Day one of vacation with my furbabies: ‘Oh God! Please Bring My Kitty Back!’

I am a drama queen. I want to not be one because it’s stressful as all get out. But you’d be a drama queen too if you lost your kitty the deep woods of the Northern Minnesota.

Kitty was very unhappy on the car ride, even though he had his bed and litter box and water right next to his carrying case, which was open and had a pillow in that as well.  Loverboy and I were serenaded with nonstop mewing for four hours. Until Kitty climbed out of his cage and under my seat.

Loverboy was a quiet little sweetheart in the front seat, as always.

Still, the ride was surprisingly smooth.

This is where the drama began: I hauled kitty inside, on his long leash. I have a kitty leash attached to a very long doggy leash so that I can always catch him if he makes a run for it. We get inside, I unhook his leash and check out the place. Loverboy follows me upstairs and Kitty is right on his heels. My phone rings. I dash back downstairs. It’s my kitty sitter who is watching over my home for me. (I forgot my hula hoop and he was fedexing it. Arrives tomorrow for $18! Very much worth the investment to me.)

I concluded the conversation with, “Hmmmm…I wonder where Babyboy is. He’s got to be around here somewhere.”

“Well, call me when you find him!” said John.

“I will. I’m sure he’s just hiding.”

Was he ever!!!  I looked in, around and under every nook and cranny, the place has a very Scandinavian design so there aren’t superfluous places for kitties to hide. Or so I thought. Nothing turned him up. I was convinced I must have just left the door ajar enough so that he could sneak outside. He was frightened from the trip, wiggled through the front door and bolted into the bush, which comes right up to the doorstep. (Did I mention this is isolated?)

I cried and screamed for Kitty. Tears ran down my face. I prayed very loudly. (One of the nice things about being isolated is you can be as vocal as your heart desires.)  I called John, who was as distressed as I was, he advised me to beat through the bush in circles around the place, and I was sure to find him.

“He’s probably hiding and watching you,” he assured me.

 I called my handyman, who doubles as my counselor, who advised me to calm down and kitty would indeed return. 

“The kitty isn’t going to show up with you screaming and crying.”

I called Jas, who explained, “Oh, cats do that. Leave some food out. He’ll show up. It’s only been three hours.”

I called my mother, who said a prayer with me.

I called Rockets Redglare, an awesome spiritual woman, and asked for her prayers, too.

Then the owner of the cabin called, “Oh, my cats have disappeared. They always show up in a day or two.”

Except my kitty is an indoor kitty. I imagined every kind of deadly scenario that could befall a confused and scared little creature lost in the Northwoods.

Loverboy and I walked down the hillside, a jungle of trees, vines and flowers, thick and verdant, across tiny narrow bridges to the Baptism River, shallow, amber-colored and fast-flowing. We walked the dirt road lined with daisies and Indian paintbrushes to the makeshift swing gate proclaiming “private property.” (You could just lift the chain and drive right in: The Iron Range’s version of a gated community.)

I cried some more, I called his name, I sang his songs. No kitty. Though I did spy the biggest bunny ever!   

I prayed loudly again.

I gave up and decided to grill some lamb chops that had been marinating in red wine, garlic, olive oil and rosemary for the past 24 hours. Maybe the smell of something delicious might lure the precious pet.

Nothing.

I finally went inside with Loverboy and we dined on the lambchops. I gave him a bite for every one of mine.

Wait. Was that a jingle?

I took Loverboy’s collar off to make sure it wasn’t his nametag.

We commenced to consume lambchop two.

More jingles.

I dashed upstairs, where I had searched underneath the bed, in cabinets, even though they hadn’t been open. And there, in a CRACK IN THE WALL, a little black snout pokes out!

“Oh my God! Oh my God! You’re here! I thought I lost you! Oh praise God! Praise God!” I cried. My prayers had been answered. Kitty looked at me as if to say, “Yeah. So what’s the big deal?” He punctuated that thought up with a hearty yawn.

Even Loverboy looked relieved.

First person I called was John, my kitty sitter. He loves Babyboy and Loverboy as much as I do. In fact, he said he was planning on bringing a four his friends up to look for Kitty tomorrow if he didn’t show up tonight! That warmed my heart. Lord knows, I brought up enough food to easily feed everyone! John was praising God, too, that Kitty was found.

I still can’t figure out how kitty squeezed into that tiny little crack, which has since been plugged with sheets and towels.

Oh, I love the contrast of knowing all is well. That my beautiful kitty and doggy are with me. Kitty still isn’t quite sure of the place, his tail is sitting low. A happy kitty has a high tail; he always walks around with a high tail at home. I just hated the idea of leaving him there in the heat. All alone. I love having my pets with me. They are the joy of my life. I adore their company.

They comfort me.

I realize now bringing the cat may not have been the best idea.

That aside, this place is magical. Just what I wanted – to be lost in the woods. The internet doesn’t work, just as well.  The cabin itself, while borderline rustic, is very tidy with clean lines, and soaring ceilings. You can hear the rushing water from its perch on the hillside.   I can now finally enjoy this place knowing my kitty is safe inside. (He’s thoroughly enjoying the views from the loft, its balcony and vaulted ceilings. A climbing kitty’s dream. )

So happy and relieved.

All is well. We are loved and we are safe.

It’s the not knowing that it’s all going to be okay that’s scary. Oh, how I weeped. I think it’s okay to be a drama queen when it’s about one of the beings that you love most in the whole world. I must remember, when I get freaked out about life,  that it will turn out okay. And as Florence Scovell Shinn says, “My ship will come in over calm seas.”

Finally, I am really looking forward to a good night’s sleep, away from the heat. I’ve only been sleeping four or five hours a night the past week, which certainly doesn’t help tendency toward drama. It feels good and clean up here.

Vacation, Day 2: Message from the National Guard: ‘Wishing you Peace and Clarity. God Bless.’

