on?” I even had on my old ripped up velcro sandals that the Commander hates and who knows what my hair looked like. A mop, no doubt. But I was having breakfast with a friend and, in terms of attitude, I was doing pretty darn well. Sometimes that goes a long way. So, :-P!

Too Old for Myspace?

Wednesday, June 28th, 2006

I guess now that I have a friend, it’s time to come out of the closet and confess that I have a myspace account. I am moominmamakayakwoman or “Moom” for short. I did not join up with myspace for any of the typical reasons which I guess revolve around making friends and finding dates. And looking sexy, if you are interested in the latter, which I am not.

My blahg gets me into some weird stuff sometimes and one evening I randomly happened to take a look at my referral logs. There were a couple of myspace urls so I went out there and took a look. dum de dum de dum grok grok Who is checking out my site, I wondered? Well, people who were stealing my images, that’s who. Particularly this one:


The Twinz of Terror and I bought this sign about a gazillion years ago on one of those fun Houghton Lake shopping trips where you stop at every single hardware store all the way around the lake. And a few boat shops for good measure. They put it up in the back window of the moldy old cabin. Grandpa Garth was there at the time and after some silent scrutinization, he apparently approved of it because it was still there when we were about to bulldoze the place and we salvaged it.

I didn’t really care if people were stealing my disaster area sign, but I was curious about why they wanted it. I get curious a lot. So I decided to ask. But myspace wouldn’t let me send a message to any of its users because I didn’t have an account. So, I made one. I didn’t get much response from any of the image stealers. I am going to guess they thought I was crazy. So my account just sat out there rather blankly for a while.

It attracted exactly two invitations from potential friends, “Merry” and “Camila.” Those did not sound like very likely names to me. Their profile pictures showed old bags like me but the focus of their spaces seemed to be “meeting people over 50,” i.e., for dating. I was NOT interested. I denied them.

Well, now I actually have a friend. A real one that I also know in real life. She’s also known as Goose’s Mom and I feed her cats sometimes. In honor of that development, I actually wrote a more or less “real” profile for myself. “Swinger” was one of the options available for relationship status and I have to admit I toyed with the idea of checking that off just for the hell of it. But I decided it would conflict too much with the statement that I am not looking for dates and might even get me into some kind of weird trouble, so I went for the boring old “married” instead.

I don’t really know what I’m going to do with my myspace. If you have an account and want to friend an old bag, go for it. Or you could make an account and friend an old bag. Or neither of the above.

Sincerely yours,


One Year

Tuesday, June 27th, 2006

Jim and Jack, ca. 1961, from the Sherman archives

One year ago today, we lost my brother and this is the story, more or less. At age 51, I had lost a close relative for the first time. My grandparents were all gone, of course, but that is a different thing and too long for this entry.

I didn’t know how I was supposed to feel. For a *really* long time, I couldn’t cry. Or maybe didn’t is a better word. I put on my road-warrior uniform, grabbed my frog and my powerbook and hit the pavement. North and back and north and back and north and back again. Ad nauseam. Didn’t unpack the entire summer. As only sibling, the role I crafted for myself was to keep track of how others were doing, whether they needed me to do that or not. Jim’s *very* strong wife and daughters and our healthy but elderly parents. I tried to be there if there was even an inkling that someone might need an ear or a shoulder or whatever.

I like to think I have encountered my brother since last year. There was the time, shortly after Jack died, that just the right used vee-hickle showed up at just the right price. And a little fly-by during Liz’s graduation. And then there was a dream. Karen and I were standing in The Commander’s kitchen in Siberia at about 3 AM. That weird bat-scope time of the morning. I don’t know what we were doing there. Our butts were not on the floor so it probably didn’t involve drinking B&B or some other dangereuse activity. But I looked out the window and he was there looking in at us, smiling a smile that I can only describe as love. “Thanks, you guys, for pulling together,” he seemed to be saying. I’ve had prescient dreams before (and since, unfortunately) but that’s the first time I felt like I had contact with someone on the other side, albeit through a window.

