Archive for April, 2012

Geeking along on the backwoods 2-tracks of the northern Great Lake State

Tuesday, April 10th, 2012

Actually that was last weekend. And yes, we were really listening to Casey Kasem re-runs on satty-lite radio. I remember when I was all snobby about satty-lite radio. I don’t need no stinkin’ satty-lite radio. Of course, I am lucky if I can figure out how to *work* a car radio or climate controls or whatever. One of my claims to notoriety was when I was driving the Uncly Uncle’s caddy-lac and I was futzing with the temperature thingy and accidentally called the OnStar operator. Yikes, sorry ma’am, no emergency here. “No problem,” she said, in her gorgeously smooth voice.

What I liked about today? It snowed! Really. I mean I really liked it, not that it snowed in April. We often get snow in April around these parts. Today was one of those gray, bone chillingly cold April days when the sky spat snowflakes at us all day long. It is actually close to 40 degrees but feels colder. A day when it would’ve been nice to veg out and read a book under a quilt with a faaarrrr going in the faaaarrrplace. Or hang out in a cozy little dog-poopy cubicle.

What I didn’t like about today? What the heck is up with all of the road construction all of a sudden? I mean, I know it is the season but all last week my little 8-mile commute was just about as smooth as it could be. This week? OMG. MDOT: Unexpected lane closures *anywhere* on South State Street are going to create major backups. A little more warning please? It’s gonna get worse. They’re building a new Costco on Ellsworth (that’s near where I work). I do not know why we need yet another big warehouse-type store in that area. It is going to turn a busy-but-tolerable traffic situation into a nightmare. And then there’s the round-about “they” are planning for the Ellsworth-S. State intersection. Don’t ask. You do not want to know.

The first entry in the “I want to call my mom but I can’t” category? Her granddaughter Valdemort has won the “Biggest Female Nerd Contest”. This thing is sponsored by George Takei. Apparently he was a Star Trek actor? (I know the name Takei because my aunt R’s husband was a Takei. She is very proud of the fact that he was from a samurai family and would go on and on and on about it. Is he related to George? Oh, who knows…) Anyway, this stuff is all playing out on facebook so I can’t really link to it but we are proud of our own Valdemort for her 15 minutes of fame and I hope she has many more of those 15 minuteses.

Alas, during the last year of The Commander’s life, this kind of news would have been very hard for me to convey to her so that she could understand it. She did *not* have dementia. Not at all. She knew darn well who her grandchildren were and what they were doing (well, at least as much as *I* ever knew and maybe sometimes a bit more…). She was exceedingly proud of all of them until the end. But there was much dysphasia (spelling?) the last couple years and it was often excruciatingly difficult to find the right words to share family news with The Comm.

At any rate, I’m sure that wherever The Comm is, she is very proud of Valdemort and, although I think Val was the best candidate and won fair and square, I can’t help but wonder if The Comm slipped a few extra votes in there from the other side. The Commander was computer literate almost up until the end of her 91 years. Grandroobly and The Engineer may be driving the Edmund Fitz around but I’m sure the Comm is running all the computers.

Big butter Jesus

Monday, April 9th, 2012

A late Easter dinner at Chez Landfill. I wish I could say we had Ham, Yam, and Cham but actually we did not have yams. We had regular old mashed potatoes. Asparagus (alas, not from The Botanist’s garden) and a green salad rounded out the meal. I guess butter played a big role. What the heck?

Our Easter this year was sublime. Maybe not quite as sublime as the year the temperatures were in the 80s and we dumped our kayaks down in the Huron River but it was pretty dern sublime. We woke up at Houghton Lake and after I took my regular morning walk over to the second bridge and back, we drove down to the Little Boots restaurant. I ordered my usual gunslingers quesadilla (and a box to take some home for breakfast the next day) and we had a great time listening to the local movers and shakers who meet there every Sunday.

After that I wanted to go on an expotition so we headed down to Snow Bowl Road. I can’t help wondering if we took that direction because the GG overheard one of the locals talking about the child of a respected local business owner robbing houses down there or not. It happens. Anyway, we took off from Snow Bowl onto various 2-tracks for a beautiful drive.