So, Kitty proceeded to roam the house all night. Climbing stairs, creeping across beams that cross the ceiling, exploring the loft and mewing, probably ticked he can’t climb back into his hiding place which is now stuffed with pillows, secure from curious cats.

Speaking of which, after reading the guestbook, this isn’t the first time it’s happened. Kitkats have crisscrossed this place over the past seven years. I am sure Kitty smelled the previous guest.

I did not get much sleep because I found myself listening for Kitty’s little bell. Still recovering from my scare I broke my no-drinking rule and had a glass of red wine. After the ordeal yesterday, I considered it necessary. Woke up with big bags under my eyes that I hadn’t seen since I quit drinking. My liver doesn’t like it when I drink – even a little.

Kitty is now curled up, fast asleep, at the end of the hide-a-bed for most of the day. I have it made up like my bed at home, comforters and all. There’s a far more comfier bed in the loft, but Loverboy cannot handle the stairs. I like being surrounded by windows down here anyway. At night, it’s mesmerizing to see the evergreens silhouetted against the sky.

I realized why I love my pets so much. Pets don’t judge, or if they do, they can’t tell you anyway. Their love is completely unconditional. I feel safe with them.

I am getting used to being so alone. Thank heavens; however, I had the sense to purchase Go-phone temporary cell service from AT&T as the landline phone doesn’t work at all. I’m also pleased that my hula hoop was fedexed by John the Doggywalker.  I was just past Blaine when I realized forgot it at home. I could have turned around but that would have added at least an hour to the trip. I fretted, called Target and Walmart to see if they might have an adult-sized hula-hoop. They didn’t, of course. Then inspiration struck. I called the Finland Co-op to see if they would accept a Fed-Ex package.

“Sure!”

I called John who promptly called Fed Ex.

“They said it’s going to be at least $45.”

“Do it anyway. I’ll give them my credit card number when you place the order.”

I was on the phone with John, who was pleased to report that the hula hoop shipment cost less than half that, when I realized kitty was missing and yesterday’s drama commenced.

Today is much quieter. Has been raining most of the day which gives me a chance to relax. I discovered WTIP, Grand Marais independent radio - just like KFAI back home. When I found it, they were playing Tinarawen. Score! No need for all the scratched CDs I hauled up. My hula hoop arrived so I dashed down to the Finland Co-op where I purchased a birdfeeder so I could place it within eyeshot from my bed. I also scattered bird seeds on the post. No critters so far. Not like at home where birds flock the moment you put out seed. The woods are just far too abundant, I suppose, for them to bother with cheap grocery-store seed.

I also purchased a thick sweatshirt emblazoned with “Finland, MN.” I packed for 80-degree weather, not 60.

It takes a little getting used to, having the woods literally on your doorstep. Loverboy and I took a walk down to the river and up the road again during a short break in the downpour. Both of us were soaked by the time it we got back regardless. The wetness clings to everything. As we neared the cabin, we heard movement, banging, near the cabin, Loverboy dashed to where the noise emerged, barking, hackles up.  I quickly shooed him inside and he reluctantly obeyed. I do not need Loverboy tangling with a raccoon, or worse. I have no idea what it was, but considering the location, it could be anything.

I read the entire guest book. Am looking forward to the Superior Hiking Trail tomorrow, but I don’t know if Loverboy will be up to such a long stroll – two miles to get to the best vistas! I might take him for a little stroll, then bring him home and tackle the big one by myself.  I am such a worrywart. What if Loverboy decides to play watchdog with a bear?!? I must release these thoughts! Thousands of dogs have strolled that trail and have come home just fine. In fact, after reading the guest book, I found out many dogs have had an amazing visit here. People have, too. One couple got engaged here, and three years later they came back with their newborn. A couple of people hated it. I could tell the people who hated it would be no one I would want to be around too long – so nitpicky! For $60 a night, this place is an amazing value.

The person who came up immediately before me wrote:

“I hope everyone after us finds peace and clarity during their stay. God bless.”

That was prophetic, because that’s precisely why I came. Whoever wrote that was a National Guardsman. He left a coin. I am praying and hoping he wasn’t being deployed to Afghanistan. Bob will be in my prayers every night. When I write in the guestbook, it’s going to be about the evils of war, and the peacefulness of this place.

Later:  Naps, Grilling and Spookiness

Doggy, kitty and I slept soundly for nearly three hours this afternoon during the rain. Needed that.

Woke up and grilled steak and potatoes and hotdogs. Loverboy ate the hotdogs and part of the steak. I saved an extra hotdog for him tomorrow.  Had ¼ of a glass of wine until I sprayed cutters and it ended up in the remaining sips.  Just as well. I am really enjoying listening to WTIP. Tonight it’s boomer jam. ‘70s, ‘80s, and ‘90s music.

Love grilling. Everything is so tasty! But I hate to waste the hot coals so I made four potatoes, ate one and saving the rest for tomorrow and the next day.

Trying to get used to no internet, no people, being so alone. I know, I’ve been dreaming about this for months, but sometimes it feels a little spooky and unnerving. And sometimes I feel like crying. Part of me wishes I had someone to share this with, but it would be horrible with the wrong people. My life has been filled with the wrong people – subtractors and dividers, per the awesome Dr. Verna Price – I am now making the space for the right ones – adders and multipliers. And I realized I am gathering them, as evidenced by the people who were there for me when kitty went missing yesterday.

Loverboy is a bit spooked, too. He just got done barking at nothing. Perhaps he smelled a wild animal. Or a waterspout. Water was draining today off the road and created a tiny waterspout in the puddle. He barked and barked at it! Hackles up and all.

I love the peacefulness here. This is why I’m alone, it is peaceful. Well, minus my drama yesterday. But kitty is now snoozing with me on the hideaway bed. Loverboy is at the end of it and all is well.