I finally started reaching for the kleenex in about March but that was after all kinds of other shit had hit the fan. Nowadays, I’m kind of drifting. Waiting for something to happen. Something good, thank you very much. Some days I get on a roll and *make* myself do something productive. Or I am at least able to tap into the positive energy of someone else for a while. Other days, I do not want to talk about. Today is one of those. People who have already walked this road tell me what I’m experiencing is normal and typical. I am grateful for their wisdom and take considerable comfort from it but I still wish I could get beyond it. The family, or what’s left of it, will all be together on the beach next week. That will help.

One year. Miss you, bro’.

Workin’ On th’ Link Belt (grok grok)

Monday, June 26th, 2006

0-dark-thirty at the Carbeck Landfill: Grok grok grok. Hi ho, hi ho, sproing sproing crash sploosh. It’s off t’ work I go. grok grok.

Well, I wasn’t exactly sure what was going on but it was awfully noisy around here this morning and “crash sploosh” was awfully suspicious and then, when Mouse and I got up, the jug of frog juice was missing. And so was Froggy. grokGROK

Mouse and I were involved in a complicated early morning mission to drop a vee-hickle off at Howard Cooper and when we finished with that, we went off in search of coffee and breakfast. All was well until we passed the Pi-Hi parking lot.

Mouse noticed that there was a red Link Belt steamshovel that seemed to be awfully interested in schlurping up whatever creepy-crawlies were buried in the dirt it was scooping up. To my absolute sheer utter horror, I caught a flash of green (grok grok) in the cab. The shovel arm was swinging wildly around making frequent deposits of various insects and other little morsels into the operator’s wide red mouth. grok grok. Good stuff! I love this job! grokgrokfrgok

We decided the best course was to just duck and make sure no one saw us and somehow we made it past the construction site unnoticed. We ended up downtown at The Broken Egg and then, when we got home, we decided to walk back downtown, just for fun. We went to Peaceable Kingdom and Orchid Lane and used the bathroom at Border’s, which can have our pee but not our money.

Unbelievably, we had almost completely forgotten about Froggy by this time. Actually, I think we were relieved that someone else, i.e., his boss, was responsible for him for once. Grok grok. Whaddya mean? grok gork. I *run* that construction site. grokgrok. Roight, Frooooggy.

Anyway, Steve had called to say that our vee-hickle was ready and since we were already half-way to Howard Cooper, we decided to walk the rest of the way and pick it up. We were walking along State Street and all of a sudden, we heard a rustling in the bushes. Accompanied by a rather familar sound. grok grok. Hope th’ boss doesn’ find me here. grok grok. That was pretty hard work. grok grok. After all o’ that frog juice and creepy-crawlies, I needed a li’l Listerine break. grok grok. dum de dum de dum.

So, did the boss find Froggy and fire him? Did he go back to work and accidentally knock his steam shovel against an underground lucky-shucky cable? Did we retrieve him from the bushes and take him home to sleep it off?

What do YOU think? (Hint: he is not home yet…)

Cleanin’ Out the Shed Ad Nauseam

Sunday, June 25th, 2006

When we bought the Landfill 22 years ago, our budget could handle a house on The Planet Ann Arbor with either a garage or a basement. Not both. Despite the fact that we have owned at least three vee-hickles for probably 21 of those 22 years, we opted for the basement.

So, where do we put the lawnmower and the bicycles and the shovels and the rakes and the sledgehammer and that big heavy metal pole that reams out the pipe to the toilet and all the excess lumber and that big metal picture of the Marine with the green swastika spray-painted over it?

A Courtois artifact that defies description

Well, some of it just sits out beside the house and thank god the Burkes are nice enough to ignore it. The rest is in the shed.

I hate the shed. It is an rickety old metal thing that Whatzizname Price, the previous owner, put in the back of the yard. There is a beam through the middle of it that I always bump my head on and the sheets of plywood that pass for a floor are always flopping around so that when you try to sweep it out, half of the debris ends up *under* the floor. Which really doesn’t much matter, I guess. Rumor has it that kids used to somehow use the shed as a shortcut to get to Haisley School through the woods. Until Price caught somebody peeing off the roof.

