Category Archives: Observations

HNBR: Part 2 of Day 4

Our horse team were Benny and Charlotte. Jamie was our driver. She is a full time resident as of 2020.
This is the stable where the horses are cared for. During the warm months there are roughly 225 horses on the island. In the winter months, about 25 stay year round. The majority go back to the mainland and further north than the island. One horse we met named Barry is going to Europe at the end of the season.
This is a church made of stone. So sayeth the sign. Fun fact incoming:
The windows in this church are imported Tiffany glass worth a buttload of $$$. They are now covered in plexiglass because some idiot built a golf course abutting the church property.
Lilacs were everywhere and the scent was ethereal. When you passed each bush it was a step into an immersive nature experience.
Just outside the butterfly conservatory.
The cairn behind us was in a flower garden.
I was commanded by Libbie Landers to stop and smell the flowers. Photo proof I did just that.
Jen did the same thing.
Chicken 🐓
Chicken! 🐓
CHICKEN! 🐓
Wings of Mackinac
Lilacs and tulips 🌷

Next up is our venture into a fluttering haven of lovely.

HNBR: Part I of Day 4

Our ferry company of choice.
At the dock waiting to board the ferry.
Our ferry is about to arrive at our dock.
This is the very faint outline of the 9:30am ferry heading to the island.
It was cold enough for me to buy gloves first thing. This was our front view.
As we neared the island, The Grand Hotel came into view. The boat ride was choppy so not the easiest to capture it.
This is a snapshot of popular attractions.

This is the first stop we made with a bathroom conveniently nearby. Next post will show you more of the day. Jen said today wasn’t boring.

HNBR: Day 2-3

The start of our journey was optimistic and great vibes. The day was brilliant with sunshine. Pine trees for miles. Excellent journey.
I’m on the left, Suey is beaming in the center, Bebop is in the buffalo plaid, and Madam President Jen is glistening. Met for drinks and dessert with the second batch of my fellow Poll Dancers. Earlier we broke bread with Lynda and spent time shopping for our church meeting.
Just south of Cadillac, MI, Bestie doing her best Vanna White.
The black spot on my teeth is a blueberry from the pancakes my loving dad made for us this morning. The grin we share is because we’re almost to the Mighty Mac.
We are driving on the bridge between the Upper and Lower Peninsula of Michigan. The bridge sings a song of descending tones the slower you go. We should nickname this trip “Left Lane Closed.”
We made it! Woot! Yeehaw! $4 to drive that bridge. It’s a tourist trap. 
This is a pasty. It’s a meat pie with potatoes, rutabaga, carrots, and traditional spices. This was a 7 on my scale. This one was dry even with gravy. Jen was not a fan, so…
She got us matching bracelets! Then we had to find her a place to eat.
A woman recommended this place. Jen ordered a cheeseburger 🍔 and Jalapeño poppers. She rated the burger an 8/10. The meat had a really good good flavor which got overpowered by the condiments. The poppers were large and juicy but overpriced. 8/10. Overall a solid 8 on the scale of Jen.
Note they serve POP here, not coke or soda, just POP.

As we were leaving the drive in we needed to moose 🫎

Me moosing
Jen moosing
Together we amoosed ourselves.

As if that were enough! We also trained ourselves. Engine to caboose:

Long before Jen knew me I once spent a week at a school camp where breaking table rules made you have to kiss the moose. 🫎 I was not puckering up.
Bunny ears on the moose because I’m 12.
The whole train
Petting a weird dog
Weirdly petting a dog

The day was dang near perfect for me. 9/10. Jen had a 7/10 day because we rode in the car, got food, and went swimming. I’m either easily pleased or I need to up my expectations! Jen said she was bored today.

HNBR: 2/4/1 Deal, Travel and Tears

Hokey Jalapeno! The night of the 30th was shredded by my inability to sleep because I was so danged excited, my client kept calling me then hanging up for two hours, and the torture of last minute pack it or you’ll forget it type of things. If you’re an ADHD person like me, last minute is the best time for us because it forces focus. It is for me anyway.

DAY ONE

However, 7 AM rolled around on the 31st leaving me no choice but to load up the suitcase I packed last minute with the cleanest clothes I could find that were weather appropriate. I pulled into Madam President’s driveway exactly at 8AM. We loaded up, said see ya, and drove north.

As we sat at the stoplight to turn north on I-75, Jen the Bestie captured our start into the wild.

Jen and Mare in the car heading onto 75N.

The Welcome Center just over the Kentucky State Line. It appears there used to be a large golden horse on an empty base, but all that’s left is this little fella. We look like cartoon charicatures of ourselves in this one.

Obligatory awesome. That’s Jen.

This my version of keeping the baby quiet.I really appreciated the spirit of the day. The frivolity of youth in the hands of ridiculous wisdom of an aging Mare.

The skyline peeled off the steep grade like it was a curious city. It asked the question of me, “What could you give to contribute to the welfare of this city?”

Then it forced me to sit in a poorly designed parking lot that went from four lanes, down to three, down to two, down to one.

The first of the reductions, I dawdled a bit getting over safely into the next lane for the first one, but I quickly figured out that the earlier the better, but granted grace to a few people who just learned the same lesson. By the third one, My Abide was struggling. We were all on the same road, just trying not to be there. I granted grace to a swastikkkar and a white honda. The fourth and final reduction, I decided I just wanted to get where I’m going.

A short cab box truck decided to be a last minute Lucy. He started easing over into the lane I was using. I blew my horn continuing with my resolution. He had to slide behind me. I’m pretty sure an entire flock of that pretty middle bird were flying past my window like arrows that couldn’t find their mark.

