Sydney and I went to Mother’s today and his feet are green from walking in the cut grass. And we took some pictures of places we think Shane will like when he comes up tomorrow.

We think he will like running on the east yard.

We also believe he will be nosing around in the grape arbor.

And, of course, a mighty tree.

Shane –  home in Indiana.

We came out of Illinois at Cairo after descending through the Shawnee National Forest – and interstate with trees on both sides and sometimes in a larger than usual median strip. We saw the bridge from one ridge and then wound our way to it – up and over and we were on flat land stretching out on both sides. And then it got flatter and the trees farther apart – flatter and, I think, lower. I found it eerie, with trees that became increasingly like telephone poles with short little branches. All through Missouri and Arkansas – flat, flat, flat, with only haze-blurred distant mutant-looking trees.

I knew we had lost a lot of altitude but it didn’t really reach the part of my brain that was getting lost by the old Blytheville AFB and trying to keep my mind clear on the exits through Memphis to our motel. Coming back I wasn’t lost, but my mind was on the furry passenger in the back.

Finally, finally, we saw the Cairo sign again and were on the bridge and over . . . and almost immediately into dense trees. We were climbing – not too steeply, but definitely going up. I think I felt the pressure in my ears change a little and the air seemed clearer. I remember wondering if Shane were feeling an increased energy (Oh, Lord) away from the lowlands of Houston.

It rained Sunday as we were coming through Indiana; it rained and was cold on Monday. Yesterday was very chilly with showers . . . and today the sun is out and the temperature is supposed to be in the low 70’s.

I had thought I’d run up to Mother’s by myself and mow the necessary areas, but now I am thinking maybe, just maybe we need to take Shane up home; Sydney could stay here and rest and have a break from telling Shane to remember he was a “trainee”.

I have been thinking more and more about the task of cleaning in Mother’s house and today a vision of a shop vac floated into my head. So I researched them on the Internet and went out and got one. Boy, can it suck and with a two and half inch hose, things don’t get stuck. I have tested it and it pulled the carpet right up off the porch floor. So, I am going to move large things to one area, put little stuff in boxes and then turn on my sucker. Sorry about that; I meant I would turn on my vac . . . and SUCK, SUCK, SUCK. Obviously, this machine is tweaking the feral traits in me.

Heck, I wonder if I could suck up a whole mouse?

The folks here are looking at the photos we took on our trip – none of which were taken during the last day . . . the transporting Shane day. Don’t know why, unless it was me driving and Cameron continuously playing with him in the back seat.

Speaking of Cameron, I must say he proved to be a very big help and very responsible in looking after Shane’s welfare. (This morning when Shane saw Cameron was awake, he dropped his squeaky Kong Wubba on his face.)

This is the model of the house we lived in at Blytheville AFB (now Eaker); part of the housing is now the property of Westminister retirement living . . . or something like that.

This is the floor plan.

I could show you a picture of me, AmeliaJake, from those days, but it would be difficult to correspond the 2010 AJ with the 1973 floor plan.

And this is Quentin and Shane in Memphis.

Later I will post a couple of pictures of the part of the housing that has not been refurbished . . . those would have been taken before a security guard with a goatee on an angular face and a southern accent told us we shouldn’t be there. He wasn’t too understanding about my having lived there all those decades ago with a member of the Air Force who was actually in the B-52’s.

However, when I pulled out of the base onto a four-lane road and a Gossnell officer stopped me for going too fast for the posted limit, she gave me a verbal warning when I answered her question about being unfamiliar with the area with the story of long ago.

Sarah GRISMORE Eileen

This is the bag I gave Mother a couple of Christmases ago. When she was sick I loaded it up with stuff from her house and papers and whatever and when we went to the hospital with Der Bingle, I upended it and loaded it with his stuff . . . and whatever. Now it has gone to Tennessee to pick up Shane and bring him back to Indiana. I don’t know where it will be going next; I guess we will see.

We don’t have a George with us, but I couldn’t resist. I figure the founders of Mount Vernon, Illinois had GW in mind when they named the place. However, I suppose everyday a farm boy walked to this spot where a school wagon picked him up, the driver giving  the command, “Mount! Vernon.” I don’t think so, though.