Back to the cabin and then down the I75 SUV Speedway, except for a side trip down M13 so the GG could buy some 12-year-old cheese. And then a walking trip to the Plum Market for salad materials. For our Easter dinner, which happened late because the guest of honor (aka Mouse) had to work until 7:00. Fun anyway…

 

Traveling light

Sunday, April 8th, 2012

I’ll never forget the time that I was driving across town for about the bajillionth time after dropping Lizard Breath off at nursery school. Dinosaurs were on and Mouse was musing in her car-seat. “Moom, I wish that when we went to Houghton Lake, we could just take our whole house with us.” Well. Hmmm… Yes. I don’t exactly know what vision Mouse had of this but *I* had this vision of us driving up the I75 SUV Speedway towing the Landfill in the air behind us. We didn’t have anywhere near as much “stuff” then as we do now but even then I could imagine “stuff” falling out along the way.

For many many years, it seemed like we *did* take our whole house to Houghton Lake every time we went. This started even before we had a house or any beach urchins. Telescopes and calculus books and a few fiber arts prodjects (that I mostly never finished) and I remember hauling a big old Sony Trinitron out of my little gold Fiesta in a raging snowstorm through blowing and drifting snow. Why? Because that was what we were using for a monitor with our computer, which was an Apple II+.

And then the beach urchins arrived and things got kicked up a notch. Toys and strollers and potty chairs and stuffed aminals and a playpen sometimes and I don’t even remember all of the baby paraphernalia we used to haul. And books. Did I mention books? Throughout her childhood, Lizard Breath wouldn’t even get into the car to go to the Westgate Kroger without assembling a stack of books for the 1.5 mile drive over there.

We did get beyond the potty seat era. To any parents of toddlers who may have stumbled over here somehow, toilet training does eventually end. Of course it’s only a few short years after that until driver’s ed and, if your luck is bad enough, sex and drugs (disclaimer: I had good luck on that. I dunno why. I don’t think it was related to anything I did or didn’t do.). Anyway, the most recent “era” was the electronical crap era. Cameras of all sizes and sorts and iPods and all of the assorted cords and batteries and memory cards that go with that stuff.

And that’s not to mention food and clothing (enough clothing to last the weekend without laundry facilities) and sleeping bags and kayaks and binoculars and implements of too much fun and skis and telescopes (did I already mention those?). Oh yeah, and computers. Always computers…

This weekend? I had a bag of clothing. I had enough clothing to deal with whatever weather conditions Mother Nature might decide to throw at us. I had a backpack with my laptop, iPad, the power cords to both of those plus the power cord for my main computer, which is also my phone, which I carry in my pocket. Sleeping bags, one bag of food, and somehow Froggy and Green Guy managed to sneak their band of merrymakers into the Frog Hopper. (Yes, we are still hauling stuffed aminals…) We don’t really need to take sleeping bags. I’m just too lazy to fuss around with changing beds and washing sheets.

Arriving at home today, I had a half grocery bag of recycling and a small bag of garbage, both of which I dumped into the appropriate carts on my way in the door. A few food items to put away and I did some laundry but the clothes I schlepped home were *clean* because I could actually wash them in an actual washer and dryer at Houghton Lake.

What’s the point, KW? Just that not keeping track of a lot of “stuff” makes for a stress free trip. And this was one of the more stress free trips I have taken in a while. Of course, the weather and lack of traffic probably helped. Not to mention that there is a new cabin now, one that has hot running water year-round.

P. S. Thank you thank you thank you to all of the Courtois in-laws who have gotten stuck with washing our dirty towels over the last couple of years when we used the place as a hotel on the way to the yooperland. I did my own laundry this weekend. Love you all!

You know you want some ostrich jerky…

Saturday, April 7th, 2012

I took the photooo below as we were heading due west this morning from the Houghton Lake area to a section of the North Country Trail that follows along the Manistee River.

We had cloudless blue skies the whole day. It was in the 20s when I got up this morning and I made the GG stop at a gas station a few miles away from our trailhead destination so I could de-layer a bit, namely get rid of the DKNY tights that serve as both biz-caz winter hosiery and long underwear. That rather difficult operation required a bathroom.