Pure Michigan is their welcome sign.

I enjoyed the weather reports for the most common destinations found in Michigan proper. This picture was hard to capture. I’m just a bit shorter than Jen. I was on my tiptoes to her flat-footed. We were about to laugh so hard we were crying real tears of joy. We didn’t know.

My Mom, Linda, and my dad, Dave, are the testament to our arrival safely at their home. Andiamo’s Pizza is freaking top hat.

DAY TWO

This is my favorite shop when I visit my Rents. They even have doggo sundaes. Of course I got one for my boyfriend.

I like that this picture shows sweet and salty at the same time.

The Rents and my boyfriend awaiting their treats.

They all said Sis. Every last one of them. Today I’m William and Jen is Laura according to our coke options.

If you want to hear more about the story behind the title, let me know in the comments. I’ll tell you the story that gets the most requests in a 48 hour timeline. The possible topic titles are:

  1. Subpar Subway in Love, 2. Our plan for Climax (MI), 3. Adventures in Membership, 4. The Meeting of the Republicans

High North Bestie Roadtrip

The Mackinac Bridge as seen from the lower peninsula looking towards the upper peninsula. Lake Huron is in the forefront.
The Mighty Mac, aka The Mackinac Bridge

As dawn breaks tomorrow morning, I will be heading north with my bestie in tow. We’ll be staying with my “Rents”* for a couple of days, then heading up to St. Ignace, MI where we will catch a ferry over to Mackinac Island for the Lilac Festival. We’ve got a mighty trip planned, but, as with all things in my life, I’m just going to Abide.

I plan on taking you with me, so if there’s something that catches my fancy, be prepared to learn, experience, and share this incredible vacay (First in five years that wasn’t for work!)

*”Rents” is short for paRents

When it’s Gray

Music is an original piece called “October Moons” by Alicia Menninga. She wrote it for me.

You can get it here:

Dreamscapes Album: October Moons

Or the entire album can be found here:

Dreamscapes: Volume One

Giving up grief

I’ve given up on grief.

It’s too small of a word

To contain the absence I feel 

To cover the sorrow that blooms 

Unexpectedly 

When I make coffee in the morning 

Or taste a muffin

Like you used to make

I’ve given up grief

It’s too small of a space

To hold all that was you

The way you laughed

The scent of your body

Fresh out of the shower

Or sweaty with work

I’ve given up grief

It’s too shallow for a feeling 

That is deeper than I thought

Although I suspected,

Your love holds me buoyant 

In the ocean of our commitment 

Yes, I’ve given up grief

Because the world requires 

The gift of who you were

Through my eyes. 

I can’t hold that when it,

Like you,

Were born to shine even now

Hands of a Creator

“I don’t have the personality to be God.” I stated to nobody in particular. “I just can’t bring myself to allow others to worship their perception of me.”

I have found myself on the top of a pedestal. I’m not really certain when that happened, but when I’ve heard others talk about me, whether to my face or behind my back, I found myself precariously perched on top.

I consider myself a good human, not a good person. A good person isn’t allowed to make mistakes, trash relationships that no longer work, or draw boundaries around what is good for them. A human, on the other hand, is perfektly within their rights to do any, all, or none of those.

I’m embarrassed when people call me an angel. I know how often I roll my eyes or mutter under my breath while I’m doing something for another human who probably can’t do what I can as well. I feel negativity, but I allow it to pass unless it’s harming me or someone I love. I’m emotionally fly by the seat of my pants. I give because I enjoy the feeling I get when I do. But, in spite of that, it’s harder for me to feel joy when doing something for myself (at this time.)

I can’t tell you the last time I laid one of my beloved paintbrushes to a canvas to create. Yes, I’ve been writing which is cathartic in getting my thoughts out, but painting is coloring in the emotions that are overwhelming. It focuses them in a different way than words can. It allows me to express emotions without self-criticism or judgement which I tend to do in words.

When I write, everything has to be in order. Everything has to make sense to myself and for others. Every idea that pops into my head is best written down so I remember what is important to me, what my goals are, and how I’m going to do what makes me happy.

Art, in any of it’s forms, is a way for me to run around emotionally naked. It encourages me to let go of the control I think I need in the written word. With colors, forms, shapes, patterns, etc., I can bring the darkest, the most joyous, the mundane to a life that is visible. It allows me to fight my demons in public without holding onto them any longer. I miss that.

Yet, here I sit typing away as if this is the only way I can be “seen”, when at the beginning of this writing, I talked about the pedestal I’m perched upon. I want to jump off of that pedestal and spread my emotional wings again. The euphoria I feel when I do that is worth it. I’m making time as we speak to allow space for something so crucial to my well being.

I don’t have the personality to be God, but I have the hands of a creator that are longing to spring anew.

Complicated

I am a shepherd without any sheep
I am a reaper who does not reap
I am a mute, your secrets I keep
I am the lullaby to sing you to sleep
I am the shadow that does not creep
I am a leviathan up from the deep
I am the mountain with a rocky face steep
I am the vessel your burdens to heap
I am the tears that no longer weep
I am the life who causes no grief
I am the toddler who grants you no peace
I am the medicine that brings you relief
I am the bearer of your disbelief

Gail 1948-2025

How long will you linger on the pillow where last you lay your head?

What rose will remind me of the scent of your life that has evolved into dead?

What chime will ring out over the earth

That may likely forget your value; your worth?

Will the blushing dawn sing of the mourning you gave

Will the fiery sunset trumpet over your grave?

Will the willows tell your legend for eons to come

Whispering your legend in branches like drums?