Vacation Day 3: On Hiking, Naked Hula Hooping and Anxious Pets

It’s a warm, sunny day. I awoke at about 8 a.m. with kitty curled up on one side and Loverboy on the other.  Just the way I like it. Kitty wasn’t nearly as active as his first night. Everyone is sleeping hard.

Still thanking God kitty didn’t run away and cuddled them both for an hour as the sun streamed through the windows. I love all the windows and light here. My condo is a little dungeon in comparison.

The day’s adventure was to hike the Superior Trail at marker 13. Fabulous vistas according to the cabins owner.  I discovered, however, that Loverboy is  just not cut out for hiking. He is more of a city dog. Stroll, sniff, mark, roll around in the grass. This marching through thick forests is not his game. We stopped frequently in shady spots and Loverboy crawled beneath the underbrush.  I congratulated myself for purchasing him a flea and tick collar, the thing looks like chemical warfare encapsulated, so I draped it around his neck instead of pulling it to a snug fit. I hope that was enough to protect him from the critters. I was seriously afraid he might get a reaction of some sort, the thing looks lethal and smells poisonous.

We turned around after a quarter of a mile when Loverboy refused to drink his water, a sure sign he was tired and overheated. This was one trip I would have to take myself.  We returned home where I proceeded to hula hoop to United Future Organization, a CD from an old boyfriend. Sixty minutes of funk/jazz/rap/world fusion. I have the perfect hula hooping perch, a sun deck balanced on a hillside, tiny streams running beneath it to the river bordered by firs towering a story high or better.  A hawk soared overhead.  One of the few birds I’ve seen the entire trip, much to my disappointment. As I said, it is definitely not like home where dozens of them flock the moment you put out seed. I’ve filled every birdfeeder here and it’s only attracted a chipmunk who proceeded to down all of the sunflower seeds.

I caught my reflection in the sliding glass door as I hooped. I looked like your typical middle-age Russian woman. Thick upper arms, lumpy torso, thin legs and the dress I was wearing was not flattering, and it was getting hot. So I whipped it off, and hula hooped naked, for a short time anyway, until the next tune began with the telltale waaa-waaa of a stripper’s song. What timing. Self-conscious, I threw my dress back on. But I liked how I looked naked in the sunlight, as opposed to naked under fluorescent lamps. When I caught a glimpse of myself in the sliding glass door, I looked strong and sensual, not dowdy like I did in that ugly, old sundress.

 I decided clothes are for skinny women. How much more accepting we would be of each other if we all ran around naked. And I’m sure the definition of what’s desirable would not be so narrow.

Loverboy and I strolled down the river and I stood in the middle of it. It’s shallow and fast-moving, but refreshingly cold. Loverboy took a couple sips but stayed on shore, he’s not a water dog. My next trip, after I lose my weight, will be in February, I will be 125 pounds by then, and to celebrate, I am going to plan a beachside vacation. I do miss being able to bounce around in the water, like you can on a lake. However, on a lake, you are also surrounded by the noise of powerboats and families, as opposed to the soothing sounds of water flowing.

I’ve been on a grilling frenzy. Charcoal isn’t cheap, neither is lighter fluid. So I cook in huge batches and now realize I brought too much food. Loverboy and kitty are on a hunger strike. I grilled chicken thighs today and Loverboy had just a couple of bites. The rest waits for him in his dish; his doggy biscuits, however, are getting cleaned up fast – we’re halfway through a box that lasts a week. Perhaps the biscuits are easier on an anxious stomach.

I think the kids are nervous about the change. Loverboy has only been to my parent’s cabin and a camping trip with an old boyfriend. There were other people, and dogs, not just me. This is so much different than his world. I realize change isn’t easy for me, either. I am confronting my aloneness and the fact that my only real family is my pets. I’m scared to be around people for extended periods of time. How do I entertain them? What do I say?

Once I lose my weight, someone will want to join me in my life and I won’t have to work so hard to keep them happy. I’ll be thin, and thin is rare and valued in this day and age, so I won’t have to try nearly as hard to be appreciated. There are folks who will disagree with me vehemently and try to assure me I am perfect just the way I am. Whatever. I don’t care. I speak truth. I am reading the book, “When Society Becomes an Addict,” by Anne Wilson Schaef. She has a whole chapter on dishonesty – all of society is dishonest. She advises to “See what you see and know what you know.”  I see what I see and know what I know. And what I know is society, right or wrong, loves skinny and abuses people who aren’t.

Anyway, I am really looking forward to not having to try so hard at everything in life.

Kitty is resting his paw on my feet as he grooms himself. Love that. Love him.


Later – Day 3: It’s Dark Out There!

I just let Loverboy outside to go final potties. He did not wander far to pee and poop, thank God. I was spooked. Kitty was in my arms with leash on. He had no desire to go to the ground and was enthralled by the bugs that the porch light attracted. Moths are the ultimate kitty toy.

I wish I was brave enough to go outside and look at the stars by myself. But I’m spooked up here alone! If someone was with me, I might be more courageous. What a wuss I am! I can’t miss this opportunity. But not tonight. Not yet. Four more nights to gather my courage. People camp by themselves out in the wilderness, why am I such a coward?

I am enjoying reading about the history of this region.  My mother’s family came here around the turn of the 20^th century.  My grandfather was a contract logger and wouldn’tchaknow – this stretch of highway is adopted by the contract loggers association!

Breaking news: There is a luna moth the size of my fist flitting outside the window. Kitty is mesmerized. It’s impossible to get a photo, I tried. It moves too fast and it’s too dark. All the camera picks up is the flash against the screen door. Well, I may not be getting birds, but I am getting spectacular moths.

Vacation - Day 4 – morning: What Would a Voyageur Do?

Is it ever hot when the sun streams in the windows in the morning. At night, it’s so cold I have to close all the windows and wear a sweatshirt and cover myself with a comforter and two bedspreads.

