It’s June and this is Michigan and this morning I wore little knit glubs on my walk. Glub glub glub. You guys know what a glub is, roight? I did *not* wear my ski jacket but I think I better remember to pack it for Houghton Lake this weekend. Because who knows. It was an extremely long winter. I didn’t really notice it all that much except for the day the Dogha and I almost bit the dust on black ice. I am young and I can wield a snow shovel with the best of them and I like being out in the dark and the cold and I have a vee-hickle that can navigate snow up to oh, I dunno, about six inches of snow maybe. And if all else fails, I can work from home (although I have decided I *like* my work cubicle) and walk to the Plum Market for groceries if need be. Not a bad set-up (hope it lasts through these hard times). Blowing snow? Bring it on. Today. Yes, it started out pretty dern cold, lower 40s to be exact. By the time I got home, and we won’t talk about my commute home except to say that I didn’t get out of my vee-hickle and pound on anyone’s window and threaten to kill them. Yes, it was that bad. But I got lost somewhere in that last sentence. Anyway. I *finally* got home and boy has it turned into a nice day! Warm and sunny and not too hot. As I was wheeling my handy dandy Planet Ann Arbor garbage cart out to the curb, I saw my beloved elderly neighbors Hans and Myra walking gingerly down the sidewalk toward me, feeling the sun for the first time in months. There were days when the winter of 2009 caused some inconvenience for me. It was much harder on our elderly friends. I was glad to see them. They asked why our neighbor Joan’s house was for sale and I told them and I am not sure that they were aware that she had died. I am not the best neighbor. I work and I live in a revolving door of in and out of town on weekends. And I am not one of those just drop in for a cuppa folks in general. Maybe on the moominbeach but we were taught as kids that everywhere else on earth, you had to knock on people’s doors to ask to be admitted. On the moominbeach, we could just walk in to anyone’s cabin. It isn’t *quite* like that any more but pretty much. If you are in the bathroom, so what. Of course, back in those days, if you were in the bathroom, you were in the outhouse and therefore not in the cabin. And I am rambling incoherently now and so, g’night!!

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