A Day of Heat and Sales

I went to Sissy's to sell books this morning, thinking that the citywide rummage sale would bring customers into town, but the heat kept everyone away. Dogs could have slept safely in the middle of Main Street. I had shade for three hours at least, so was not uncomfortable. Having ice cream helped but I gave up at 1:00 pm. My conclusion is that selling books in one's hometown is near to impossible.

In the afternoon, I went to rummage sales myself and found that the sellers, too, suffered from lack of buyers. I walked around a lot and found nothing worth buying except for one jacket. I didn't really need another jacket, but it was brand new, with the store tags still attached.  Originally $24.99, I got it for $1.00. It matches the pair of jeans I bought in Florence last week for 50 cents. Now I have the complete ensemble.

Yesterday, I found a small cupboard at the moving sale next door. It is exactly like the one we have in our kitchen, but when I called Gary on the cell phone, he said we absolutely had to have another so I bought that. That is not a sale I liked because it means that Elaine is moving some time next week. Thirty years of neighborly friendship over.  I like to think we'll keep that going, but my experience is that it won't.

Tomorrow, I'll be busy editing my share of the new Black Coffee Fiction collection.  Wade, Betty and I are aiming at having an e-book ready in a couple of weeks and a paperback by mid-October. My share will be about the happenings in the village of Glen Valley. It is fiction, but it does help to write about what I know.

Another Day

I am finding it impossible to go home the sensible way.  Two trips back to Seymour ago, I wound up on the Chute Pond Overlook near to breaking a leg but not telling anyone where I had gone.  Last trip, I was driving on back roads through the Nicolet-Chequamagon National Forest and getting lost while running out of gas.

Today, I started to head into Iron Mountain to go down Highway 189 and on south saving gas and time but I remembered the road construction. Wouldn't it be better to go south on Highway 73 through Nelma and Alvin to Highway 8, go east to Laona and south from there?  I made the turn and kept going.

Nelma and Alvin are in Wisconsin and once I was there, I realized I was on Wisconsin State Highway 55.  I knew that would lead me through some interesting places. I decided I didn't need to go to Laona after all, even if I didn't get my usual cappuccino there.

As it turned out, it added almost an hour to my trip because 55 has some of the hilliest and curving roads in northern Wisconsin.  No matter.  So instead of my usual cappuccino stop in Laona, it was in Crandon where I found Chocolate Covered Strawberry flavor. Yum.  How far to Shawano? I asked. About an hour, I was told.  If I sped?  Better not.  Too many curves and deer everywhere. In the end, it took an hour and a half through places like Pickerel, Lily, and Langlade and then the Menominee Reservation.  Always there was the forest and occasional glimpses of one of the ten most pristine rivers in the nation, the Wolf.

That is where memories took over.  When I was a child, our family used to go on picnics at a waterfall on the Wolf River. Now I can't remember the name of the place but I do remember that we drove there on gravel roads.  Often there were trees in the center of the road.  Shotgun Eddy was there, too, and I always thought the raft rides were run by somebody by that name.  Years later, Gary explained that at that point of the Wolf River, the water shot through on a particular eddy that made for an exciting whitewater raft ride.

On I went past Neopit where I once told stories at a school of Menominee children. Decades ago politicians convinced the tribe to turn their reservation into a county.  It was a disaster as Native Americans were tricked into selling plots of land.  Finally, they fought back and re-established the reservation.  Today, the tribe survives through their own lumber industry ... and of course the casino.

Great blue heron flew over.  They always amaze me and as always, I never think of a camera until it is too late.

At Keshena, I stopped to look at the falls.  And then I was out of the woods and back in my home territory and soon home.

Tonight I look at the map of Wisconsin and wonder how I should go home next time.  

The Perfect Purse

I don't even remember what year I bought the purse but I remember where. It was at the Oshkosh, Wisconsin St. Vincent de Paul store and I remember who I was with, my friend Norma. It was a black leather purse, on sale for a dollar. It was love at first sight.

Every purse had pockets but this purse had all the pockets in the right places. My patent leather wallet and checkbook fit in the deepest part of the purse. In a pinch (like when I'm trying to carry on as much as I can when I take a flight), my notebook computer can go in there. There was a little zippered pocket in the back of that area for my business cards. In the next pocket at the front there was a space for clip on pens and a small sudoku book plus a zippered pocket for makeup.