Kitty has disappeared upstairs again. Probably to snooze for the day.

I was reading a book last night about the history of the Northwoods. It made me appreciate the absolute luxury of my cabin, considering the voyageurs and missionaries slept on boughs next to a bonfire in the dead of winter. In the summertime, the missionaries said the mosquitoes were so thick you couldn’t help but inhale them, and the biting flies so abundant that a young child’s head and bonnet was caked with blood! It makes me wonder if Gaia was pulling out all the stops to keep them out.

I am intrigued by stamina and strength of the voyageurs.

The book outlined the recipe for their meals – eaten at 3 a.m. and then again at 10 p.m.:  1 quart lyed corn or peas, 1 gallon water, 2 spoons melted suet or bacon fat, boil for two hours until the consistency of pudding.

The voyageurs were around 5’6” and pure muscle. They had to be able to haul hundreds of pounds through the woods on their head (and did) and canoe 15 hours a day. And they achieved this on that awful recipe. They probably didn’t have an ounce of fat on them; I would have loved to have seen a photograph.  I am sure they were the most amazing human specimens ever. So strong yet slight.

I would not be able to survive a day if you threw me back 300 years.  Perhaps the luxuries we have today are the results of their thoughts and wishes for far more comfort. I am sure they could not even begin to fathom my little cabin.

The book discussed the war between the Lakota and Ojibway. They fought for 100 years. So much so that Northern Minnesota was considered no-man’s land! They were busy killing each other when they should have been fighting the white man instead of trading with them. Especially the English; the French treated Native Americans as equals, the British considered them less than. But the white man, even back in the 17^th and 18^th centuries, was filling them full of rum, which left the missionaries at a loss.

There were so few people then – only 20,000 in the entire state of Minnesota, if it had been a state, in the 18^th century. I cannot imagine. They are trying to bring the earth’s population down to those levels again so she can restore herself. Although, whoever is doing this is not doing it to save humanity. I am convinced their making this place inhabitable for a reptilian species to manifest itself physically as opposed to spiritually – Reptilians have been among us in spirit for decades, maybe centuries.

Back to our regular programming: One of the explorers and fur-trading magnates –Fort Frances is named after his wife – used to cruise through the water ways with the biggest canoe, a contingent of the fastest rowers, and – get this – a bagpiper! It’s the early 1800s version of the souped-up stud mobile with music blaring cruising down Lake St.  Oh, how I wish I could time travel and witness the bag-piping spectacle! I love bagpipes, but I don’t know if I would want to listen to them nonstop for days on end.
But if you wanted music, you had to hire someone and bring them with you! Imagine!

Cuddly Pets on a Hunger Strike

Such a beautiful day. It’s about 10 a.m., I awoke at 8 a.m. with kitty at my right shoulder and Loverboy at my left. I haven’t done my morning meditations yet. I felt compelling to write instead. And make breakfast – a grilled potato and a bite of grilled chicken. The rest went into Loverboy’s bowl. He’s ignoring it. He’s not a morning eater. Kitty downed a tiny bit and left the rest. I am so generous with food but I have pets who are so not interested in it.

I am definitely feeling my hula hooping session from yesterday, right in my obliques.

Goals for the day: Take Loverboy for a stroll up the road. The long hikes are out for him. It’s too stressful on his precious little body. Head into town to use the internet. Hike the Superior Hiking Trail, Section 13, by myself. Return home to make a steak and grill a bunch of onions and peppers. Loverboy will get most of the steak, the onions and peppers are for me. Here’s to weight watchers.  

Tomorrow I want to hit Tettagouche State Park and maybe go for a swim, the day after Loverboy and I are going to trek up to Grand Marais. Maybe. We’ll see.

Vacation Day 4 – Evening: Discombobulated Dogs, Sleepy Cats, and Blessings Galore

I took Loverboy for a walk up the road. He’s discombobulated, there’s no doubt about it. We walked about a quarter of a mile, nothing but trees and a cabin the process of being built, but it looks like no one’s visited it since May. Though there is a cement mixer and a pickup truck.

On the way back, Loverboy made his way via the small streams that run by the side of the road. Halfway up the long “driveway” (if you want to call a dirt road overgrown with weeds) he plopped down in some bushes. I sat down next to him and we listened to the birds. After a few minutes he was ready to make his way again.

Both of us were very hot. I wanted to go for a dip at the mouth of the Baptism River at Tettagouche State Park, but feared Loverboy wouldn’t be up to the hike to get there. So I drove the 10 miles there, only to see doggies everywhere, including the cutest little Pomeranian.

“He loves hiking,” bragged his owner. “He broke the trail for us!”

I was overcome with guilt at leaving Loverboy behind and I missed him. So I hopped in my car, drove all the way home, and brought him along. The “hike” was really a 150-yard stroll to a pebble beach. Loverboy wasn’t thrilled. He’s not excited about water. But he did go in occasionally to cool down or have a sip.

He hasn’t seemed himself the entire trip and I’m worried. Though he’s eating fairly well. Hotdogs, steak and hamburger. Yes, I am on another grilling frenzy today – I’ve used  the last of the charcoal so I’m cooking as much as I can. That said, Loverboy seems so unhappy. Maybe he’s just overtired and not used to the change of scenery. Plus, at heart, he’s a guard dog. He can’t let me out of his sight and maybe he feels like he is on duty all of the time.

In the meantime, Kitty is snoozing under the covers of our little bed. Has been since noon today. It comforts me to come home and see that little bump under the quilt and know he’s there, safe and sound. I don’t think I’m ever going to recover from the scare at the beginning of our trip. I am wounded for life. Loverboy just joined him and is snoring – that’s a sure sign that he is worn out.