There’s always all kinds of dirt, crap (literally), crud and corruption in the shed. About once every couple of years some aminal dies underneath it and stinks up the back yard for a few days. It has been three years since anyone (that would be me) last cleaned out the shed and it was worse today than I have ever seen it. Mouse turds, cobwebs, and acorns absolutely everywhere and a wasp nest and the pile of “lumber” was just teeming with ants and their larvae. At least that’s what I *thought* it was. I drowned the whole mess. Sorry kids.

Cleaning out the shed is one of my least favorite chores and the reason is that I can never seem to get rid of anything!!! I haul everything out and try to sweep the cobwebs off it all. Then I [try to] sweep the shed floor. Today after sweeping whatever crud and crap I could sweep out of there, I found a relatively high-pressure hose nozzle and sprayed everything down including the interior of the shed. It even looked somewhat clean when I was done. And then. I had to put all of that crap back in there. Obviously there isn’t much incentive to do this ugly chore if it accomplishes so little.

We have had our share of arguments about junk today. One of my favorite things to talk about [sarcasm] and very typical conversation after 24 years [not sarcasm, unfortunately]. During one of today’s little debates, we both got fed up and as I blurted out, “Well, maybe you will die someday,” he simultaneously blurted out, “Well, maybe I will die someday.” Sorry, the humor is often a bit morbid around here in the last year.

I won a couple of small battles this time. A few things went into the recycle bin or our handy-dandy “A2 Cart.” Close the lid quick! Two or three things are ear-marked to head up to Houghton Lake (more art 😉 ) or Siberia (charcoal). The old broken push mower is out by the street. Free. The old broken log splitter is not. “Just needs a little welding.” Roight. The metal swastika/Marine apparently gets used as a “slider.” When, I do not know, it is always covered with cobwebs. And don’t ask me what a “slider” is either. In this context, I do not know.

Sugar and Jealousy I am going to keep, even though there aren’t any little kids around here to love them any more. Mouse used to tether them on the front porch while the girls were in school and my job was to feed them bowls of warm water. They are my friends and the very brave Sugar once helped us rescue some very cute snowballs from others-who-are-not-girls at the schoolyard. I can’t get rid of them.

Sugar and Jealousy

Ramble Ramble, Only a Little Bit Emo

Saturday, June 24th, 2006

I cannot for the life of me figure out anything clever to talk about today. I guess it’s another one of those slow blahggin’ days. Liz recently said, “Yeah, Mom, I can tell when it’s a slow day.” And it was. So, this is just a straight (rambly?) post about life for the last 24 hours or so.

There were three Hondas here overnight (blue, green, and black) because Liz came home from her house in kzoo to meet up with her friend Colleen, whom she’s known since March 1985. I made chicken pot pie and then they walked downtown and met up with various other people at various barrooms. It is fun to make G&Ts for your kid, especially when your kid is a more responsible drinker than you are. Mouse went out too and then when Liz came home at 0-dark-thirty, I had one of those bat-scope moments and forgot where Mouse was and there were a few moments of panic about that but she was at Amanda’s which was A-okay. Actually, just about anywhere Mouse goes is A-okay because she’s another kid who generally possesses better judgment than her mom.

Today was shopping for clothes for Cali and beyond and discussions about the color pink. My beeyootiful new sunglasses (not pink) may or may not have caused a sensation in the trendy clothing stores downtown in The Planet. Pink may be the new black to some, not necessarily anyone I know, but shabby is the new black to me. And lunch at Amer’s, where they can’t seem to halve the vegetarian sandwiches.

And then. And then. River ride? Yeah, we did that. I was envious of all the kayakers. My kayaks are all in distant locations. And then Liz and I walked over to her alma mater, Haisley Elementary, to check out the construction zone there. We discussed the playground structures and various things that happened there. Like the time she was in kindergarten hanging upside down on some monkey bars and “Mom, some big boys *looked* at my panties.” Roight. I didn’t remind her about the old 60s-style play structure made out of old tires and how, at the age of 18 months, she climbed all the way up and down that damn thing and I won’t tell you what she was doing the whole time but it did clean up quickly. A few years later, some kids made a bomb with a gas cylinder and some black powder and tried to blow that structure off of the face of the planet. They were not successful but they severely wounded one of their friends. I’ll blahg about that whole thing another day maybe. It’s too long a story for now.