A leather flap came over those areas. The interior of that flap held a comb, a small brush and a pair of glasses. The exterior held a small notebook and more pens, including a Sharpie I could whip out should I need to sign a book or two.

At the back of the purse another zippered place for my passport and other important travel papers.

The purse had a thick adjustable strap that made the purse perfect to hang over my shoulder. With a quick adjustment, it went over my head and crossed my chest, making it nearly impossible for a purse snatcher to grab without taking me with it.

There was only one flaw. On the strap was a pouch for a cell phone. Unfortunately, the old cell phone I had didn't fit there, so I either kept the phone in my pocket or shoved it into one of the front pockets, that is until Gary bought me a new cell phone this spring. Now everything fit fine but by then the purse was wearing out. The fine leather was wearing thin, looking gray in spots. The snap on the front flap no longer snapped. Pieces of leather were poking out at weird angles.

That purse had been traveling with me for years through one trip to China, two to Canada and countless states here in the USA. I began looking for an identical replacement at least two years ago. I found the purse by surfing the Internet through places like E-bay and Craig's List, but it seemed silly to replace a purse I bought for a dollar with one that would cost me at least $30 plus shipping and handling. It was back to the thrift shops and yard sales. I looked everywhere. The purse section was the first place I hit. I went to every St. Vincent de Paul store I could find from Mississippi to Michigan, from Washington State to Colorado.(I haven't been east lately.) Goodwill and Salvation Army stores had my attention, too.

In February in Jacksonville, Illinois, I was heading to the purse section at a St. Vinnie's where I came upon a woman with the exact same purse going through piles of purses. She, too, was looking for a replacement. With more than me looking for the perfect purse, what chance did I have?

But today, in Florence, Wisconsin, EUREKA!! There was the perfect purse. It was three dollars, which Gary said was way too much to replace a dollar purse, but I had to have it. Not only was it the same purse, it was new. It had never been used.

I am now changing over contents to my brand new perfect purse. I may keep the old one though. We've been through so much together and who knows? I may need a replacement a decade from now. A few stitches, a new snap and some polish.....

Crossword Puzzles

Gary left early this morning to go to Seymour and Appleton to take care of things down there and go to see his doctor.

I was here at Lake Ottawa alone.  I hiked around, read, fed the chipmunks, wrote, and generally took it easy.  In the evening, the lake was glimmering through the trees.  Anita stopped by and invited me to her campsite fire until Gary returned.  But that is not what I want to write about.

When I returned from Seymour last time, for the life of me I could not remember if I had turned off the air conditioner. It bothered me that I might have left it running, wasting electricity. Gary said we were both forgetting things and that we had better start working on our memories.  His suggestion was that we do crossword puzzles. I was pretty good at them years ago so thought that would be no problem. I found a couple of crossword puzzle books at Dollar General created by one Myles Mellor and started working.

I hate Myles Mellor.

The puzzles were harder than I expected. Mellor is a trickster. Few of the clues are straightforward. He likes puns ... and at my expense. I curse him daily.

One of my problems is that I don't keep up with so-called "culture".  I don't know television shows, rock bands, movies. I do know art and literature, but that doesn't get me through an entire puzzle.Don't even get me started on scientific terms.  I have been cursing those damned crossword puzzles for a week.

Then Gary went to Seymour and found out that indeed I had turned off the air conditioner. I am not as forgetful as I thought. So why am I putting myself through this puzzle business?      

Anita Returns

We discovered this morning that our camp host Anita had not com back from Iron Mountain as she said she would. She had left Labor Day with plans to celebrate her birthday with her children. We were the only people at the Lake Ottawa campground. That would change as the day went on with four other campsites filled though with older people with no children or dogs.

We are a quiet bunch at this time of year. We watch the leaves begin to change and listen to the geese overhead as they form their flocks for the journey south. New England asters, brown eyed Susan, tansy, and goldenrod are still in bloom but the nights turn ever colder. Tonight the temperatures will be in the thirties.

Gary and I continued to fret about Anita. She should have been tearing around sweeping out the toilets and inserting toilet paper rolls in the holders. She hadn't collected the slips from the sites that had been filled by the Labor Day revelers. We knew her routine so well after all these years.