We discovered Midwest policeman are forming motorcycle wolf packs. One holds a radar gun at a group of cars and others zoom out and catch them. We drove slowly and witnessed many revenue enhancing situations.

We were thinking of going down in a half hour for Kickback free food here at the motel, but I just realized we are now on CENTRAL TIME and so must add another hour on to that. That’s okay. Oh, by the way, a Steak & Shake is very, very, very close and I suspect Cameron may hike over for a milkshake tonight.

I don’t want this to get out of hand. It’s just three days. Three. And one and a half of those with an unknown dog. So I looked at the pile of stuff I had accumulated in the sitting room and decided that I am driving to Mount Vernon, Il in jeans and a shirt with many pockets. Once there I may put on a clean shirt and, depending on the temperature, shorts. At night pajama pants. The next day, probably the clean shirt from the day before and jeans (or shorts) to drive to Memphis and then a change into a sort of beat-up shirt with pockets and jeans. I might sleep in these given the factor of “the dog”.  Memo: keep the key card buttoned in one of my  shirt pockets for midnight nature outings. Then early the next morning another beat-up multi-pocket shirt . . . uh, the white cotton vented one that can be bleached –  and old khaki pants with pockets on the legs.

Well, that made the pile a lot smaller.

I hope Shane has thought this through and is packing light. Collar, leash, jammies.

Arriving home, I expect to be covered with paw prints, doggy saliva and crumbs from dog snacks – not to mention dripped condiments from drive-thru fast food.  Der Bingle sent us a portable Bissell hair eraser vacuum from amazon.com – it sort of looks like a cat.

I started thinking about going alllll the way to Memphis, picking up Shane, trying to sleep in a “pet friendly hotel” and driving alll the way back home.  Our new plan is to leave on Friday and go approximately six hours and then stop and do the flop on the bed thing; Cameron can explore the hotel – I see me as a flopper. He’ll have to locate the ice machine, though. I imagine that will be his prime directive.

THEN four hours into Memphis and getting Shane settled in. Then the 10 hour push home. Pushes home are always not that bad . . . and I certainly hope I have not jinxed moi-self.

We have a Kong Wubba * waiting for Shane; Quentin says it is his favorite toy. It came in an Amazon.com box two days ago and looks like a colorful sap you see in in gangster shows. Suddenly I have the idea to get a pitching machine and load it with Wubbas and let Shane run and run and run . . . until he is very tired and wants to lie quietly and sleep. Might be a good investment.

We have another concern: Sydney will run right up to the property line and/or road and stop. Quentin says Shane has a tendency to take off. So there may be a lot of long leashing and fence slat nailing and me yelling “SHANE!!!!!!!” And, of course, there is the matter that I never really cared for the name Shane since I don’t particularly care for Alan Ladd and the movie of that name. It is probably too late to change his name to Duke . . . or Percy, for that matter, which in the latter case is good.

It is Collaboration Wednesday but there is a two-hour delay for fog, although the fog is spotty enough, I thing the weather condition should be referred to as “frequent foggies to be expected”. Once in the northern suburbs of Cincinnati, I drove down into a low spot and was surrounded by fog. Unfortunately, I rolled down my window and the fog rolled in the car; I shut my window. Sometime after climbing back up the hill I realized I was driving a fog-filled car in  clear air that even had sun. Jeez-Louise.

The high today is predicted to be 58 and that is about 15 degrees higher than yesterday. We are having rain on a lot of days and are chilled and damp . . . but the grass keeps growing. I need sheep for Mother’s yard. I suppose I should put up posters: Uncle Sam wants Ewe. No, I shouldn’t. Sometimes I just don’t know what happens to my mind.

* I originally thought the Kong in Kong Wubba referred to it being a King Kong version; no, Kong is the name of the company.

Saturday Cameron and I will be getting up very early to head off to Memphis where we will meet up with Quentin; Quentin will have Shane with him. This is Shane when he was little:

And this is Shane now that he is bigger:

We will be bringing him back to Indiana with us. We hope he likes us . . . He may be like the dog in Marley and me.

And this summer, we will take him up through these gates –

And he will get to spend lots of time running here at Quentin’s Grandma Sarah’s.

Maybe I’ll dig out one of my dad’s old jackets for him to cuddle on. Daddy would like that.

But first – the road trip . . .