Yes, I did do just a bit of trespassing today. Took a sneak peek at the huge hole in the woods where the new Faunt place will be along the rocks heading to Cedar Point. And then, when we were walking back down the beach (“we” being me, the GG, and Radical Betty), we stopped by where the big cross is. Yes, Mr. Armstrong (or whoever), we can see it from the beach. If you put something like that in the line of sight, people are going to be tempted to walk up there and check it out. I had already seen the cross and didn’t particularly want to look at it again but, after standing on the beach waiting for the others for a while wondering where they were, I walked up in there to the road. I didn’t know which direction the others had taken so I guessed wrong and headed toward the old lighthouse keeper’s house, aka Doley’s Doelle’s. I was seriously trespassing now. Mr. Armstrong has signs all over the place. “No trespassing. This means YOU!” I know who he means. But nobody was around and that place is a huge part of my childhood so I lingered anyway. I have no idea what the plans are for the house and outbuildings there. In case they’re going to be torn down, I had to take pictures of them. Eventually, I headed back down to the beach and I could see the GG and Radical Betty heading up to Radical Betty’s house.

To Mr. Armstrong and Mr. Faunt. Yes, I trespassed today. I apologize for that. But you have to understand that I have grown up near your land. It is important to me. It is a HUGE part of my history and my family’s history. I would argue that it’s almost more valuable to us than it is to you. I don’t know if you can understand that every time you take out a tree you are stabbing my spirit. I am the absolute last person on earth who would ever disturb anything on your land. I hope we can be, if not friends, at least friendly acquaintances in this new and uncharted century. I don’t care if I can’t walk down the old overgrown two-track to the old lighthouse keeper’s house any more. Over the old log bridge and then the cement bridge. I did that with my grandma. I don’t even care if I can’t walk the old trail to the back light ever again. I’ve shoved all that stuff way down into my memories. Painfully. I do hope you won’t mind if we walk down to the end of the beach and back and I hope you’ll let me walk the rocks to Cedar Point once in a while. You can walk on our beach too. Er, keep your motorized vee-hickles down at your end, please. We got after our own Kevin when he drove on the beach too! Same goes for horses. We have enough trouble with goose poop. So, how ’bout it?

It was a short weekend but it was a long day and I’m tired. I posted some pictures so click here or on Kayak Woman’s steel plant pic from when she was walking her Soo St. Siberia route this morning. I’m too tired to post more for a while, so tomorrow y’all are back to KW’s regular old blather.

Hiking with the North Country Trail Hiawatha Shore to Shore chapter folk is always a riot. Today, we met at Castle Rock. Stop and climb, it’s still a dime! Or maybe a quarter. Or even a dollar. Or two. I dunno what it costs to climb Castle Rock any more. It wasn’t open today. But we met there and then we regrouped at the Castle Rock section trail head to muck around with all the vee-hickle spotting, et al, that goes with a group hike.

We had a large, enthusiastic group of people and dogs today. A number of people chose to do a short version of the hike, either because of time constraints (i.e., some people actually have a life :-)) or concern about how strenuous the entire hike would be. Four groups, us included, did the entire 8.4 miles. It *was* strenuous. If I have it right, we were hiking on forested sand dunes. In a couple of places we could see the tops of the Mackinac Bridge towers and hills in the Lower Peninsula in the distance. At that point, I answered emails from Karen and Uber Kayak Woman on my iPhone. I didn’t say much but I couldn’t resist. Beam me up!

I walk a *lot*, six miles a day at a minimum. But most of my hiking is urban stuff around my neighborhood. I am not conditioned for a lot of steep up and down. I *loved* it but boy oh boy, was I tired at the end. Got back to The Commander’s house and took a nice hot shower.

One bit of misfortune at the very end of the hike. Some of the dogs were sniffing around a North Country Trail post and suddenly there was a lot of barking and screaming. One of the dogs got its foot stuck in an animal trap. The dog’s owner immediately went to its aid and ended up with a lot of bites on her hand because the dog was in such great distress. A hiker in their group was (amazingly) able to open the trap and free the dog. In the end, it seemed that both owner and dog were not mortally wounded but trips to urgent care were in store for both. I think this was an unusual event and I do *not* think that any responsible trapper would deliberately set a trap near a hiking trail. But it served as a sad reminder that it’s always wise to keep an eye open for whatever hazards may occur on a hiking trail. My first thought is to beef up our (the GG’s) first aid kit.

I’m tired and I’m gonna quit while I’m ahead. Click here or on the pic for a very lightly captioned slide show of our hike. Sayonara, KW.