We have never hiked this part of the North Country Trail before. When we got to the trailhead, the GG asked me if I wanted a hiking stick. I hemmed and hawed and asked what the trail would be like. I didn’t get a straight answer. Neither of us have hiked this trail before. I said no… Maybe not the best idea. The first quarter mile or so of our hike was straight up, or so it seemed. I was thinking something like, “I am gonna die!” (Why didn’t all of those walks I took up and down the Sault Ste. Siberian escarpment this winter prepare me for this…)

Anyway, once we got to the top, the view was something like this!

Our total hiking mileage was close to nine miles today. This was an absolutely gorgeous section of the trail. Here’s the GG at one of the high points.

And here is yer fav-o-rite blahgger. Playing bejeweled? Probably not on this trip… 😉

And then, we went down to Dublin (and my dern GPS thingy can’t even find Dublin in its database…) But there is the best jerky/grokkery store in Dublin. Just please do not buy the ostrich jerky. It will stink the heck out of your vee-hickle.

This was one of the most bee-yoo-tifful driving days ever. Totally blue skies all day and no wind. I drove us back to Houghton Lake from Dublin. Past Mitchell Lake and Cadillac Lake in the city of Cadillac and Missaukee Lake in Lake City. Driving from Lake City to Houghton Lake, I was going 70 (which is waaaay above the speed limit) but it felt like 50.

Home again… I took a long, hot shower and washed my hiking clothes. I couldn’t figger out where the GG was for a while but then I saw him down in the water putting up dock sections. In early April…

We sat outside and drank cocktails in the late afternoon and I heard a neighbor tell some children, “You can go down as far as the Courtois place but don’t go any further.” The Courtois place is *our* place and we sat out there and talked to the neighbor’s little girls and their dad when he came out. Life is good today. I hope it stays that way for a while…

Do you think the earth’s oil light is on because the earth is at a slant?

Friday, April 6th, 2012

The last time we were here at the Group Home @ Houghton Lake was New Year’s weekend. I am not counting the time we dropped off the 1970s era boob tube and then continued on to Gaylord.

There is a certain freedom involved in losing your last parent. Maybe that doesn’t sound like a nice thing to say but it is a very real part of the whole experience, especially when you have spent the last year or whatever helplessly watching your parent’s quality of life deteriorate. Of course the corollary to this is the suddenly less hazy realization that you are next. Not that I’m planning on that next happening for a long time but still, waking up at that batscope hour of the night has taken on a whole new meaning. Today I looked at Twitter in the middle of a busy workday and a friend of mine (who *rarely* tweets) had tweeted: “Yowser! I just crossed a state line!” Does that sound exciting? Probably not, especially given that it was probably the Ohio state line. Nevertheless, a short but intense onslaught of emotions hit me. My friend has recently finished her own variation of the journey that the Commander and I took over the last year.

Like me, my friend has spent a lot of time this last year in her parents’ house, the house she grew up in. I know that she loves that house. I love The Commander’s house. It isn’t even the house I grew up in although it’s where I have visited my entire adult life and the only house the beach urchins remember. But after all these years, it isn’t home any more. Or not exactly. While I was staying there I was wishing with all my heart that Apple would make an iPhone apparation app so that I could apparate between my shabby but loverly old landfill and The Commander’s house or hoosegow room or wherever. Hmmm, maybe now that Steve Jobs is over there on the other side we’ll get one of those?

When I finally got to go home, I cried all the way through the Plum Market. I think I wrote about this a while back. My friend is on her way home now. I know how much she wants to be home in her own house doing her own familiar routines like walking to Trader Joe’s and the library and the neighborhood park. I didn’t have to cross any state lines when I went home but I know the feeling.

