I took a quick shot of the totem poles and did not even notice the bald man. I noticed him when I looked at the pictures and I cropped it and stuck him right up in your face because I am a mean person.

Okay, so a college in Chicago had an open house and (skipping the usual AmeliaJake story with the details and asides) at the last minute, I find out I am taking someone to it. Downtown. Urban Campus. Be there by 9:45 am.

We get up at four, drive to South Bend, take the South Shore, hike from Van Buren St. Station and get there in time to stand in a wrap-around-the-block line. Then we climb – with me carrying a heavy case of “necessities for being in the city without a car in which to stash stuff we might need” – up four flights of stairs to the balcony of the auditorium in the old Roosevelt University building.

This is when I learn the true meaning of Urban Campus: they give a presentation and tell you to look at the folder you have been handed four floors below and say, “Almost all our buildings are in walking distance.” I, as primary shepherd, latched onto the bit about “shuttle buses” – and, when I heard the main building the prospective student wanted to visit was one of the lunch venues, announced that’s where we’re going and focused – a skill stressed to students in the Open House presentation – on steering everyone onto a shuttle.

The catered buffet lunch was very, very good. I found that out after the first “meet the professors” meeting on the fourth floor. My companions went on a tour to the 8th floor; I headed down to the first floor and then texted to them: “Eating downstairs.”

After that, they took their map and went to a couple more stops and I walked over to the Field Museum area. Do you know there are many streets to cross in downtown Chicago, including Michigan Avenue and Lake Shore Drive – and relatively long stretches of park grounds? And I am still carrying the bag.

After awhile my phone vibrates in my pocket and we have our own telephone GPS conversation about locating the lady in the bright deep pink sweater standing on the museum steps by the flag pole. Reunited, we walked by the lake and a lot of places and finally ended up back at the Van Buren Street Station in a waiting room from a long time ago with long wooden benches, covered with etched carvings . . . of graffiti. Picture to come.

The real highlight of the day then revealed itself. We were in a train car with a hyperactive preteen, who got up on his knees and with his upper body sticking way above the seat, talked all the way to South Bend. Normally, I can tune these things out with the thought, “not my kid,” but this was different. By the time we pulled into the South Bend Station, we all felt ourselves thinking thoughts of violence. It was not unlike the scene in Planes, Trains and Automobiles, in which Steve Martin rants about being able to take anything life throws at him because he has survived John Candy’s constant talking. As an inside joke to those in the know – that boy has reached “Wanda” status.

We got out of the newly-constructed and possibly confusing airport entrance/exit and found ourselves on the Toll Road just before the light failed. Then in the dark, we pulled into our driveway . . . and not long after that, I had on a nightshirt and was wondering if all the muscle aches would keep me from sleeping. They did not.

It was a beautiful day in the Windy City – absolutely beautiful. I might post a picture or too later.

LZP’s son Joe is stationed in Guam, the same place Der Bingle was many moons ago (about the time the last Japanese soldier walked out of the jungle) and it is a bit more developed. I don’t think Uncle Bingle went fishing, but don’t feel too sorry for him – back then it was midnight outdoor movies, beaches, beaches, beaches, no brown snakes and riding around in jeeps with the floor boards rusted out. One crew would sell it the vehicle to the next.

As you look at this picture of Joe and his fish and the Pacific harbor, think of his wife who spent the winter while he was gone in . . . North Dakota.

That was how my Internet news day began – with that headline and with a picture of the dog with the arrow sticking out of his head. I will have that image in my mind throughout my day. I am not posting the picture here because I JUST CAN’T BEAR IT. I am thinking that I may have to bang my head against the wall to stop me from thinking about it – but then, that could stop me thinking altogether, which some people might consider to be not a bad thing.

Yes, that is a wonderful way to start the day. It is also raining, but that pales in the memory pokes of that hair remark. Sometimes I feel sighing is not an adequate response; I am tending to lean toward face smacking.