Karen is right as usual 🙂 About the date, I mean. Sorry about that but anyway, my twisted little brain does have a method to its madness. Tomorrow will be November 10th again. It’s been 32 years since my brother listened to the Arthur Anderson call in vain for the Edmund Fitzgerald. It’s been 32 years since Duke and Radical Betty watched their two-story windows sway in the gale. And it’s been 32 years since I made Grinch and our friend Marc walk the beach with me late on a Thanksgiving weekend night. It was just too spooky down there, even though we knew that no bodies would float up on our beach. Superior, they say, never gives up her dead.

This November 10th, the lake is like glass. And guess what? There’s been so much rain up here lately that Lake Superior is now only something like 12 inches below the average level. I got that from The Commander, so it may not be totally accurate :twisted:. The water is still pretty low but the sand islands are gone and the streams are all running in full force. Apparently the sky is not falling after all. I was a skeptic throughout the whole thing. All the talk about erosion (or whatever) in the St. Clair River causing the upper lakes to drain. Or was it an effect of global warming? The low lake levels were disturbing but the explanations just didn’t wash. I’m old enough to remember back in the 60s when the lower lakes were way below average levels. They recovered and later (was it the 80s or the 90s) people were whining and crying about how high the lake levels were. I’m not an expert on this stuff. I don’t even read that much about it. But to some extent, cycles are cycles. Things go up and things go down.

Ah well. I had something profound to say. I think. But I’ve lost my train of thought, so I guess I’m done. The GG and The Commander are talking and some TV news show is running in the background. Franhattans are on tap (I don’t *think* she made ’em backwards). Hiking with the NCT folks tomorrow! G’night! Oh! Click here or on the pic for beach shots.

Nobody has flirted with me at a bar or anywhere else in about a brazillion years. I guess it takes the presence of Sam the Archaeologist to make it happen. Or maybe the guy was just attracted to our iPhones. He was a big, brash old coot. The whole experience was a blast from the past. Because boy oh boy, thirty years or so ago, we spent a lot of time hanging around bars wondering what we were going to do with our lives. At least, that’s what I was wondering. I think Sam may have actually had some plans. We always managed to attract boys. Unfortunately, we had a knack for attracting some pretty weird boys. We would usually toy with them for a while with various little bits of shtik that we developed along the way. Like when someone would ask us that lame old question “what’r’ya into?” We’d exchange a glance. Sam would counter with “I clean human toe bones” and I’d say, “I vibrate columns of air.”

One of the best was the DNA guy. We were at the DelMar Bar up in Sault Ste. Siberia one June. We didn’t usually go to the DelMar but nobody we knew was around and we were bored so we decided to try a different place. There was a noisy group of Canadian steelworkers there including one particularly loud neanderthal who was so high he was swinging from the chandeliers in his lumberjack clothing. We weren’t interested in talking to him or anyone else in there, so we sat at our own table and tried to have our own private conversation.

It gets a little complicated for a just a bit here so bear with me. A story within a story. Our conversation was about an incident at the Alpha Bar that had happened the Christmas before. One of the local college basketball boys became totally enamored of my cousin and was trying desperately to pry her away from an animated conversation she was having with some others by repeatedly asking her, “What are you talking about?” She finally got fed up, turned around, looked him in the eye and said, “recombinant DNA!” Having never heard of recombinant DNA, he pretty promptly slunk off to lick his wounds in whatever corner he had come out of. My cousin was not one of those twitty little bottle-blonde groupies he was accustomed to, that’s for sure.

Anyway, there we were at the DelMar about six months later and we were talking about that incident when the neanderthal in the lumberjack outfit tripped over my chair. And then he tripped over it again. And a third time! Finally, to our horror, he dragged a chair over to our table and sat down. Wouldn’t you know, the first words out of his mouth were, “What are you talking about?” We looked at each other in utter amazement and said in unison, “DNA.” “What?” he asked. “DNA!” we said again. “What?” he asked *again*. Incredulously, emphatically, and in unison, we replied, “Deoxyribonucleic acid!” “Oh, I haven’t done any of *that* in a while!” was his reply. “It’s getting pretty expensive, isn’t it?”

After we got over our shock, we managed to get rid of him and somehow we lived through our early twenties. It wasn’t my favorite time of life. I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life and I was between boyfriends for just a little bit too long for my taste. I know how stupid that last bit sounds, but at that stage of the game, I didn’t particularly like to be alone. I wanted someone to share my life with. I wanted to have children someday. I wasn’t ready then and I knew it. I guess I wanted to *know* it would happen someday. With the long string of wimps, weirdohs, losers, and clingers that I kept running into, I didn’t have much hope. And no, I didn’t meet them *all* in bars. I didn’t understand why it seemed so easy for everyone else to meet boys that they liked *and* that liked them back. Those few that passed the ick factor for me always seemed unattainable. Already taken or not interested in *me* or moving to Timbuctoo.