I love the Tettagouche State Park and the pebble beach. I can just sit and soak and look at the rock cliffs  and trees and sky. And my Verizon wireless worked – so I was able to upload a couple of photos to Facebook and check my email. I think that’s where I’m going to hang for the rest of my trip, considering I purchased a $25 pass to the State Parks for a year. I will leave Loverboy at home tomorrow, I think he needs some solid rest time.

At the State Park, of course, I get there and a family with three young children arrives. Even though there is plenty of space along the shoreline, they park right next to me and overtake my space. I scoot over. Then another family comes with two little boys arrives. And then a third family comes with a newborn and toddler.  I am overtaken by families!

I feel like an anomaly, which I am. A single woman in 40s traveling by herself and her dog is not something you see every day. However, I can’t wait around, hoping to find someone to join me on my adventures; I want to live now! And I don’t want to pay anyone’s way to join me or deal with people with whom I’m incompatible. I am fortunate to have the means to do this trip. Albeit, it’s cheap (relatively) at $60 a day for the cabin. Add in gas, state park passes, fed exes of hula hoops, trips to the town’s co-op for kitty litter and doggy treats, and  it probably comes to about $100 a day.

When I was weeping (literally) about losing my kitty, my handyman/counselor said I had to quit feeling sorry for myself. That I’m lucky, smart and talented. I have the means to live well.

I look at it this way: I’ve given so many others so much energy throughout my life. This trip is a little bit of payback.

Later: Message from the Universe – Stop Working!

I couldn’t help but check my work email at Tettagouche. There was an urgent message – one of the clients wanted to know where I found sources for an article I wrote over a month ago. It was sent  Friday at 3 p.m. No big deal, I thought, I can go to the local tavern, connect to my work computer via their wifi and be done with it. It would take me three minutes to look up the information.

Of course, my computer didn’t connect.

“Oh, I see you have a Toshiba, they don’t work well with this system,” said Bartender One.

No problem, I brought my ancient Dell. Except I had to drive back to the cabin five minutes to get it. I return with Dell in hand.

Turns out that doesn’t work either.

“Oh, our system sucks,” confessed the Bartender Two. “We keep telling the owner that no one’s computers can connect to the wifi, but she doesn’t care because hers does. The community center has wifi, though, and the password is their phone number.”

Except it took him 10 minutes to find the phone number; though I was very grateful forhis effort.

“Let me call my sister-in-law. Her husband’s on the community center’s board of directors.”

Husband was out fishing.

“My facebook friend will have it…just a second.”

Then, Bartender One’s wife walks in. She pulls out her phone, googles the number, and gives it to me. I knew she would find long before any of the men would. She also had a British accent. Everything in me wanted to know how she and her husband met and what on earth she is doing here.  But I resisted; I don’t like prying.

That said, even with the the passcode, I couldn’t connect at the community center, either.

Shit outta luck. Will call Tony tomorrow and tell them they’ll have to wait ‘til Thursday, or give him my computer code so he can hunt up the old emails with all of the details himself.

Obviously, it’s important I’m disconnected with everything back home.

The mouth of the Baptism River

While I was at the bar, a couple of locals walked in and were chatting with the bartender. “Got any cocaine?” asked one of ‘em.

“SSSSSHHH,” hushed the bartender.

Well, at least it isn’t meth, I suppose. But I am sure glad I can have a good time without being hopped up. What do these guys do? Sit in the middle of the woods snorting coke or smoking crack?  I can’t imagine.

Tonight, I am going to brave enough to sit outside and look at the stars.

Vacation Day 5: ‘Don’t let the bears get too comfortable’

I wasn’t brave enough to sit under the stars by myself last night. Or tonight. I let Loverboy out for final potties. His hackles stood at alert and all he wanted to do was run into the woods and bark. He did not venture beyond the reach of the porch light, Thank God, or I might have keeled over.  I yelled at him harshly after he did his job to get back inside. I later tearfully apologized to him, explaining that when I yell, it only means I’m afraid something bad will happen.  On some level, I think he gets it. He’s very unused to having me raise his voice at him. But I’m not in the mood to have him take on any bears.

And there are plenty of ‘em up here, according to the ladies at the Finland Co-op. Bought some sunflower seeds there today. Upgrading the food with the hopes of attracting even a single bird. All I’ve seen are crows flying overhead. I miss my flocks of birdies. All I’ve attracted are chipmunks and red squirrels. I’m enjoying them, too. That said, the ladies at the co-op advised me to keep the sunflower seeds inside or bears would be coming to the party.

“They can make themselves right at home and make a real mess,” said Lady One.

“They do?” I asked.

“Yeah, they’ll dig through your garbage and your birdseed and leave a disaster behind.”

“One of ‘em likes to lounge on my deck while I’m mowing the lawn,” said Lady Two.

“Aren’t you afraid?”

“Naw, I just yell at ‘em and they run away. You don’t want ‘em making themselves too comfortable at your place, and they will if you let ‘em,” she warned.

“Yeah, and remember, they’re messy,” said Lady One.

Sounds like they’re talking about a bad houseguest, not a thousand-pound beast!

I left Loverboy behind today to go to Tettagouche State Park and do some serious hiking. Loverboy did not enjoy the hiking part of the trip at all. And, this time, when I was half-way through my climb to Shovel Point, a couple with two very athletic, pointy-nosed dogs came by and the dogs looked absolutely exhausted.  I stopped feeling guilty for leaving Loverboy behind.

I realized I’m not much of a hiker myself. I was winded after climbing a long set of stairs – stairs, not walking paths that real hikers use, mind you. The hike out to the Shovel Point was three-quarters of a mile. Loverboy would have enjoyed it if it wasn’t so steep. There were many beautiful outlooks over Lake Superior and I took advantage of every one. On the way back, I found a path that led to a rocky, isolated beach. Sitting there and watching the waves has been the most peaceful part of the trip. I did a little rock hunting, too. A throwback from when I was a kid. I loved rock-hunting back then and found beautiful pieces of amethyst in Lake Superior at my aunt’s cabin in Thunder Bay. She and the cabin are both long gone, but I still have the amethyst.