I don’t know if the earth’s oil light is on but the Frog Hopper’s oil light was on all the way up here. You are wondering something like, “Why the heck didn’t you pull over?” Because this particular oil light indicates that the oil level is low. There’s another oil light that means PULL OVER RIGHT NOW! And our oil level is not low. I made the GG check it before we got on the freeway. According to the boooook, the reason the light was on was because before we left, the vee-hickle was parked at a (barely perceptable) “slant” over at the Plum Market and THAT situation can apparently “fool” the vee-hickle’s “brain” into thinking that the oil level is low. Because the oil is sloshing around. This did not make any sense to me given the particular situation. I mean, parking in San Francisco maybe… Anyway, the way to make the blasted light go out is to idle a bit (like at a stoplight) after the engine warms up (there’s a little blue thermometer light that goes out when the engine is warmed up). I got onto the I75 SUV Speedway before either of those conditions were met and so I had to look at the blasted oil light all the way up. I was annoyed and I didn’t believe the nonsense about idling for a couple minutes or whatever. But guess what? When I pulled into the yard at the HL Group Home, I let the Frog Hopper idle for may be five seconds and yes, the blasted light went out!

Hee hee hee! Did any of this make any sense? I don’t care!

Aaannnd then there’s the “library”

Thursday, April 5th, 2012

I have only made some small inroads into this loverly basement-type room. Main reason? It’s mostly not my stuff! How many computers can you count? I know the photoooo is a bit fuzzy but I can count three. A couple of those old giraffe-style iMacs and I *think* that old-skool thingy there is our old PowerMac/PowerPC. That thing that looks like a big industrial chimney back there is a telescope. I’m not sure what’s in the garbage bag and then there are those boxes of orange extension cords. I actually use those once in a while…

I remember how excited I was when the old PowerMac/PowerPC got delivered. It was 1996 and We had been limping along using a crippled old-skool Powerbook laptop for a while. When I say old-skool, I mean from the early 1990s. It was *not* easy to haul around like my 21st century laptops and I will never forget the day that it made the dern deep-shit sound when the neighbor’s kids that I used to “watch” before school some mornings were there and they got into a fight while I was troubleshooting the problem. Yeah, I know… Why would anyone ever trust me to watch their kids?

And then the PowerMac/PowerPC got kind of fried a few months later when we had an ice storm. That was way fun. And yes, it was plugged into a surge protector. But that thing failed. We were in brownout conditions for a few days. We could boil water on the stove — it just took forever for the water to boil. We had heat because the blower motor on our rickety old furnace could work at low amps (or whatever). We’ve upgraded since then and now we are shit outta luck when we lose power.

I don’t know where I am with this post. I could keep talking about all of the new and better computers. And then we got this! And this! And this! And yada yada. But what the heck? They (computers) just get better and better and eventually we upgrade for one reason or another but what’s the point? I mean, I now carry a computer in my pocket (iPhone) that is much more powerful than any of those old dinosaurs in the photooo.

The top story today would’ve been the plane crash at the Planet Ann Arbor airport but I am glad that it isn’t the top story. It isn’t the top story because nobody died!!! A single engine plane, like the ones my dad used to take us up for Sunday drives in, crashed after takeoff today. The pilot was the only person on board and although it took the EMTs a half hour to cut him out of the plane, his injuries were not life-threatening. The Planet Ann Arbor airport is a small municipal airport that does not (as far as I know) handle any commercial flights. It is big enough to handle some small private chartered jets. This is important to me mainly because I work about a half mile south of the airport.

Blowig by doze ad wishig I had sub rosebary sprigs (dot for by doze dough)

Wednesday, April 4th, 2012

I am being brave today, showing y’all my fiber arts studio mess in the Landfill Dungeon. Believe it or not, a LOT of progress has been made down here. And yes, I do have a LOT of fabric…

There was a time when what I wanted to be when I grew up was a quilter. I mean an ART quilter. Problem? I NEVER FINISH ANYTHING!!! Of course, there was also a time when what I wanted to be when I grew up was a musician. And there was that freelance web designer period. And the Indian chief period. And despite what I said a few days ago when I wrote about the Indian chief period, there was a teacher period. Yes, really, but that was before I realized that teaching was more than marking down attendance in a book and grading 2nd grade math papers. Eventually I figured out that if I was a teacher I would have to interact with (you know) *students*. And parents. And… Er, and there was actually a small period of time when I wanted to be a nurse but that was limited to playing with the toy nurse kid kit I received as a get-well gift after I had my tonsils out in 2nd grade. There were candy pills in that kit. In real life I do not do well with bodily fluids and stuff. I GREATLY RESPECT those who do.

