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I was driving north, and we passed Flint and headed to what we call “up north” in Michigan. I had started early at the hotel, my usual Holiday Inn Express with the industrial complimentary breakfast, and quickly packed and loaded up the rental, an Air Chevy, a hot, red-metallic, smaller SUV with a conventional gas-powered engine. I picked up Deborah and Jeanne at Deborah’s house, and we were out within thirty minutes of the plan.

We had a 1PM plan to ride the glass-bottom boat tour at Alpina to see the shipwreck in the shallows of Thunder Bay. I have watched NOAA videos of these wrecks for years (and of deeper ones not visible from the surface), and once dreamed of finding them when I was young and living in Michigan. I had read about a few of the sinkings before the wrecks were properly explored. We had about 3 1/2 hours of driving, and we started out with enough time to maybe grab a sandwich.

We stopped when a tire on Air Chevy coded. Deborah was familiar with the area, and she soon had us fixed and back in the car (the tire did not leak, and it was likely the high temperature that caused an issue). Maybe we could have a snack in the car and then finish lunch after the trip (I wasn’t thinking it was a good idea for me to eat before getting on a boat where you look down all the time).

We saw a wall of clouds that we met about the same time we left Highway 75 to head east to the shore of Lake Huron. The clouds looked orange to me, and that was the warning. Bad air and smoke were coming. As we were trying to make our time, we only stopped for a moment at a rest area, but we talked about getting some masks. I could smell the smoke even before we hit the gray-filled areas.

While driving in the now smoke-filled gray that removed the loveliness from everything, headlights were now on for most vehicles. We pushed on and called the boat people. They needed 1/2 mile of visibility to take the boat out, we learned, and the smoke was not dissipating (unlike morning fog or clouds). The boat people called later (while we were in an area with no phone service), and the tour was canceled. There was no rebooking for us as we planned to be in the Upper Peninsula the next day. We thought we might catch it on the way back.

We, now with time, stopped at a Meijer’s to get masks (they had only a few N95 masks in two-packs), a game, a swimsuit for me, and a few other things. The smoke seemed thicker when we left, and the water tower of Alpena was now more of a ghost of white on gray.

We found the 14th Hole Grill for lunch and found the gray now also orange as the sun was washed out by smoke. I had a BLT (with lettuce in short supply in Michigan and other states), with Jeanne having a prime rib sandwich and Deborah a fish sandwich. All of it was OK, with the soups (instead of a salad or the ubiquitous French fries) being obvious from a large industrial can.

We found the NOAA museum, free, with an excellent display. There are drawers you pull out full of recovered artifacts, dozens of spoons, nails, even portholes. We actually spent quite a few hours there (out of the smoke), and Deborah found me a $35 NOAA jacket. Had it been combined with the boat tour, it would have been fantastic, but still not bad.

With that done, we headed into the gray twilight with hints of orange to our hotel. It was a Ramada that had seen better days. It looks like it was wrecked once, rebuilt, and then run on a shoestring. Not bad enough to abandon, but disappointing. The rooms were bright and updated. Everywhere showed repaired water damage, and there was no stink of rot.

Burgers mostly, no lettuce, this time. Mixed drinks were $5 and $6 imported beers (on tap), and the lowest dinner ticket in a while. The bartender, Audry, shared that she has no car, rides a bike in, and is now worried about the smoke. She rides a bike even in the winter, but this is the first time she is worried, she shared.

With the driving and the smoke and the stress, I was tired. We canceled all our hotels. I found a wine tour from The Bottle Run that we used last time, and booked us a hotel in St. Joseph far on Lake Michigan in southwestern Michigan. Later, this too would fill with smoke as the hazard flowed across the state from Canada.

I went to bed early and slept most of the night. The travel, time change, and stress had accumulated for me.

Thanks for reading.

I have only 35 minutes to write this….

I woke in my hotel with some sleep, but I was in bed at 2 AM, and the sunrise comes early. I am back at the same Holiday Inn Express in the Detroit area, not far from Deborah’s house. I rise, shower, dress (unpack some), and have the usual industrial breakfast and coffee from the usual machines and buffet.

I invest in a new blog entry and cover the mess I made of travel the day before. With that published, I board the new rental, Air Chevy, a smaller SUV, conventional gas-powered, but still with Apple CarPlay running and the usual safety things. Off to Lansing by way of Flint; it is faster. I travel around 75 mph most of the trip. In Michigan, distances seem to be shorter by car. I have no trouble, despite years of driving in the Greater Portland, Oregon area, I can go fast.

I meet Leta, already waiting for me, at Panera Bread at the old Lansing Mall. Barb C, making the same trek from the Flint area, soon joined us, and we chatted about travel plans, Susie, Bob Wild, and other memories. Emma, Barb C’s daughter, now resides in Beaverton, and we chatted about her and upcoming visits.