After a dip in the Baptism River, I was on my way back home a couple of hours later. I stopped by the Finland Co-op again – needed balsamic vinegar, alas, nothing like that there. There, in the parking lot, I ran into the cutest scene. A little white dog perched high atop gear in the back seat, next to his black lab buddy on the seat, and two women in the front seat. I commented how cute their dogs were. They had a canoe tied to the top of their car and were probably on their way to the boundary waters to camp. Loverboy and Kitty - and me, for that matter- could have it so much rougher!  I really don’t understand the appeal of camping. Mosquitoes, dirt, being out in the elements, whatever those elements bring, I wonder what the missionaries and voyageurs would think of it! They would definitely prefer my choice, to them, I would be living better right now than their governor.

I arrived home to an ecstatic Loverboy. I took him for a walk up the road, but this wilderness thing isn’t his cup of tea, really. Kitty chose not to sleep today and instead, mewed incessantly to go out. I obliged as long as I could, allowing him to nibble the grass or snoop near the sauna. But the minute he seemed overly eager to dart into the woods after some creature, he was hauled back in. Or when the bugs got too bad. One thing I forgot about is the mosquitoes – they are everywhere. Loverboy hates them, understandably. Which may explain why walks have lost their glow. They’re either taken in the noon-day sun when the heat scares off the bug or they’re taking at dusk when the bugs start emerging en force.

Loverboy and Kitty are both sleeping soundly at the bottom of my bed now.

I figure Loverboy misses Uptown and all of the attention he gets by merely strolling out the front door.  So tomorrow, I’m taking him to Grand Marais. It’s pledge week at WTIP, the Arrowhead’s community radio station based in Grand Marais, so I called in and made a $10 pledge in Loverboy’s name and to gauge the dog-friendliness of the town.

“We love dogs!” gushed the deejay. “Go to Sydneys, they have outdoor seating, special doggy treats, and a dog-watering area.”

Perfect. Loverboy will get his city fix tomorrow.  I may even bother with a little makeup. Have not worn makeup or combed my hair in days; instead. I wash it throw it up in a pony tail to sleep in and then yank it back with bobby pins into a messy French roll during the day. Making my way to dreadlocks.

Tonight I listened to Mountain Stage, an NPR Program, that was prerecorded in Grand Marais. Love the singer Cheryl Wheeler.  Grand Marais sounds like a very cool place.

I couldn’t be enjoying my trip more, really. I was hoping to do more prayer and meditation. I do my morning rituals, of course, but really, I think it’s more important that I have fun.  None of us ever have enough fun in our lives, and what is fun but pure joy?

It’s been so much fun:

·         Finding a precious lost kitty!

·         Having the company of my beloved Loverboy.

·         Looking up at a clear blue sky without a single chemtrail!!!!

·         Being away from the energy of the city and inhaling the pure air of the Northwoods.

·         Not having internet. It’s been good to be out of touch.

·         Grilling! I love how it delicious it makes everything!

·         Lake Superior and rocky, isolated beaches.

·         Not wearing makeup or doing hair.

·         Hula hooping.

·         Chipmunks and red squirrels.

·         Spacious, pretty cabins with indoor plumbing!

·         Long, healthy hikes with marvelous vistas.

·         Reading history books. I need to do that more often.

Two more days of this!

 

Vacation Day 6: I Don’t Wanna Go Home!

Morning

I am going to call the cabin's owner today and see if I can extend my vacation a day. I don’t want to go home. And it was such a bear to haul everything up; I may as well enjoy it one more day. I love this place. I love the silence. No sirens. No cars. No exhaust. No chemtrails. No other people’s energy. I could really get used to this. I don’t miss the internet. All I have is the radio and my books. That is enough. I am beyond content and at peace.

Even the pets are feeling more at home.

I love waking up to the sun streaming in the windows.

I love the sound of the river.

I love watching the chipmunks down the sunflower seeds, and I love how my kitty watches ‘em too.

I love how relaxed Loverboy is as he lounges on our bed and stares out the sliding glass doors.

I want to live in a place like this.

Later: Loverboy gets his ‘city’ fix

Loverboy and I returned about 45 minutes ago from an excursion to Grand Marais. A typical tourist town, but it was what Loverboy needed. He couldn’t walk half a block without getting cooed over and petted. People were coming out of souvenir shops to ask about him. My dog is an extrovert – he gets his energy from others. He found a lovely bit of shaded lawn to lie on in the middle of town. He rested there for a quite awhile, it was his first bit of lawn in five days. He was allowed into a junk-crafts shop where he got treats from the owners, and we visited WTIP where he got even more treats and pets.

I made him walk on the Army Corps of Engineers structure that extends along the shoreline and follows rocky outcroppings. This he was not so thrilled about. I think he has pretty much had enough of nature.

We also stopped along a beach on the way up, where we met a family and their darling Olde English Bulldogge.  Loverboy was not so thrilled about her.

I overhead someone share the price of a studio apartment on the lake: $149 a night! Yikes! I would love to stay on the Lake, but $149 a night is wildly expensive.

I am tired and probably need a good nap. Tomorrow, I do nothing in preparation for my return home.

Dreaming is free

Something has been eating at me the entire vacation and I can’t quite put my finger on it. I guess it’s the loneliness. Though, I wanted to be alone. It’s just that I don’t really have a family and when I see families together, it makes the aloneness that much more poignant.

I’ve never had a family. Not a real one. Not one I felt at home with. I always felt like the odd one out. Like some alien dropped me there by accident. And it was such a mess, and I cannot think of any happy childhood memories. Wait. There is one: I would wait up for my brother and sister to come home from their jobs at the local restaurant. They were teenagers then, I was 6 or 7. I would stay up ‘til 3:30 a.m. and then we would sing each other the Lawrence Welk song, “Goodnight, sleep tight and pleasant dreams to you…here’s a wish and prayer that all your dreams come true…and now ‘til we meet again, adios, au revoir, aufweidersehn. Good night!”

