I’m not mowing this morning because it is too wet. Not complaining here, because a couple of summers ago, I opened the door every morning to really hot (by Indiana standards) temperatures. The kind where you open the door and then close it. It was real good sweating weather.

I may or may not attempt to transplant some ferns from LaGrange to this place. Yes, my life is that dull, which given my level of motivation is not all that bad.

Some people might remember my becoming upset with someone and making a bold statement. Well, it was this:

I said, “Lose weight? I’ll show you lose weight.” I went off and weighed myself and came back and blurted, “Twenty pounds off by my birthday.” And my face was all scrunched up in that really pissed off, determined look of death that I have been known to sport on occasion. This may turn out to be a real trial – either I eat very little or I eat crow.

Only know I have gone from doing really well to falling into the well of recidivism. Rats

The Great Dane who was not Hamlet was at our little VanceFest this past week. First of all, she is a she and, second, she is one year old and comes to between my elbow and shoulder when she is just standing on her four feet – forget about jumping up height. She doesn’t jump up, though; she is very gentle . . . and very curious. She rode down from North Dakota (one hour from the Canadian border) to North Liberty, Iowa and stayed awake the entire time, scoping out the passing landscape. Great Danes, I am told, sleep 16+ hours a day and I guess most of the days she does do that. The passed few were anomalies. Everyone kept seeing “signs” and saying, “She’s going to fall over asleep now.” They were wrong. Actually, she was somewhat like a huge Westie fo a couple of days: I’m here; I’m here; Pay attention to me. (Sounds a bit like AmeliaJake, come to think about it.)

She has such a kind face but Great Danes have sensitive stomachs and people food is not good for them at all. It was hard not to slip her a bit of specially grilled hamburger. That was quite a difference from out cast iron stomach Cocker Spaniel, Little Ann, who looked very, very cute . . . but if you knew her, you were aware her message was, “Your hamburger or your sanity.” She didn’t threaten your life – I mean, she knew she’d need you for lots of tomorrows.

But, back to the Great Dane. Her companions are Der Bingle’s nephew Joe and his wife. Joe is with drones at Grand Forks AFB – well, out of three years there, he’s spent most of three winters in the Mideastern desert and in Guam. His wife is with a bank in Grand Forks; she’s very smart and often promoted and during the winter, she gave him her official two-cents worth: “It’s MINUS 68 degrees chill factor.”

Oh, I was supposed to talk about the second state of the trip back, Illinois. I’m easily distracted, Maybe tomorrow. On the other hand, tomorrow may be tales of good time in Camp Nature Boy, LZP’s backyard gathering spot.

We started out in North Liberty, Iowa, which is in the eastern part of Iowa, just a wee bit north of Interstate 80, and not all that far from the World’s Largest Truck Stop and the Mississippi River. However, when you are driving it, it takes a lot longer than just saying it. You do, though, eventually cross the Mississippi, which is not all that exciting on an Interstate bridge, as opposed to the older steel gridwork bridges that had mesh roadways, through which you could see the river. And some of these bridges didn’t just sit there; they pivoted to let barge traffic through.

And, in front of us, loomed Illinois. That would be the second state and I’ve grown tired remembering it.

Of course, I indicated I was going to Iowa, and I even have pictures of being there, uy of course they are fake. I was abducted and probed and returned (do not read rejected) to my present identity. The, The Alens, found me to be such an intereting specimen that I was puy into the “Yo Be Observed” category.

I only let you in on this so you can guard what you tell me regarding UFOs, for your own good. This post may or may noty self-destruct at any time.

Typing this has been a bit of a challenge because I havr an oversized bandaid on my finger. This injury did not result from Alien probinh, but from careless use of a butter knife. Yes. I may be fascinating to Aliens, but it apparently has nothing to do with dexterity, or general competence with my body. That was obvious to anyone watching me with a Great Dane year old dog whose snout was above my elbow.

This undoubtedly reads like total drivel, but i am assured it is a temporary hangover effect of the Alien Experience.

So another post, right after the “look for me when you see me” one? I’m off to Fairborn and then to Iowa. I’m taking so much stuff; now why am I doing that? I guess it is because I can and because it’s a car trip and I don’t have to worry about overhead bins or under the seat luggage. Now I just have to get where I’m going without a ticket – the speeding kind, oh, and getting back without one. Of course, I don’t think I’ll be driving much when I’m with Der Bingle – he is an in your face backseat driver. The problem with me being a passenger is that I am almost never a passenger and, second, I get car sick if I focus on anything other than the passing countryside. It occurs to me that I should document this trip with photos out the window; hey, they are digital.

I probably should stay away from selfies – me with the blurred background behind me. Guido is going; yes, he is going to roam – just a little inside joke for someone.

I haven’t been posting very much – a little here and there. I think it is a phase. I think it is a bunch of stuff going on at the same time. I think it is fugue. I think maybe I’m making excuses. Well, see if I bounce back or if I go bouncing over the fence and down a hill and fall in a river and wind up . . . someplace.

That temperature was not when I got up to take Alison to work; that temperature was around 9 O’clock and I actually turned on the space heater for a bit. June 27, global warming, go figure. Being the weekend before the 4th of July, I wondered how many people were settling into their vacation homes on the lakes around here. How many people were camping?