Gary decided someone should take care of things. He went around and collected the slips from the posts, marking each one with the campsite number for her records. He swept out the toilets and filled the holders with rolls from Anita's stores. We knew where she kept them. We answered questions the other campers had. As the afternoon progressed, he looked up her phone number in Iron Mountain and we called but only got the answering machine.

It was in late afternoon that the familiar black pickup truck showed up at our campsite. Anita climbed out with a Styrofoam cup. “I need tea.” She had her own tea bag, she is no sponger. All we had to do was boil water.

So we talked for over an hour about her birthday parties. (There were two, one with friends, one with family.) The festivities went on so long, she decided to sleep in her Iron Mountain home and slept late at that. So we had nothing to worry about, Anita was only out partying.

At 82, I guess she can do what she wants.  

Moose and Murder

As Gary and I left Lake Ottawa to go on a road trip, the campground was clearing out. On Sunday night there were seventeen campsites filled, some of them with dogs that barked all day and some of the night. It was cold and rainy last night so we hoped it would drive the owners out and leave us in peace, but in the meantime, we would spend the day elsewhere.

I've been to Canada seven times and have yet to see a moose in the wild. I tell the Canadians I meet that moose are figments of their imaginations.  We have been told there are moose in Upper Michigan so we were off to find one. Gary searched the Internet and found several locations that looked promising.  First we tried the Amasa-Bates Road which is near Iron River.  We scanned the swamps. No moose.

Next we drove to Van Riper State Park near Michigamme. The park attendant suggested two locations. First we took the road to Craig Lake.  We drove miles and miles through beautiful forest and never got to the lake and never saw a moose. All we saw was one ruffed grouse. Next we tried to find the road to Dishno Lake but never found it. We need better county maps. We finally gave up and ate lunch. Moose were not in the cards for me in spite of the "moose crossing" signs along the highways.

Instead we went to Big Bay. One of Gary's favorite movies is Anatomy of a Murder, based on a book by the same name Robert Traver. James Stewart, Lee Remick, George C. Scott, Ben Gazarra, Eve Arden and others starred in the movie. Joseph ("Have you no decency")  Welch played the judge. The movie was filmed at Big Bay. We drove around looking at the town and the movie sites, first stopping at the Big Bay Lighthouse.

I am very fond of light houses and this one is a pretty bed and breakfast. Maybe we will stop there some day. Gary stopped at Big Bay Outfitters to donate some money to the Yellow Dog Watershed project to help fight yet another nickle mine that would destroy the pristine environment up there.

We came home on Highway 550, stopping at Yellow Dog Falls, hiking along the shore line of the river. We kept looking at every swamp on the way home, but no moose were to be found.  The kid who made sandwiches for us at Subway told me he sees them all the time at Amasa.

When we got back to Lake Ottawa, we were the only campers left.

The only moose I saw during the day was the moose head at a display  at Van Riper State Park. The plaque said it was the head of a moose shot in Canada. I don't believe it.

Upper Peninsula House Hunting

Gary and I are interested in living in Michigan's Upper Peninsula so we are in house hunting mode. This does not mean an imminent move.  His sister Kathe has been looking at houses for over a decade and has not found the one she wants yet.  Still, we are finding interesting places.

The one we like is adjacent to the Ottawa National Forest.  It has four bedrooms, three bathrooms, a hot tub, lots of storage space, a workshop, garage, and plenty of acreage. The house is on a highway that would be plowed out after each storm, but was surrounded by trees so there would be no highway noise. We would be close to Iron Mountain and the hospital. We would be within walking distance of Lake Ottawa. Cost, close to $300,000.  Unless I win the lottery in the next few weeks, we won't be making an offer on that one.

Today we looked at two more houses.  One was in a suburb of Iron Mountain. It was a good price, but did we want close neighbors?  Plus the house was too small for Gary. We checked that one off our list right away.

Then we looked at a house on Highway 189. Though that is a  busy highway, the two story house is set back. It was big enough for Gary with lots of storage space. I liked the raised garden beds and the greenhouse.  The house is backed by forest. One could expect visits by all kinds of critters. The price is exactly right.

The problem?  The house is across the street from Bigari's Ace Hardware.  Gary's eyes gleamed at the thought of access to that mammoth warehouse of a hardware store. For a pack rat like Gary it would be heaven, but to my way of thinking it would be like an alcoholic renting an apartment above a bar.

We will look some more.