I got to do whatever I wanted because no one was paying attention. But I disciplined myself because I knew if I didn’t, I would always be stuck in that awful little town.

It hurts sometimes to see families having a good time together, I feel like I’ve missed out on so much and I’ve had to try so hard to even carry on and find joy.

Once my Mom dies, there will be no one at all. I sometimes wonder if I have a different father because I don’t look at all like my brother and sister.  And I never, ever connected with anyone in my extended family, although I guess I was a favorite of my mom’s father – but he was dead by the time I reached 4.  My Mom loved going back to her mother’s place in Canada, she had a sense of roots, no matter how screwy they were, she was close to her brother, crazy, raging alcoholic that he was. Her sister, too, raging alcoholic that she was.  I have no roots and I have no sense of belonging except with my cat and dog.

My upbringing, or lack of it, has made it impossible for me to build relationships, especially with men, and if I try, they’re usually narcissists/addicts or a nasty combination of both. Women are all about male companionship and it gets weary to be someone to amuse them until the get their boyfriend, or being used to achieve those ends. So I choose the company of my pets. But it has left me feeling adrift in this world.

The lone daisy growing out of rocks is a metaphor for my life.

I wish I had a sense of family and love. I wish I didn’t have to walk this path alone. I wish I had someone to share this with who really cared about me. I wish I was lovable.

I see what I see, I know what I know, per Ann Wilson Schaef’s excellent book, When Society Becomes an Addict. Our society has evolved into one big addiction, whether it’s addiction to money, sex, relationships, work, or drugs. And when you live in an addictive household, everyone knows that everything is a lie, so you have to find the truth within the lie. And people who grow up in addiction, and it’s the rare person who doesn’t, find it very challenging to even know the truth of themselves. For instance, typically, when something upsets me, it takes me 48 hours to process it until I understand what it is in particular I found upsetting and the nature of that upset. All I know is I feel bad. This is typical for children of addiction.

That said, if I was lovable, it would be easier for me to connect with people and I would have my own family and deeper friendships. As it is, I see what I see.

Yet, somehow, I manage. Yet somehow, I do attain for myself opportunities to experience and enjoy life.

I had a good cry which I needed, my ear was aching and it’s not anymore. Crying releases toxins. All I can do is the best I can with the rest of my life. That means first and foremost, losing weight. Because I see what I see and I know what I know. Once I lose weight, the other pieces of what I desire will fall into place more easily.

This is how I want my life to look this time next year:

·         I am 55 pounds lighter.

·         I have a wonderful, loving, smart, capable, financially stable life partner who really, really adores me, Loverboy and Kitty.

·         I have $1,500 more a month disposable income.

·         I have close friends who love me. I have a real sense of family.

·         I get to stay for two weeks, or more, in a beautiful chateau on Lake Superior that accepts both Kitties and Doggies.

Dreaming is free said Blondie.

Later still: To stay or not to stay

Kitty is looking out the window, enthralled with the chipmunks who, in the last three hours, have managed to make away with two pounds of sunflower seeds. Loverboy is snoozing at the edge of the bed. I am grateful for this place. Still deciding whether I want to stay an extra day.  I don’t know if I want to pay the extra $60.

Even later: A visitor

Loverboy just went into a barking frenzy, then I spied a little masked face peaking its head over my deck: a raccoon. I brought in the birdseed.  I don’t mind chipmunks, but raccoons are an entirely different story and I don’t want them tangling with Loverboy or Kitty. I think the raccoon still had good eating considering I left about a half a bag on the deck.

Vacation Day 7: The last hurrah with the pets

The last full day.  I decided I should head home tomorrow. Give myself the time I need to acclimate and spend more time with kitty and Loverboy in our own bed.

I was wide awake at 7 a.m. even though I fell asleep after midnight. I sleep so much better up here. It’s so dark and silent. I would love to have a month – or more – in a place like this. Okay, a place like this on a lake!!!!

I am clarifying what I want in life. I want a wonderful partner. I want to live in the country on a lake, and I want to have more than enough money to accomplish that! I want to sleep well at night. I want to feel my own energy, not everyone else’s!

I have learned that I must spend less time on the internet. I’ve written 1/10 of a book since I’ve been here, without even trying. Though this certainly isn’t a book, it has the seeds of one.

I laid in bed for an hour today, sun streaming in, Loverboy and Kitty cuddled next to me. It was so beautiful. I made the bed, did the dishes leftover from last night, washed, brushed and flossed, made my instant coffee with a little evaporated milk and Stevia, then proceeded outside for my morning prayer. Except kitty was mewing piteously in the doorway. I gave in, harnessed him up with his kitty leash and let him out. Loverboy, too. They both proceeded to chase the chipmunks off the deck. The chipmunks, however, were fearless and kept coming anyway, trotting free as you please right past Kitty.  Loverboy felt the need to be the dog guard, however. So they approached in angles that were out of Loverboy’s eyeshot. It was like living in a Disney cartoon.

I held kitty on leash the entire time, but he did snoop around the cabin for the first time. He was outside for a solid hour sniffing the plants, nibbling the plants, swiping at the chipmunks and moths. I am kicking myself for leaving the camera inside.

After about 45 minutes, I brought them back in and began my morning prayers and meditation. The most important thought that came to me is this:

Imagination to reality?
I have a powerful imagination. It’s one of the advantages of being ignored and alone as a young child. I have to use that to imagine that I am loved, not unlike imaginary friends. I have to conjure up the feeling of being very much adored and safe. And, I have to imagine I love myself just the way I am. It can’t come from a place of authenticity (yet) because I don’t love myself the way I am. I am too fat.  And, yes, I think I’m too old, but I never, in a million years, want to relive any part of my younger days. I am SO glad they are over and am glad to be this age.