And then we stood on the painted sidewalk map of the US and she walked from The Planet Ann Arbor to Berkeley, CA, stopping briefly at St. Louie and Colorado along the way. I planted my feet firmly on the shores of Gitchee Gumee and kind of squinted out at the left coast. This was the emo part of all this.


Liz has returned to kzoo now. Mouse is downtown somewhere. Prairie Home is on and, as usual, I am half listening to it. Sorta wishing I was at Houghton Lake. Knowing it might be a while before I get there again for more than a few hours. This is a bit emo too, sorry.

Love and Peace.


Friday, June 23rd, 2006

It’s catching! I do not have one darn thing to talk about toady today (I type toady instead of today a lot). Anyway, I had a lot of fun going out for both coffee and lunch today and driving to Howard Cooper not once but twice, I guess that’s practice for when I take the blue car in on Monday to get that damn flashing light turned off. But then I got a sinking spell that I had to absolutely WRENCH myself out of. It was like the dreams I sometimes have when I dive under water in Gitchee Gumee and then can’t pull my head out of the water and breathe again.

Fortunately, Dr. Econ has come to the rescue and written a new article, so she can guest blahg for today. I should mention that Dr. Econ’s other name is The Beautiful Renee. She’s an economist with the Federal Reserve Bank of San Francisco and also our niece! You might think that having a relative at the Federal Reserve would make us a little more wealthy but it just does not work that way. Once during Grandroobly’s banking career, he got to hold a million bucks cash in his hands at a federal reserve bank. That was back when a million bucks was actually a lot of money and I don’t think it was at the San Francisco branch or whatever the appropriate word for “branch” is in the federal reserve system. That didn’t make us any more wealthy either. Anyway, go read what Dr. Econ has to say and I’ll shut up now like I think I said I was gonna do from the beginning. Even when I don’t have anything to say, it seems like I can’t shut up.

Towel Ponchos, Goofy Lamps, and Life

Thursday, June 22nd, 2006

This morning, after a ten-day odyssey to the UP with my Fin G3 cousin Aimee, I dropped her off at Metro so she could return to her home on Lopez Island, Washington. We had not seen each other in eight years. It was time. Below is a pic of us when we were about ten. We’re on the beach, wearing our first sewing projects, towel ponchos that we made under The Commander’s supervision. I can’t believe how much taller I am than Aimee in the pic. Nowadays, she’s taller than me. Not to mention one heck of a lot braver and stronger.


We don’t look much alike and our lives are quite different but we do have some similarities. We are musicians and fiber artists and do active outdoor stuff like hiking, skiing, and kayaking. She’s a lot more adventurous, especially about the outdoor stuff, than I, who can’t live without taking a shower at least once a day. We had our first babies the same year. To be completely accurate, she bucked a certain G3 Fin trend and stopped at one child, Robyn. We have both gone back to college in the last couple years, albeit in very different fields of study. And there’s other more nebulous psychological-type stuff that can’t easily be put in words that make sense so I won’t bore y’all with it.

Oddly enough, we seem to have similar taste. I kind of knew that but I always thought I was just copying someone I admired a lot. But yesterday afternoon, when we walked into my house here on the Planet Ann Arbor and Aimee saw my cheap, goofy looking lamp (see pic), she said, “I have one of those too!” I bought mine on a complete impulse at a Home Depot here in Michigan. She did the same thing out in Washington. Go figure.


Girl, I hope you are having a good trip home and that nobody be irkin’ your nerve. Thanks for the last ten days. Thanks for wine and food and hikes and swimming in Gitchee Gumee and a kayak trip to absolutely die for with some of my favorite people on the face of the planet. Thanks for inspiring me to focus on positive thoughts and energy. I am on the watch for bat-scopes and mbira music.

Time Warpy Stuff, Sorta Emo, Beware

Wednesday, June 21st, 2006

Where does time go? I’m hanging around here at the barren, mostly empty beach remembering when I used to get up in the morning, put my bathing suit on no matter what the weather, and run wild with all the other beach urchins all day long. Swimming and building forts and damming up the streams. Rowing out into the bay in leaky old boats singing at the tops of our lungs. It all seems like paradise but of course there were times when I was fighting with my brother or my cousins or the older kids got tired of us hanging around them or I was in trouble with my parents.