But enough of that. I got around to exploring the Pinterest site on the Internet and, boy, are there a lot of good ideas – I found I had spent an hour looking at container gardening suggestions. My thoughts are that I need a bunch of people to take the hours to duplicate the nifty projects. And that’s only container gardening – never mind the links to abandoned buildings, history, scenic roads, unique outhouses (that one kind of snuck in there, didn’t it?), gadgets, barbeque tips and so forth. Ignorance may not be bliss, but I think it can be restful.

Apparently, I have not been around here for the past few days. I have been outside a lot, raking a lot, picking up the windblown trash a lot, fighting a lot of grapevines. That does not really explain such a long absence, so I am wondering if while outside I was abducted and probed.

I did watch the movie Interstellar which involved the relative nature of time. That, in itself, took two and a half hours. I did not realize the movie was that long when I started watching and spent the last 45 minutes asking myself, “Is this going to be the ending?”

I also viewed “The Imitation Game” and might actually buy it when the price drops. If you look on the Internet, you can find the actual crossword puzzle that was published in England in order to recruit code breakers. I had to explain to someone that English crossword puzzles contain a good many clues/answers that involve word play and are not as straight forward as the usual crossword puzzle in US papers.

Come to think of it, people around me lately might have a whole different idea of cross words.

I guess I was just staring off into space, ignoring the remarks made by a female member of my household, one who quite possibly inherited my sharp tongue, when she noticed my lack of response and commented on it. I simply admitted that I had gone off to my other place – my other life. Well, of course, one doesn’t just ask AmeliaJake where that is and expect a detailed answer and I just replied, “Oh, in my house on the coast of California.”

Ah, AmeliaJake should realize by now that certain folks are not going to settle for simple answers, but she keeps coming up against it. So, AJ, being AJ, elaborated. We have now piece by piece uncovered knowledge of the floor plan of the coastal house, and have also found out about my alternate home in the Puget Sound area. You know, the house with the huge fireplace that a man could almost walk into. Yes, that one.

Such information has come as a surprise to her, and I must say that I, myself, am often quite amazed at the almost-forgotten details that have surfaced. My gosh, I can even describe people I suspect may not have existed. But, of course, they had to have; I mean why else would I be able to just spout these little stories about them? I do wonder if I will be able to keep them straight now that I have recalled them – Oh, well, if I don’t, I’ll blame the vagaries of old age.

Wow, it’s a good thing this is not the time “Hoosiers” hit the box office. The state appears to be in the national news spotlight. One company is giving relocation packages to employees who want to move out and some state governors have prohibited state employees to travel to Indiana.

Guess we’ll just sit here and stockpile our peanut butter in case the companies impose a moratorium on shipments headed our way.

Just a few minutes ago, I wrote about being out-of-sorts. I pushed Publish and decided to get on with the day, checking my email and the Kindle Daily Deals. Well, my email included urging from Amazon to buy a new Kong Wubba and the Daily Deal featured a book titled, How Dogs Love Us.

And, there, on my windowsill, sits a photobook with Shane’s picture on the front. Oh, yeah, it’s just going to be a grand day. I did read an Alice Roosevelt Longworth quote that seems to fit my mood: When I think of Frank and Eleanor in the White House I could grind my teeth to powder and blow them out my nose.

It is warming up – I hope I haven’t jinxed us – and yesterday I drove back, repeated adjusting the temperature setting in the car and even, at times, cracking the window open. Unfortunately, it was not that way while I was in Fairborn and I spent the entire weekend looking out at the cold sunlight on the balcony. (And watching BBC films, as already been reported by an unauthorized source.)

I am not particularly in a mood to do anything today because I spent the night dreaming that I was storming around, ranting about clutter and toting heavy things down the stairs and out to a burn pile. And then, once the flames were going, I had to deal with some nincompoop who listed all possible concerns about burning things outside. No matter that we were way out back in a field in Lagrange County. I awoke feeling tired and irritated that all the work done had not been done at all.

Actually, I think I may be going through some sort of personal crisis. Yesterday, when I stopped for gas, randomly choosing an exit on I-75, I found myself right across a narrow lane from a large GoodWill store, and I did not go in. What is AmeliaJake coming to?