It is always sad to go our separate ways, but I will be back in October and will see Barb in a few weeks in Oregon. I called Mom Wild’s facility and told them I would be there in thirty minutes. I crossed Lansing without my usual stop at Curious Bookstore (maybe I can manage another trip to Lansing). Mom was still in bed when I got there, but she soon rallied, and we were soon in the car exploring tobacco shops. It was 98°F (36°C), and we needed to run the AC full out.

I discovered that the first shop had only Zero-nicotine versions (Deborah thinks these are folks who are trying to break the habit), but we did find them at a nearby truck stop. We agreed to meet Linda (and then Jesse and Meg) at BJ’s Brewhouse at Eastwood. Mom and I headed that way, got Mom outside and sitting under a tree on grass by the parking lot, and vaped for a while. I had to stand. Mom used the roll-a-tor (a sort of walker with wheels and a seat) to sit and vape.

We got a table indoors, got some cold drinks, and soon Linda, then Jesse with Meg (Jesse is Linda’s husband and Meg his daughter). We had a later lunch or early dinner. Murphy, our server, was not very attentive, but we made it work. I had a small pizza (about two slices) and iced tea (knowing I would likely eat again with Jeanne).

We said our goodbyes (Linda’s Birthday is on the 23rd, and we plan to meet for it), and I then headed, by Nav, to Laingsburg to pick up Jeanne to join Deborah and me on our tour of Michigan. With all the construction, Apple Maps took me down back roads and along Round Lake Road to Laingsburg.

Picked up Jeanne and remembered Laingsburg from 40 years ago while driving around.

In brief, we took Air Chevy back to the Detroit area, saw Deborah, ate fast food there, and made a plan for Wednesday. I got back to the hotel at 10 and soon fell asleep.

And that is all I have time for! Thanks for reading.

Isabella, in her Delta uniform, had, after hearing my tale, agreed to walk back through security and see if my Oregon Driver’s License was still on the plane I took from Portland. I saw her now, blank-faced, and walking towards me. I had waited for her for an estimated 30 minutes to perform the check. I had little hope that my ID would be found and turned in before the 757 would fly to its next destination.

Isabella works for Baggage Services and is in a quiet office filled with misplaced items and bags. There are no chairs, and I noticed that the folks who work there are quiet, with faces set to give no false hope. But I did see them look delighted, just a crack in their passive masks, when they helped someone, like a laptop being recovered.

Isabella, looking suspiciously happy, told me that the plane had left before she could search it, and that the agents were all busy with the next flight, and then reached into her pocket. “You are the luckiest person here today,” I was told as she handed me my Driver’s License. It had been found, but the agent was too busy to send it, and Isabella found it in a drawer with a Post-It on it with the flight and seat number. I had put in an online report the moment I discovered the near-disaster. I realized that having done the proper procedures, adding my name, flight, and seat number had made this all easier for Isabella. Hugs happened. Deborah came, as I thought I would be stranded, and she, too, hugged Isabella. It was an unexpected miracle!

It was wonderful, even with the stressed-out mess, to see Deborah, and we found a sandwich for me and a Coke Zero to share. Deborah and I walked together after a chat about options, and I returned to the Budget Rent-a-car shuttle. It was so good to see Deborah!

But, there was troubled waters ahead. The line was long and moved slowly. I spent three hours in that line. I read a book, drank my Coke Zero, and chatted wtih my fellow car-line prisoners. Budget is optimistic about how quickly it can turn around a returned rental, and I was told by their staff that there were not enough people to clean and reprocess the hoard of cars returned over the weekend. The Budget/Avis people handed out water and even frozen treats, but the group of customers was glum. Nobody expected this after surviving flights and various security checks. Deborah called, and we talked. She was upset that she had left me, and this had now happened. I reminded her that, while it would be 1ish before I got a car (at the rate I was going), I was still on West Coast time and could handle the drive. That made her feel better.

After three hours, around midnight, I got to an agent. She was younger and pregnant, but seemed to know how to handle the mess, unflappable. I stood for another thirty minutes, reading a book while in front of the counter. My Chevy was ready after midnight, and I was handed a piece of paper. I had filled in all the pre-check info in the line (hours ago, as there was little to do). I found the car in the dark, J25, adjusted the seat (and helped someone else with their car’s seat), made ApplyPlay work, adjusted my mirrors, and headed out. I got to the last check, handed them my ID and my piece of paper, and was off. I put the ID back in my wallet.