Anyway I do have a lot of fabric but I have given myself permission to keep the fabric for this round of flinging. I doubt I’ll ever be an “art” quilter but I may actually get back into some quilting some day. I have also given myself permission to keep the beach urchins’ stuffed aminals for now. (I know they’re reading this.)

I have kind of reached a crossroads in this flinging prodject (intentionally misspelled). There is a lot to do (and there are other rooms in the dungeon that I’m also working on) but I’m not quite sure what to do next. One of the things I am getting rid of now is a bunch of plastic containers that I *used* to store stuff in. I remember buying those containers. For so many years, I was on a constant quest to find ways to store my stuff in some kind of organized way. Guess what? I could never find *anything* when I *wanted* to find it. Why did I keep all that stuff? I was young and I was in an acquisitional stage. I still feel young and I don’t plan on going over to the other side any time soon but nowadays I think before I buy “stuff”. Will I use this? Will it be something I just have to store somewhere? Do I want my kids to have to get rid of it someday? No dumpsters in the driveway here!

So today I headed downstairs to eyeball the situation. What’s next? I’m not quite sure but I have some ideas and I am determined to keep slodging along with my flinging adventure.

It’s my life and I’ll do what I want

Tuesday, April 3rd, 2012

Something like that… ooooor not… Actually, I was rocking to the old Animals song in the couscous aisle over at the Plum Market today. Whaddya mean, the Plum Market doesn’t have a couscous aisle? I should clarify that I was rocking a bit s-l-o-w-l-y and v-e-r-y spacily.

I had already told the guy at the seafood counter that I was really spacey today. I can use that excuse when I’m making a klutz of myself trying to buy salmon but it wouldn’t have worked all that well with my young banker buddy yesterday.

Anyway, I am spacey and slodgy today because I seem to have finally picked up the viral respiratory disease that the GG brought home last week. Oh, it isn’t really all that bad. I am ambulatory. Actually I am ambulatory enough that I walked over to the Plum Market after work today. I hope this is the worst of it. The GG reported a sort of barfy-feeling stage but that came with a headache and I almost never get headaches even when I’m “sick” so I’m hoping I will skip over that.

I don’t know what it is. Grief and mourning are a different journey for everyone in every situation. I don’t remember ever really feeling sad or sorry for myself after losing my brother and dad within a year*. Somehow I was able to just keep on truckin’. But for a long time I couldn’t listen to music much at all. I’m not totally sure why but I think that I actually started to pay attention to lyrics for the first time in my life and boy oh boy, all the sad songs made me so sad I couldn’t listen to them. So I tuned out and for a long time I lived either in silence or with NPR talk radio rumbling along in the background. Music hurt my ears. And that is really strange, considering that I have a music degree. Or maybe it’s not all that strange…

I think those days are past. I still spend more time listening to NPR rumbling along in the background than music but when I am bumbling along in the couscous aisle and some old song from the Jurassic Age comes on, I start boogying along with my cart, humming quietly along or even singing a bit if I want to. I don’t even care what people think. I think I am making some kind of progress here.

So, here’s a video of The Animals singing the title song in a very weird setting “on US TV in 1965”. Whaddya think of those trophies on the walls? <wink>

* The Commander doesn’t seem to have affected my music listening habits but I am not actively sad about her death. There is guilt and second guessing about some things I wish I had handled better and the feeling of freedom that I am enjoying (yes, really, the last year was horrific for both of us). I do know that I am going through a huge decompression stage right now and not sure what’s next. One step at a time…

Who let the flies out?

Monday, April 2nd, 2012

By the time I got to work this morning, I felt as though I had been through a meat grinder. You know that old jump-rope jingle about “doctor, lawyer, Indian chief?” When I was a kid, I always dreamed of being an Indian chief. Lawyer? Not so much. Along with teacher, nurse, and telephone solicitor. So the business of wading through wills and trusts and other pieces of estate paperwork is a slog for me. I mean, I get [sorta] the overall picture but I lack the vocabulary to talk about this stuff with any fluency. Obtuse language anyone?

