Lady and gentlemen readers, I am peeking in to say hello and how ya doin’ before checking out of the computer world to spend more time watching goldenrod blossom, meditating deeply, being more and more present in this One Wild & Precious Life.
It’s nearing mid-August in Lake Superior land. What does that mean? The buzz of cicadas in the woods. Temperatures moderating near 75 degrees. (23.88 Celcius.) Blackberries ripening. Hummingbird males going crazy, swooping and attacking other males. The lake warming, so that swimmers ohhh and ahhh about mild temperatures, claiming no numbness while wading.
The garden produce ripens. Want broccoli? Cucumbers? How about green beans? We canned Dilly Beans today, seven pint jars filled with summer’s greenery and dill and garlic and how ’bout a jalapeno just to be daring? Add vinegar and water and some sugar–if you’re akin to sugar, which some Dilly Bean aficionados refuse–and salt, and OK, plan to open the jar and devour in six to eight weeks.
(We don’t know whether the jalapeno will blast the Dilly Beans into way-too-hot-world or whether it will taste just appropriately warm.)
You’re wondering about the cruising title, aren’t you?
You’re wondering what it means, aren’t you?
Yesterday, there was a vintage car show in Baraga. (Please do not ask for photos. I do not take photos of car shows, as well as refusing to cruise.)
Mr. Barry, my significant other, not yet three weeks into his second knee replacement, begged–yes, begged–his loving nurse to please, c’mon Kathy, won’t you please, drive the ’49 Studebaker pickup truck in the car show?
His buddy, John, promised free malts or sundaes or ice cream cones to vintage car drivers who stopped by his Frostie Freeze during the cruise.
“I don’t cruise,” I said firmly, with the proper authority.
“Oh c’mon, Kathy, it will be fun,” Significant Other insisted.
You know how it is, don’t you, when your Significant Other can’t drive his Studebaker pickup truck because of a new artificial knee that won’t stay bent at a cramped angle for the course of a cruise?
What is a Significant Other to say, besides “I won’t cruise.”
“OK, I’ll cruise,” I sighed, one of those long-suffering sighs that all Significant Others have experienced. “But I’m not going to like it.”
(Ha ha ha! Don’t you have to laugh at the things that come out of your mouth sometimes? Of COURSE you’re going to like it, you silly human. Just shut up and enjoy. Don’t let your mind determine what it thinks. Just be present & you’ll have a blast.)
We cruised, my lady and gentlemen readers, up roads and down.
People waved from the Baraga State Park. (I didn’t see them, as my eyes were trained on the car directly ahead, making sure not to hit him in the rear end when he braked.)
Barry was in 7th Heaven.
(Kathy was still on earth, but that’s OK.)
Kathy got a free Turtle Ice Cream Sundae from John’s Frostie Freeze. She talked with another Significant Other in the car show–someone who has cancer and is making the best of it. Someone who knows how to laugh and enjoy life to its fullest. Someone who entertains her fellow comrades in the Chemotherapy wards with jokes and encouragement every week–someone who keeps smiling day after day, month after month.
This woman cruises, day after day. She cruises through life, making the best of it. I am in awe and appreciation of her incredible cruising.
After meeting her, I want to say, “I cruise.” At every opportunity.
Do you cruise?