But, I can imagine I love myself. I can imagine I am looking at myself as an adoring, attentive mother, I can pretend I adore myself the way I adore Loverboy and Kitty. I would never say the mean things I say to myself to them. I would never torture them with fear and worry with which I torture myself.

It’s 11:32 a.m., Wednesday, July 11, 2012. I feel content and at peace. I feel loved and I feel safe. It is so good here. I forgive myself for not spending more time in prayer and meditation, I needed to go out and explore and have fun!  I needed to let go of trying so hard.

Confessions: I am sooo glad I don’t own this place! Otherwise, I would be doing yard work the entire time and not resting!  

Back to Nature

Took Loverboy and Kitty for more tours of the yard, and I brought the camera this time.

Loverboy and I trotted around the grounds and down to the lake; I bathed myself and him in Cutters, but even then, the buggies were merciless. What’s nice about the shores of Lake Superior is the lake breeze seems to keep the mosquito population down.

We ventured back and I decided to hoop again, and the chipmunks were brave enough to come up on deck and help themselves to sunflower seeds regardless. They’ve downed 5 pounds in two days.

 It’s very much worth the price of admission. There’s a pair and they take turns chasing each other away from the stash. Like I said:  A living, breathing Disney cartoon.

It’s magical to hoop overlooking the wilderness.  A tawny-colored moth landed on me at one point, and then, when I was done hooping, decided it wanted to hang out on the hoop for a while.  There were dragon flies and bumble bees and swooping hummingbirds.

Ruminating on Pea Soups

Afterward, I worked on The Voyageur, a book written in the ‘30s by Grace Lee Nute. I was intrigued by what I read about the voyageurs in a guide to Lake Superior, and wouldn’tchaknow, when I stopped at the local hardware store in Grand Marais to purchase a landline phone for this place (the other was out of commission and Monika asked me to pick another up if I was out and about), I found The Voyageur on the shelf. In a hardware store!

I had an interesting aha moment as I read it. My Mom is from Northern Ontario, so this has been an especially poignant visit because this region is the same climate – even though Mom’s home was about 10 hours north. The air smells similar, the plants are similar. It’s left me melancholy as I recall 20 years of visits to my grandmother’s house, a place that didn’t have indoor plumbing – except for the sink – until I was five years old. I remember bathing in a tin tub with hot water boiled over the wood stove. I wish I could have appreciated the towns remarkable isolation and that my grandmother’s home was a throwback to the 1920s. It was made out of logs, by the way. The walls were a foot thick. I also wish I was given the opportunity to spend more time in nature instead of in “town,” which consisted of a handful of rundown houses, a church, and a general store – The Hudson Bay Company, of course. It’s been in the region since the 18^th century, when England established it to attain an edge on the fur trade.

That said, when Mom was in grade school, the kids would taunt each other, like grade school kids are wont to do. The insult that got hurled at Mom was “Bohunk” for being Eastern European. Mom shot back with “pea soup,” a derogatory term for French Canadians.  Now I understand the origins of “pea soup,” considering the recipe of the food for the voyageurs – lyed peas (or corn) and bacon fat.

Forget pirate movies, by the way, someone needs to a movie about the voyageurs! They were tough, powerful, brave, romantic, artistic and styling. Before arriving into port, they would doll up in their finery – including scarlet sashes and ostrich plumes. They sang as they rowed and they paid the best singers more money. They betted their lives, and sometimes lost, as they canoed the waters of Lake Superior to the Lake of the Woods in Northern Ontario to the river valleys of Wisconsin and Minnesota. The goal: Furs.  They got on well with the Native Americans, because they treated them as equals (though I wish they hadn’t introduced them to liquor) and many married into the native community. They considered Natives equal.

 In the winter when they used dog sleds for transport, they invested in fancy outfits for their pooches. Although, I tell you, I had to skip over the parts where they described the treatment of their poor animals. It was so painfully cold that the dogs would roll over on their backs and kicks their feet in the air begging for little leather booties- they did not have them for every dog. Yes, they had little leather booties for their pooches back in the 18^th century.

What is disturbing is the early introduction of alcohol to the Native community. One missionary wrote, “The Indians spend one half of the year starving and the other half intoxicated.” This was back in the 1700s. When you see that toothless Native American standing on a street corner begging for money, he represents seven generations of alcoholism. '

I have now written nearly 10,000 words – 100,000 words makes a book. While this was mere fluff, it’s time for me to get serious and get writing. What to write about?

Accepting aloneness, and, more than that, thriving in aloneness.

Back Home

I returned home yesterday. Kitty was a little more at ease on the way home. Just a little. Still mewed but not the entire way. Much of the time, he was cuddled up with his head nestled between front seat and back,  between Loverboy and me. I positioned pillows there so he could do so comfortably. Much of the way, he snoozed on my right hand, I drove with my left. I  don’t know if a cop would be pleased to see the set up, but I was so happy. At one point, Loverboy rested his little paw on my hand too and his head was cuddled next to Kitty’s.

I went from 7 a.m. to midnight. The ride home took five hours thanks to traffic and construction. It took me two hours to unpack and put everything back in its rightful place, and then there was washing everything, including Loverboy. Loverboy typically hates baths, but he submitted more easily than usual to this one. He probably didn’t like the pesticides on his body either. 

I was delighted to find out I had not gained an ounce of weight – not one ounce! And I wasn’t counting my weight watchers points at all. Granted, it’s not like I ate any naughty food, though I did go on a grilled meat frenzy – hamburgers, lamb chops, steaks and beef hot dogs.

Confessions: I am glad to be home. I loved being up north. It provided the time I needed to reset my outlook and escape from other people’s energy.