I don’t really want to dwell on those days. Somewhere along the line, I ran into the GG and then somebody hit the fast forward button and that era is long gone. There were plenty of good times and Sam and all of our adventures together helped me get through it all. When that old coot started flirting with us last night, it brought back all those old times. Doc Burns took the loverly pic of me that’s on this page. If you click on it, you can see a few more pictures, some of them taken by our buddy (with my iPhone!) and a couple by yours truly.

A tour in honor of The Indefatigable’s liberation from its most recent sojourn at the esteemed repair facility Ann Arbor Muffler. Ivory’s expertise and TLC have helped keep The Indefatigable running all these years and in celebration of it’s most recent operation, click here or on the pic for a little lightly-captioned tour. There are a *few* pictures of dead bird/aminal bones that the GG has collected along the way. They aren’t that gross, just old bones, but y’all’ve been warned. And now, Sam and Doc Burns are here and I’m gonna socialize with them! Sayonara, Kayak Woman.

I was beginning to wonder whether Old Man Winter was planning to return to The Great White North this year. He has, albeit not in full force. I do wish I had thought to dredge out my ski band before I took my walk this morning.

I had just parked in the WCC lot today after *carefully* *inching* my way along the ends of all the rows where students are either swinging out with the wild abandon one feels when let out of class or beating tracks to get to that elusive spot in the next row. I was taking my time getting out of my vee-hickle, making sure I had everything I needed for class. I thought, “WHAT was THAT?” The last time I heard that kind of noise, the vee-hickle in which I was parked jumped a foot or two over one of those concrete parking barriers. It was a few years ago at Commie High and I had *randomly* (thank the gods) chosen to drive The Indefatigable down there that day, so my vee-hickle suffered no damage. The kid who hit me must’ve been going about 25 mph as he pulled tried to pull into the space next to me. There was a fake leg hanging out of his trunk. Judging by the number of dents on his vee-hickle, I doubt he cared if he got a few more.

I thought about this for a minute. I didn’t seem to have moved anywhere. So far, so good. I got out of my vee-hickle and warily looked around. I don’t know exactly what happened but it involved someone backing out and someone else driving down the rows maybe a little too fast. Both kids looked like about Mouse’s age. Their vee-hickles looked brand new. *How* in the *heck* do these kids have so much money? My newest vee-hickle is my cute little blue honda civic with the yellow flower sticking out of the blower. It’s two years old. That’s NEW to me. Kee-reist. Is it only two years since my brother left the earth? It seems like an eternity. Errrr, I bet at least one of those kids was driving “mom’s car”. 😉 Sigh. One or maybe two mom’s moms are having very bad days today? I’m not. Knock on wood! 🙂

If my vee-hickle had been hit, I’d have probably been really angry. I’d’ve probably asked those kids if they’d gotten their driver’s licenses out of a Cracker Jack box. But I wasn’t hit, thank god. Those who saw what happened were congregating and I suppose the police were called. I didn’t see what happened so I didn’t get *too* involved. I said to the first person I saw, “I HATE THIS PARKING LOT. I’VE HAD ABOUT 5 NEAR MISSES THIS SEMESTER!” She was a blonde young woman not unlike my daughters. She was looking right through me, so I just talked to the universe. No one responded. Who cared what some ol’ bag had to say? And, you know? It’s not always all that bad to be invisible so I just continued on into the building, figuring I might stop shaking before I had to go to class. Grok grok!

I am a great aunt, oh, lemme see, six times over now and it’ll soon be seven. We have three great-nephews and three great-nieces. Soon the girls will outnumber the boys. It amazes me how routine it is nowadays for people to know their child’s gender before birth. That was cutting edge technology when I had the Beach Urchins. I didn’t even have an ultrasound with Lizard Breath. There was never a need. I did have one — one! — with Mouse. I didn’t think it was necessary (long story) but I went along with it. It required a special trip to the hospital, which is where the equipment was in those days. And I had to drink about a brazillion gallons of water beforehand but I’ll spare you those details. Despite my reluctance to endure an unnecessary medical procedure, the ultrasound dispelled any fears I may have had about what had to be one of the easiest pregnancies in the books. We could see that the baby mousie was developing normally — fingers and occasionally you could see shadowy facial features, etc. The ultrasound technician apparently could see more than we could and she smiled when she asked us if we wanted to know the baby’s gender. I declined. Actually, I already knew she was a girl. I knew Lizard was a girl too. Now if only that technician could’ve told us that our baby had mouse ears and a tail! Actually, maybe that’s why she was grinning so much 😉

The shower I went to this afternoon was for Dave and Jenny, our nephew and his wife-to-be. I got to sit with a bunch of Courtois gals, sisters-in-law and nieces. Nieces who were little kids when I first met them and now have their own children. Nieces who were born after my own kids. I lost all of the games, even the ones of chance. That was okay with me. I had planned to leave with less than I arrived with. I’m downsizing here at The Landfill, dontcha know? Sally won the egg contest at our table. She made her egg look like her brother Steven somehow. I can’t find her egg in that picture. I can’t find mine either. It’s okay. It was a fun, fun afternoon and I watched one of the most beautiful sunsets in the world all the way home on the I696/I275/M14 Freeway Mashup. Er, and risked my life more than a few times trying to take pictures of it with my iPhone.