The worst of it is when I have to go somewhere and ask some unknown (to me) professional to do something for me. What if there’s something wrong with my paperwork? What if I don’t have one (or two or three) of the documents that I need. Like today when I needed to get some stuff done at the bank. When I don’t know [exactly] what I’m doing, I go [sorta] into Dumb Blonde Mode. I state right up front that I don’t really know what I’m doing, even though I know enough about it to know what I want to accomplish. I giggle and laugh and even make small talk. Yes, really. A *bit* of small talk. I hate when small talk derails business conversations.

This morning, I had to go to the bank. Again. When “Dolores”, the teller who used to count my ugly middle school “fun night” deposits, enthusiastically greeted me, I was encouraged. But I knew that she wouldn’t be able to help me with today’s business. She ushered me over to “Brandon’s” desk uttering condolences about mom along the way. I would be in good hands with Brandon, she said.

And I was in good hands because “Brandon” definitely knew his job. But. This guy was the stereotypical CPA-type person. He seemed incapable of cracking even the slightest bit of a smile. Was it because the sun was in his eyes (it was but…). Did he have a migraine? Hmmm… He asked me a question with a term that I only vaguely knew. “Yes!”, I said. “I think…”, I said. He started to look through the ratty old 25-page document I had produced. He couldn’t find evidence. I started panicking. I knew it was in there. I have seen it a billion times. Where? After five loooonnnng minutes with him silently reading my document and me making random dumb-blonde noises… Finally. “Brandon” found what he was looking for on page 17. Whew! Page 17? Who knew?

We said our goodbyes and, as I walked out, baggy old bag that I am, I fell back into middle-school mode just for a few moments, fantasizing that this young turk would be watching me sashay out to my loverly little black Ninja vee-hickle in my black outfit and my fancy new bizcaz-able red suede hiking sandals and maybe think that I was actually not a complete idiot after all! Of course that would be the the vee-hickle that Red-wing Blackbirds routinely attack and seagulls have been known to nap on for hours. Can you say Bird Poop City? Not a cool vee-hickle. Hopefully the next time I have to go to the dern bank for special services, I’ll get “Amanda” or “Monique”.

P.S. “Brandon” did actually show an interest in me as an actual person when we got around to talking about online banking and I mentioned that I worked in that industry. He even cracked a small smile. Did my company provide services to his employer? I think so but I don’t officially know and even if I did, I am not in a position to say affirmatively yes or no.

Successful failure

Sunday, April 1st, 2012

I dunno. There was this huge multi-state lottery pot going on. I didn’t even know about it until a friend started talking about $640M or whatever. I don’t pay attention to the lottery but when I expressed surprise and therefore interest, my friend asked if I wanted in. My reaction was visceral although I delivered my response in a most friendly laugh. NO! My interest was from an anthropological standpoint.

What would I do with 640 million dollars? People seem to be asking each other that a lot lately. I do not know. What would I do? The only thing I can immediately think of that involves spending actual money is to pay off my childrens’ student loans. But what else. Maybe… I would finally get around to re-doing the Landfill Chitchen and maybe even some of the rest of the house. I love the whole ticky-tacky old place but it’s all looking kind of tired to me these days. But even that wouldn’t even begin to eat up $640 million. Soooo. What. I love the automotive vee-hickles that we have already. It might be nice to have more vee-hickles. I know from experience that it is a whole heckuva lot easier to leave a vee-hickle for repairs somewhere for more than a day when you have an “extra” car. But I love the automotive vee-hickles that we have and I am not looking to replace them in the near future.

Other than that, I think I would want to live like I do now. I love my job, so I would want to keep that. I love schlepping back and forth to the Yooperland and Houghton Lake. It would be nice to know that if I needed some fast cash for whatever, I would have it. And that could mean anything from a plumbing backup to a trip to an exotic location or a need for major vee-hickle repairs.