And then somebody somewhere hit the goddamn fast forward button. The G1 folk all took off and I had my own little beach urchins and I would sit down there and watch them swim all day. I could still snuggle with them and read to them and sing to them before they went to sleep. The Commander taught 3-year-olds how to cut vegetables with a sharp knife and we instituted the three o’clock snack to try to ensure that we had at least a couple hours in the day when we weren’t processing dishes. And again it all seems like paradise until I remember the times when somebody or other (often me) was cranky and not with the program or there were so many people and aminals in the cabin that it was impossible for everyone (often me) to get the amount of space they needed.

And then somebody somewhere hit the goddamn fast forward button *again*. The G2 folk are starting to disappear on us and G3 too, kee-reist, and the youngest of the G4 folk is 17. My little lizard is heading off to California in August and I am happy for her. But we are once again in that kind of between-generation limbo where there are no little kids running around. And actually, not a whole lot of people in general. I can pretty much do whatever I want up here. I’ve been looking forward to this for years but now I have to admit, sometimes I feel a little lonely. I’ll get used to it, I guess.

In a little bit, I am going to pull the boats up onto the bank and try to wrench Froggy grokGOKRGROK away from his friend Green Guy and we are going to head back south and ascend once again to the Planet Ann Arbor. It’s early in the summer and we’ll be back and I have about a million coffee and lunch dates between now and then and plenty of other less-fun stuff to do, so the time will go fast.

I hope when I am a feisty old octowoman I will still be bombing around kayaking and skiing and hiking and writing in my stoopid blahg. But I’m not ready for that yet, so please can we just lay off that goddamn fast forward button for a while?

Happy Birthday, Radical Betty

Tuesday, June 20th, 2006


And I think that is about all for today. Actually, I have a lot on my mind today. Some of the usual baggage about life, death, the universe and the precession of the generations. And some time warpy sort of stuff. It isn’t all bad but some of it is sorta emo and I don’t really have the words I need and y’all do not prob’ly wanna know.

Good stuff? Yes, there was plenty of that. A nice, slow kayak trip around the bay. A beach day. Very dark glasses. Swimming. Birthday dinner at Betty’s in a few minutes. Friends and cousins. Octogenarians. Amphibians. Longevity.

The Shermans

Monday, June 19th, 2006

Well, it is late and I wanted to blahg about the Shermans today but we have Radical Betty and Aimee over here and we have enough booze here to float a boat and we are partying a bit. Don’t worry, we aren’t drinkin’ it all tonight. I think it’ll last the whole summer. Come on up and help us drink it! Anyway, we are having fun and we even played a dice game and I was winning for a while but I think I lost when all was said and done. I was doing about five things at a time around then and I kept losing track. Anyway. Below is a pic of me and my dog and my first boyfriend, Danny Sherman. We were six. And some old floated-in dredge pipes are in the background. The Shermans used to set up an encampment in our yard here on the Shores of Gitchee Gumee every year when I was a kid. We all shared an outhouse. I loved the Shermans. They were almost like cousins. There were five kids including Danny. And I absolutely idolized his older sister Beth. Danny sent us a whole bunch of pics from the Sherman archives back in the day. I’ll blahg more about the Shermans some other day. But y’all can look at the pics.

Danny Sherman, my dog Tigger, and me, with dredge pipes in the background (click for more)

I Was Gonna Drive Home Today, But…

Sunday, June 18th, 2006

Although it was a pretty slow morning around here, a few exciting things happened today including:

  • Jan watched an eagle pick up the dead seagull off the beach today. It was between the old cabin and the old McNaughton cabin. I would normally have been out there picking that thing up with a shovel but I was sort of avoiding it, with all due respect to West Nile and Bird Flu whatever you call it. Not to mention extreme laziness. But an eagle did the job for me. Or at least it tried. A whole bunch of living seagulls chased the eagle off and it dropped the seagull, in a much dimished form, right smack in front of our cabin. Surgical mask and shovel may be in order.
  • It took a bunch of amazons (Lizard, Aimee, Jane and me) to release the Old Town kayak from its perch near the ceiling in the garage. Only a mad scientist could’ve figgered that set-up out. Above another old boat. Jane, good luck with your tetanus shot!
  • The afore-mentioned amazons kayaked around Birch Point and got home just in time for it to rain.
  • 3/5ths of the Hondas on the beach left today. Miss you guys :-/ Lizard, I’ll mail the jeans.
  • We took the [goddamn] garbage up!!!

