Itching to Get Home
See Escanaba and die, as the saying goes. It’s been a long and wonderful trip, punctuated by random events such as the idiot light on the dashboard informing me that maintenance is required because we passed a pre-set mileage, It’s been a geographic eye opener… we’ve gazed upon all five of the Great Lakes, smelled stinky Lake Champlain, passed easily into Canada and suffered the indignities of return to our own country. On our 14 day trip we visited with five different families and took care of a little business too. As we swooped across Quebec and Ontario I thought of lots of bloggers I’d like to drop in on, and I decided that I’d stick with a single rude, self-invitational imposition this trip and restrict my gregarious nature to lunch with Dean and Susan in New York and a longer get acquainted visit with Dervala and Tim on the greatest lake of all.
Thoughts for serious posts have been boiling up… my Sherman statement - a discourse on why if elected I will not run, and the string of ill choices I made during the Vietnam era… an inquiry into the effect of the Acadamie Francaise on the ris of post-modern thought… a serious disquisition on the two party system and why the Greens better start locally if they want to influence any change…. a naturalist/naturist essay on life in the wilderness, leather leaf, blueberries and the superflous nature of underwear.
The mind is terrible thing.
On this trip I was bitten by three different bugs. A spider got me on Woods Hole, and that ugly bite is finally healing. A black fly took a chunk out of my neck night before last, and a mosquito found its way through my embarrassingly thin top-knot and took a bite of my scalp. I am just itching to get home.