The GG? He took The Indefatigable to Houghton Lake for the weekend. He raked the leaves there (and here when he got home today — thanks, I was working on it!). There were various walking adventures. He walked to the Northshore and back, the Spikehorn and back, and Ron’s for breakfast this morning. The only problem with walking to Ron’s this morning was that when he got there, it was closed. For the season. So he had to walk all the way back to the cabin and eat oatmeal for breakfast. And then there’s the bit about bottoming out The Indefatigable on a two-track somewhere and messing up the exhaust system. It is now sitting outside Ann Arbor Muffler with a note on it. Those guys will recognize it when they open up the shop tomorrow.

Snow this week? I hope so! Love, Kayak Woman

So, I am TOTALLY PISSED OFF now. Something internet related just cut me off here and I lost a whole big post. I had to re-a-start the blasted airport. I’ll fix it in a little bit I guess. Kee-reist. STAY TUNED, I AM NOT YET FINISHED TONIGHT.

Yes, I wrote that. I lost a whole bunch of writing earlier. What had I written? Well, basically, it all revolved around phone calls.

• Don reached out and touched me from the beautiful state of Florida to remind me, among other topics, that the University of Michigan plays Michigan State in football today. It is a work weekend for me and I had totally forgotten. I usually only know the football schedule in order to know when it’s “safe” to drive around the Planet Ann Arbor. But then, later I found out that The Commander was actually watching the football game. So, whatever. btw: Love You Don!! <3
• “Chelsea” called and I thought at first that she was just a telephone solicitor. I told her no thanks. And then. All of a sudden, my brain caught up with my mouth for once, and I asked, “Wait, who did you say you were?” Milligan’s Landscaping. The firewood people. We’d been talking about buying wood and we’ve been buying it from Dave Milligan for a few years now, so I backed up quick and around three this afternoon, I received a face cord of firewood. Yay! I’m gonna stack it fifteen minutes a day…
• “Where the hell have you been?” asked The Commander when I called her tonight. We won’t go into everything The Comm had to say. At least not this time. She’s fine. That’s why I don’t obsess about calling her every day or week or whatever. I am lucky to have such a cool, independent octogenarian moom. 🙂 But I should call her more often. But she reads my blahg…
• “Mama, I got stung by a bee!” A call from Lizard Breath. It was her first bee sting. By the time I actually *talked* to her between missed messages and voice mails, et al, she was fine. I knew she would be. There are some people in the world who are horribly allergic to bee stings. I am not. Grandroobly was not. I haven’t heard of *anyone* in Moomin Fin Family or Courtois who *are* allergic.

I have to credit my dear Uncle Harry for the expression “Epitome of Cutosity.” He wasn’t looking at this picture when he said it but I’ll never forget who he *was* looking at. As for the not fighting? Roight!

Hmmm, I wonder who is teaching The Indefatigable to talk. I have my suspicions…

Karen reports a trickle of trick ‘r’ treaters and Jay only had five. We had a few more but it was still pretty quiet. It rained here but that was toward the end of the night. We didn’t even seem to get a whole lot of the usual outsiders, the kids that get dropped off by the vanload. What is it? Are people scared to send their kids out? Do they really think everybody in every house is a child molester? Or that the candy is poisoned? Or are they afraid their kids will get a “sugar high”? Or is it because it was a school night? Or what?

I think we need to get over all of these stupid fears and learn to have fun again. I don’t care if kids get bused in to my neighborhood (well, unless there get to be TOO many). I don’t care if high school kids trick ‘r’ treat. Or even college kids. I don’t care if babies who are “too young” to trick ‘r’ treat are out there. Heck, I don’t even care if they think they are celebrating that great American holiday “Shoe On”!

Halloween is a FUN holiday! It is safe (in my neighborhood anyway) if people use common sense. A little bit of extra sugar once a year is not going to hurt anyone. Most kids are only excited about all that sugar for a few days anyway. I know. Along about Easter, I always used to throw out tons of uneaten Halloween candy. And heck, they’re probably already all sugared out from the festivities that go on at school on Halloween. Be safe. But go trick ‘r’ treating. Have fun. *We* have fun handing out candy. We need more trick ‘r’ treaters!

P.S. Click here or on the old, rusty Indefatigable for a few more pics.