I am still here. I didn’t end up driving home (and that is a relative term) today but I could sure be stuck (and that is a relative term) in a worse place. It is different here without all the guys and we are still trying to find our bearings but we are strong women and the guys did sometimes drive us nuts but we still miss them and we’ll do our best to carry on and the North shall rise again. Onward!

Kayakin’ the Pictured Rocks National Shoreline

Saturday, June 17th, 2006

I am too taaarrred to do a “proper” blahg entry tonight. A motley Fin crew kayaked the Pictured Rocks area of Gitchee Gumee.

Liz in a small rock cave on the Shores of Gitchee Gumee (click for more)

Quotes. Gimme More!

Friday, June 16th, 2006

Quotable quotes from the Shores of Gitchee Gumee, recent and historical:

  • It’s a plassover.
  • Don’t fall over the fly-swatter.
  • Grandaddy is not in the bathroom.
  • No bedtime snorts, Grandmother.
  • If you girls don’t be quiet, I’m gonna fling a muskellunge at you!
  • Speed bumps are fun.
  • He’s not a plasterer, he’s a midget!
  • Grok grok grok.
  • If you drive this car over 50, the engine will explode.
  • Why is Grandma the boss of Grandaddy?

Sheesh, there are so many more but I can’t remember them now. You guys, put your memories to work! I am done for the night.

We Are the First of the Summer (not)

Thursday, June 15th, 2006

To swim. Today. June 15th. Aimee and I. In Gitchee Gumee. We are cool. Literally.

Except that we are not first. Brigid went in Memorial Day weekend. Cheers to Brigid!

Hiking at Red Rocks

Thursday, June 15th, 2006

Lemme see, I have done practically nothing useful since I got here on Monday. Other people are mostly feeding me, taking care of me and keeping me entertained. Secret 3:00 AM meetings called together via a bat scope projected on Radical Betty’s garage. Recording and producing amphi-pop music. Evening kayak trips to the island with voyageur women. And hiking at Red Rocks, just a little north of Gros Cap on the Canuckian side.

Radical Betty and Aimee at Red Rock (click for more)

Tonight, my people are coming. Today I have to get off my butt and do something constructive. Make beds. Honestly, being here alone, I have been crashing on the couch under a single comforter. Obtain food. And toilet bowl cleaner. Make an emergency underwear run to Walmart. Etc., etc. Gotta go. More adventures to ensue.

grok grok grok

Wednesday, June 14th, 2006

Froggy and Green Guy work on their greens on the Shores of Gitchee Gumee

While these green guys are sitting around on the beach, our little matriarchal society is solving all the problems of the world and relentlessly harassing the few males we encounter these days. Uh, that would be Grinch and a young Piedmont boy that’ll prob’ly never walk by The Commander’s garage again. “You know my MOTHER???” he asked incredulously when I inquired about his identity. Well, yeah, I think I was 8 years old when she was born. Actually, he acted like we had caught him red-handed doing something terribly illegal but we were just curious. I get that way a lot and some people think it is obnoxious. But it’s hard enough to sort out the Fin G4 and G5ers, let alone the McNaughton-Piedmont clan. Are they on G6 yet? I dunno but they’ve always been ahead of us on the reproductive end of things. Anyway, as y’all know, there are really only two rules here to break and walking down the back road is not one of them.

Am I done blahggin’ today? Prob’ly not. Adventures call.

Internet Withdrawal (not)

Tuesday, June 13th, 2006

Online on the Shores of Gitchee Gumee. Yay for!

But this is dial-up so you big picture guys please do not email me any large photos, etc. You know who you are.