I was awake, and the drive was the same one I remember Deborah taking. I managed not to head to Ann Arbor, a first for me, and discovered the Chevy loved the high seventies on Michigan roads. I arrived at my hotel before 2, was let in, checked in, and found my room. I then arranged the minimum number of things to charge, put on my PJs from my suitcase, and slept after 2.

(While this is not a TSA display, it could be)

Before this, I made it through security at PDX without issue, then forgot to put my ID back in my wallet. I sat at Grasso, my favorite place for breakfast and to write the blog, and had their ricotta pancakes and coffee. I did not know that, besides some trail mix I bought in the concourse, it would be all I had to eat until after my ID was returned to me in Detroit.

The flight, on a 757, one of the least comfortable aircraft I travel in, with my bag not even fitting under the seat, and my window seat having me bend with the plane’s hull, I watched the Michael Jackson BioPic and then a series on the economics of various businesses made during the pandemic, but still interesting. Strange to see the masking and social distancing again. I missed the food cart to get a sandwich.

I arrived and thought, “home,” as I walked through the familiar sights of DTW (the same reaction I have to PDX). I was stuck on the plane for an extra 10 minutes because they couldn’t get the gate organized, then waited for my luggage, grabbed it, got on the shuttle to the car rental agency, and discovered I had no ID.

It was a stressed-out mess at that time. I had to find the shuttle back (after eyeing the huge line to get a car), then go to ticketing, and finally to Isabella at Baggage Services. Deborah had insisted I connect with Delta. I was totally stressed and felt like a fool.

Before all of this, Joan S picked me up at 7:30 and dropped me off at Beaverton Transit Center, and I took an hour on the MAX Red Line to reach the airport. I did scan, but I could not find a record of it. I will have to be more careful next time. I arrived with no issues, checked in without forgetting my iPhone, and then headed to security.

And that takes me full circle.

I will add that there was an unhappy Russian guy with me in line for three hours at the car rental. He had decided to drive to Knoxville instead of flying (it was only about an hour away by air), but had not planned on a three-plus-hour wait for a car. He had the folks at Budget laughing as he offered to take anything, “steaming radiators, leaking transmission fluid, engine check light? No problem.” I shook his hand as I left and wished him well, a shared adventure.

Thanks for reading!

Morning began with me locating the kitchen after rising sometime after 7 but not quite 8. Coffee was acquired by the usual brewing process using liberal, Fair Trade grounds, thus not making the world darker with every cup, but maybe a bit brighter. On Sunday morning, I was writing about Saturday, which wasn’t that interesting, and I was time-boxed. Church was at 11, but I had to purchase food items for the summer potluck. Saturday had me packing and cleaning for Monday’s trip to Michigan.

A banana was added to breakfast as I wrote, and Deborah and I texted and talked. We like to connect at the start and end of our days (with time zone adjustments). I was not rushed, but also there was not much of interest on Saturday (other than me being crushed, again, at Richard’s in yet another Euro-style game I had never played before). My colon, which has been going with a start-and-stop process of late, was shortened by 25 cm to remove cancer (no recurrence so far), and I decided to demonstrate how much I can hold internally. While unpleasant, it was freeing as I was concerned this could be on a flight or worse. I include this as surviving cancer and its impact on my life is just as important as drinking coffee to me. Thus relieved of worry (and a few pounds), I was able to continue my Sunday.

With the blog published, I returned to more mundane tasks (already uploading Quicken balances and reviewing them), showered, dressed, and found my way. A gray sweater vest, suspenders, a red, gray, and blue pattern tie (very 198o-90s) over a white dress shirt for church. Dress in black shoes and khaki pants. And I was ready to head to Safeway.

Air VW the Gray was ready for our transit to the grocery store. There I picked up a few items, including some fated apples, and I should know better from the bible. At self-check, I loaded everything in bags, paid for the bags (five cents each), and the bag exploded with the weight of the apples (in a box), broke open, and covered the floor. I managed with the bemused Safeway staff to collect my fateful apples and was told that I had sinned against process by not double-bagging. The staff repeatedly offered to show me how to do it. I demurred and took all my stuff unhoused.

I got some help from Z after I reached the church in the EV to unload. Pastor Lowell Greathouse and his wife, Susan, were already there. Lowell was pastor from 1992 to 1998 and was giving the sermon today (at the invitation of Pastor Ken). I offered him an apple with a dark smile; he refused (feigning horror).

I ushered, and there was some confusion as the AV was set up late and Dondrea was frustrated that someone had messed with the board again. But soon things were running, and service was warm and inviting today. The music was easy to enjoy and sing, and some of my stiff Methodist might even have swayed a bit.

A new person, Alex, showed up and was reading a pew bible most of the service. I gave him the pew bible after reading who had given it, they are long gone, and said, “They would not mind,” showing him the label inside, and went on, “and it is better for you to have it, remembering us with it, and reading it rather than us just dusting it.” I replaced it later with another one from a less-used pew (we have about a hundred in the pews).

