I watch the Discovery program and have done so for all of the seasons. But, until, this morning when I read an online article containing Sig Hansen quotes, I never thought of smelling the program. It’s not the fish or the smell of clothes soaked in seawater that really eluded me. I knew they would be there, just as I knew the cold was there from seeing the ice frozen on the boat. I knew I was lucky to be watching and not really being there and smelling that stuff and shivering. I put all that out of my mind. One of the perks of being a viewer.

But then Sig makes the statement that there is no daily shower on the boat and that everyone pretty much wears the same underwear for the entire voyage – he says you quickly get used to the smell. Well, that’s not working for me and I’m only watching the show. Now, chanting in my mind is “the smell, the smell, the smell . . . ” as I watch the pots of crab come aboard. (And I almost typed “crap” – it is haunting me that much.) Gee, Sig, thanks.

Another thought comes to me . . . Those of you who know me, see me on the boat, or more accurately, see me tying myself to the dock so I don’t have to get on the boat – where I would be a quivering mass of fear, yelling “I’m going to have a heart attack and die . . .” This would be while the boat was still moored.

But let’s pretend I got past that obstacle. Consider this: My walking up to the deck boss and saying, “Umm, don’t you think it would work better if you did it this way . . . ?”

Yes, I am here, on the porch, on a Sunday morning and the first thing that popped into my mind as I clicked on the “write post” entry was “LLBean shorts” and I have no idea why. They are navy blue with a double bottom, sort of like a double boiler. It’s like pockets in back . . . you could actually put something in them, but if it were anything but a handkerchief sitting down might be uncomfortable. Two enormously deep pockets in front and two cargo patch pockets with flaps lower down. I am set – cell phone, camera, extra camera battery, money, car keys. This is tough material, this LLBean stuff . . . and it dries fast. I could live in these shorts. And since I have two pair, I often do. And you know what? I’ll wash them and throw them over the fence to dry in the sun and breeze. When we lived in Palatine and West Chester that would drive some of my neighbors crazy . . . too low class, dontcha know.

Der Bingle has left to return to Georgia. We are sad, but we have done this many, many times. Yesterday we were at Mother’s with Cameron and Summer and buffalo dogs and fried chicken and those bratwurst thingies that I don’t like . . . Shooting the BB gun and firing off bottle rockets and little firecrackers.

On the way back, we passed by many little lake communities and gatherings where big fireworks were going off. As we pulled in the drive, Kendallville was in the middle of its show and we saw them from out back. I think this is the first time I have driven through the hour of celebration and passed through an horizon of America marking its beginning.

I wondered what it would look like from an airplane. From inside the car, it was accompanied by Cameron’s political questions of his grandpa. Remarks about what you can do and say in this country . . . and I remembered what he said when he returned one time from overseas: “The best thing about leaving the US is coming back. This is the greatest country in the world.”

* lyrics to So Long Oolong, how long you gonna be gone.

My ipod, 3rd generation and four to five years old has kicked the bucket, given up the ghost, bought the farm, knocked on the pearly gates, passed over, eaten the carpet. Eaten the carpet? Where did that come from? It just slid from my fingers. It sounds ridiculous . . . maybe it is a blending of Sesame Street talk with Senior Moments. But never mind that.

Slowly over the past year, the ipod had become erratic in responding to its little round buttons above the scroll touch wheel. Then it froze on menu. A couple of squeezes and it jumped to going rapidly through a list of songs and then back to menu. Then it went to the Apple and then to the folder with exclamation point and then to alternating between the two.

I studied information on my macbook and did surgery. It was surprisingly easy and it did not make things worse. Nor did it make them better. A little while later when I attached it to the macbook, it simply said disk use and when unattached, appled and foldered at me.

So, I suppose that is that. And I will, I suppose, pull the plug.

That Georgia guy is coming today – all the way from Warner-Robins. It is a long, long trip but at least he doesn’t have a long, long trailer behind him. Now, most don’t know to what I am referring; it is just not a passing nod to RV’s. I’m talking about the movie with Lucille Ball and Desi Arnaz – that would be “The Long, Long Trailer” –  which when we found it on DVD or VHS left Quentin repeatedly rolling on the floor in fits of laughter. We sort of cringe, identifying more with the Lucy Duo.

Speaking of Lucy, I used to run out of the room when I was five and she got into terribly embarrassing situations. My husband is convinced a whole generation of girls was warped by Lucy. I believe I was severely affected. I fight it daily, but still have the urge to go steal John Wayne’s footprints.

But I wasn’t really speaking of Lucy when I started; I was talking about Grandpa coming. Summer is shaking in her boots, or would be, if the kid would do anything but go barefoot. I imagine he will be calling with progress reports during the day and we will be checking on Google maps. Our Sprint to Sprint minutes are great at times like this, but come to think of it, they are great all the time. Since he will be mostly on Interstates with the little mile markers, we will be able to pinpoint him about as well as if he had GPS.

When he was travelling and renting a lot of cars, he would get GPS when he wasn’t in San Diego. We rented one once in SD and his profile wasn’t updated and so we got GPS. I like to ride along and convince him to turn wrong and have the computer re-evalutate the situation. The voice is always so nice; it never says, “You dummy! Are you blind? The turn was obvious.”

Well, keeping my phone charged up and in my pocket, I venture into the rest of the house.

I once read the book Red Dragon which started the Hannibal series and the whole thing about it was this serial murderer was in the act of “becoming” the Red Dragon. He referred to his “becoming” and even ate a famous painting to get it actually inside him. What this has to do with me is that I have this sense that if I just do “something” I will “become” better; well, more than better. But it nags in the back of my mind that another who sensed this becoming sensation was a bad guy.

As I handle most things, I will handle this by saying “Oh, well.”

Now, my problem is I do not know what I am on the edge of becoming. Nor do I feel extremely certain that even if I feel I am really close, I should take that step off of the Me as I Am Right Now Cliff. I am sensing a possibility I am getting a little crazy here. Oh, dear – Is that what my becoming is?

Oh, well.

Hey, wait a minute, maybe  I’m feeling  this way because I cleaned yesterday and today . . . and threw things out. I was not ruthless, but almost. Do I want to throw away AmeliaJake? Or is it preparing for mortality. Great, the one time in my life I prepare for anything and it might be for leaving. That’s like improving  your house to sell it.

Ack, ack, the idea of turning 60 is more than my mind can handle . . . It is really going to be a wallop. And all this darn year, I’ve been saying, “I’m going to be 60 . . . I missed being 59. Or, I could call this past year #60 and just do #59 this year . . . like making up an assignment.

While my mind ball is bouncing from wall to wall, here’s another lament: It is upsetting to watch and old movie and remember thinking when you watched it decades ago the characters you think are “normal” now were to you old codgers then.

I am going to get a grip here. Just go off and ack a lot.