Inside Michelle’s brain, episode 3

We were listening to a French pop song that features some pretty rockin’ accordion. Yeah, they love accordion. It’s kind of a thing.

Anyway.

I wondered if I should take lessons.
Ruled it out.

Then thought: “but I bet women who play the accordion have great boobs. All that squeezing must be great exercise.”

I am nothing if not conscious of breast health.

How biker chicks travel

Like a true nature’s child
We were born, born to be wild
We can climb so high
I never wanna die
–Steppenwolf/Born To Be Wild

Happy Trails to you
Until we meet again
–Roy Rogers/Happy Trails

Light. They travel light.

The ones 2 cabins down mentioned that they didn’t bring extra panties for an overnight. Sound carries on a lake.

Just thought I would clarify that for those of you who don’t ride.

Did I mentioned that there’s a biker gathering in Joseph this weekend?

On a slightly odd note, a hummingbird just flew by close enough to tickle my ear with the vibrations from his wings. Loud flyers, they are.

Heading back to the default world this morning, but I’m happy to be wherever I am.

Even.

Even when.

Even when there’s a line at the coffee shop.

It smells great in the coffee shop, by the way. They roast their own beans.

Coffee good.

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Dreaming is free

An’ then, an’ then I hit him in the eye
An’ I told him I wasn’t gonna be dead no more ’cause I din’t wanna be.
–Teeter totter dream kid/Trouthaven

There are a couple of boys on the teeter totter across from the cabin, maybe 5 and 7 years old. The younger one, who sounds a lot like a miniature Barry Kripke (Bawwy Kwipke), has been trying to get the older kid to listen to him tell about the dream he had last night. It’s been going on for nearly an hour. I have no idea what it was about, because I can only hear him when the wind blows this way and he’s at the top of the teeter totter.

During a lull in the dream story, he also discovered the properties of the fulcrum:

Hey! When I sit faw away fwom the handle I am heaview than you aw. An’ when I sit close to it you weigh mow.

I am drinking coffee and have started my nth novel of the trip. Bag of Bones. It isn’t scary yet.

Mostly I’m watching the ripples on the lake and smiling at the bits of dream talk from the teeter totter.

Now and then I have another sip of coffee while Mark does whatever it is you do to a fishing pole if you’re going to fish from a boat instead of from the dock.

My coffee has long since gone cold.

I don’t mind.

Oh! Apparently I’m going fishing too.

Gotta go.

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teeter

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