Lowell’s sermon was about storytelling and how God is not just a creator but a storyteller. That Jesus told stories and that the Gospel of John says that the Word was there first. It is the first story and storyteller. Lowell is a master storyteller, and he connected everything before you realized that you were hanging on every word.

Lowell mentioned all the pastors after him in his sermon. Pastor Lowell, and it seemed like a flashback to thirty years ago, then did communion, and I tried to remember all the folks gone now that used to be there. The presence of our Saints, for me, seemed to fill the sanctuary and added to the warm feeling for this service.

This was followed by the usual chaos of a potluck in Wesley Hall with baked hot dogs as the main fare. But, as usual with a Methodist feed, there was too much food of all different kinds. Alex and some other folks I did not know joined us. Lowell walked the room, ate, and chatted until the chairs and tables started to be put away. Again, it seemed like the 1990s.

I headed out, took the EV home, got home, took off my tie, and nodded off. I was exhausted. But Dungeons & Dragons was at 5:30, and I reheated some coffee and rallied. I was at M@’s early and everyone was late. But soon, with Jack filling in for one traveling player, got back to our gaming.

Details cannot be covered here, but we tried some plots to disrupt a force of wickedness. Scott’s character accused my sorcerer of being devious, which mostly got me (and my character) a blank look. But we continued with our plots (with the other players aligning with my “devious” plots).

The night was full of ‘1’s rolled by the players, and what seemed like endless ’20’s from M@ as DM. This is not good. I, at least, managed a few good rolls as needed, and “devious” went off exceedingly well (a natural “20” for me on deception).

But despite our efforts, the adventure was a crawl, slimy, and combat-centric. We used reasonable tactics, but bad rolls and punishing hits did make it hard on us. We are more of a run-in-and-out group with a lot of devious plots. It was fun and used almost every spell slot I have. M@’s new toys were fabulous.

Scott and I talked later about retirement options, money, and health care. He is planning his escape from work now. I share what I did and do.

After that, I drove home, cleaned nothing, packed up everything, and went to bed. Ready to travel on Monday.

Thanks, M@! Thanks, Lowell! Thanks, Dondrea & Z, for the warm service and potluck! It was a good day!

Thanks for reading!

Last place, by far, is not unusual for me at Richard’s for a new-to-me heavy Euro game. Richard, Laura, and Kathleen (in that order) were no more than 9 points apart; I was far away from that.  The game we played, Odin’s Feast, is a highly rated 2016 game (here) that is a resource management game with worker placement, selling for about $90, with two add-ons for $50 and other small mini-expansions.  I found it a confusing mess of choices and strange iconography, so I decided to try out various options, not think too much about the points (which sent me to last place), and finish my board. Something I never get done in one of these games. But while I always find last place a bit of a letdown, this time I was sampling the game and could see why this one is popular; there’s a lot to do.

The game has you place workers (Vikings) on the board to do work, with more workers needed for more interesting options. Forging, animal husbandry, raiding, hunting, fishing, homebuilding, boatbuilding, and some special point-slinging options are available. All having different rules and iconography! Being Viking-themed, the most points were in building and using boats, and like other twenty-teens, made Euros, animals are worth lots of points, and engines are available. I am not sure I would buy it (especially now with all the add-ons), but I would play it again (and try harder to win).

It was a late night with us ending just before 11, and I was soon talking to Dondrea about the Brazil trip. Airflight options are still being discovered. I also got a call back that Senator Graham, a long-term player and ally of President Trump, had unexpectedly passed away. And while I will not be singing and dancing, “Thank you very much, Mr. Graham,” from the musical Scrooge (though I think he is a good fit), I did not care for him in the least.

My trip home was uneventful, and I spent the time on the phone talking about flights and things. I was soon in bed and reading. It was hard to wind down after the game, and I finally fell asleep closer to 1 than midnight.

Moving the story, briefly, as this is less interesting for Friday, I rose closer to 7 than 8 today. I reheated coffee, saw that the ants were back in the kitchen, and had the last banana. I headed to the office and found the focus to write a long-ish blog post.

I was there for a while, talked to Deborah, and we reconnected all through Friday until I wished her good night in the early evening (Oregon time). I did my usual tasks while sipping reheated Fair Trade coffee. The bitterness (and the news I read) reminded me how far we liberals have to go before the USA is known as a land of Justice with Compassion. It still, despite years of effort to correct the mistakes and sins of the past, appears that special interests, the privileged, and racism (historical and blatant) still have a thumb on the scales of justice and government. But it is another day to be liberal and remember…