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| Morning snow in Midland |
It wouldn’t be Christmas without spending time with Kimberly’s parents, but at
the best of times, traveling over the holidays is an exercise in madness and
fury. So, for several years running, we’ve avoided the rush by
celebrating with her folks later in January. Michigan weather can always be
dicey this time of year, but so far, we’ve managed to make it there and back
again without getting stuck somewhere in transit. This year, the pandemic
added yet another complication, but our mutual consensus was that we should go
forth, continuing to take all possible precautions. We’ve all been vaccinated
and boosted, we have avoided other gatherings for the past several days, and
we have KN-95 masks, for whatever extra protection they might offer.
Fortunately, we were able to get a flight into Saginaw (MSB), which is
considerably closer than Flint, our typical port of entry to Michigan (Saginaw
is usually more expensive, but this time we found a decent flight deal).
Unfortunately, our regular house-and-cat sitter had come down with COVID, which we took as no good omen. Fortunately, we were able to engage a close and highly experienced friend to take on the task. Thus reassured, we began the next chapter in our ongoing series of Mad Midland Adventures.
Unfortunately, our regular house-and-cat sitter had come down with COVID, which we took as no good omen. Fortunately, we were able to engage a close and highly experienced friend to take on the task. Thus reassured, we began the next chapter in our ongoing series of Mad Midland Adventures.
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| Pilot, what the hell, man? |
Friday, January 14, 2022
We had a 5:10 p.m. flight out of PTI, so Brugger and I both worked
until three o’clock and then left for the airport. There, at one of the
terminal taverns, I found a damned good Bloody Mary (my customary traveling
spirit), which properly set the mood for the journey. Our flight to Chicago
O’Hare took somewhat longer than usual, given a strong headwind and fairly
serious snowfall in Chicagoland. But it was when we landed that I wondered
whether our pilot was drunk or simply lost. Because of my longtime affinity
for aviation, I’m pretty familiar with ORD, not to mention aviation protocol
in general. Our taxi to the terminal from Runway 9R took 30+ minutes, due to
our route from Point A to Point B extending to Point ZZZ before circling
back on itself (see my GPS track log on the left). Fuck a duck, man!
The main problem at this point was that I had to pee. All kinds of
badly. It took every ounce of effort in this body to hold back the tide, but
at last, we were freed. (Thankfully, we were sitting near the front of the
plane, so we were able to disembark quickly).
With an hour and a half before our flight to Saginaw, we took the opportunity
to grab supper (and another Damned Bloody Mary for me) at Chili’s (burgers and fries; not necessarily the greatest but reasonably satisfying).
The flight to Saginaw took a mere 40 minutes — but due to the precipitation
and frigid temperatures, the plane had to be de-iced prior to take-off. This
is usually not a lengthy process, and getting to the de-icing bay
didn’t take too long; but, for whatever reason, once de-iced, there we sat —
for a long time (considerably longer than the duration of the
flight itself). To my dismay, it was damned hot in that plane. And yes — you
guessed it — after that much time, I had to pee again, so as soon as we landed
and that cabin door opened, I fucking bolted.
In the terminal, we found Del & Fern waiting for us (they had arrived at
the airport a little early, so their wait for us had been a long one).
Happily, from MSB it’s only a 15-minute drive back to Casa di Brugger.
A steady snow was coming down, with about 4 inches of accumulation, but the
roads, as is typical in Michigan, remained relatively clear. So, once finally
ensconced in Kimberly’s family home, we promptly crashed and burned for the
night.
Saturday, January 15, 2022
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Brugger enjoying hot coffee inside a warm car while old man ventures
into the frigid cemetery on an ultimately ill-fated geocache hunt |
The first full day of any Midland trip is when we make the traditional
provision run to Meijer. And so it was today. While Meijer, like just about every retail store, is
currently shy of a lot of items, in general, we were able to find decent
stocks of the staples we were after. Whenever we’re here, it’s my pleasure
to provide at least a dinner or two for the family, and this time around,
I’ve put Bolognese (a.k.a. Ragu) on tomorrow’s dinner menu. Kimberly
brought some Paccheri pasta she picked up on our trip to Italy, which I hope
will be a good match for the sauce.
This afternoon, Ms. B. decided she would accompany me on a coffee/geocaching
outing, despite a little snow still falling and temperatures in the very low
teens. Me, I cared not a whit about the temperature; it’s geocaching.
Caching in the snow can be invigorating, though oftentimes one is limited to
finding “winter-friendly” caches (meaning they’re placed so they’re not
likely to be buried by ice and snow). Today, after stopping for coffee at
Live Oak Coffeehouse, I found mostly a bunch of readily accessible park & grab hides,
though I did have good fortune seeking a few for which snow and ice
augmented their natural camouflage. The sole cache I failed to locate was in
a cemetery — much to my chagrin, since I love cemetery hides. I
think I even found its hiding place, but a heavy coating of ice
rendered it inaccessible. I expect I’ll be able to verify whether my
suspicion is correct on some future cache hunt when the weather is more
cooperative.
While we were out, we noticed a massive dark cloud that stretched from horizon
to horizon. We realized this was not just a cloud but a sizable emission from
the Dow Chemical complex a few miles to the south. Unsure whether this might
be a normal issue from a smokestack or some dire accident, Brugger decided to
drive us down to
Overlook Park, which occupies relatively high ground and offers a panoramic view of the
Dow plant. Sure enough, we soon discovered that the massive cloud was, in
fact, just a big old belch from a row of smokestacks. Fortuitously, I managed
to snag a couple of more caches at the park.
Once back at Casa di Brugger, we enjoyed a fairly light dinner, drank a
little wine, and spent a typically pleasant evening with the folks in the
basement in front of the TV. A pleasing end to a pleasing day.
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Big old belch from smokestacks at Dow, seen from Overlook Park. The
massive plume went all the way across the sky to the far horizon, which was darkly spectacular. |
Sunday, January 16, 2022
Noonish, I began prep on the Bolognese Paccheri for our midday dinner. It’s
semi-authentic Italian, in that I use all the traditional ingredients but
customize it a bit by adding mushrooms, green olives, and hot chili pepper. We
had been shamefully remiss in our wine purchases on yesterday, for we had
neglected to pick up Italian wine (I blame Brugger). In its place, I used a
decent Zinfandel, which worked quite well. Having never cooked Paccheri
previously, I wasn’t sure how long it would take to come out properly al dente; for our four servings, eighteen minutes, it turned out. It was, in fact,
just right. And no one attempted to axe murder the chef, so I must consider
this dinner a grand success.
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| Bolognese and Paccheri, cooking and almost ready |
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| Plated, with fruit side and wine |
For the evening, the customary gathering of the family in the family room.
It’s a mighty fine place to be.
Monday, January 17, 2022
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| Tis a tad brisk. |
From the intel we’ve so far received, it sounds like, back home, Winter
Storm Izzy spared us its worst. We’re definitely hoping this is, in fact,
the case.
Here, it was a comfy 22℉ this morning — perfect for heading out for a nice,
long geocaching ride in the snow on the bicycle. Okay, not really, not for
the bike, but fine for borrowing the family vehicle and going after some
winter-friendly caches. I headed out into one of the few remaining areas of
Midland I haven’t cached out and picked up an even ten, mostly of the
park-&-grab variety. One in particular proved to be singularly
impressive — one of the most deceptive hides I’ve ever seen. I’ve seen other
caches similar to this one, but this one was the best. I’ll not identify the
specific cache, but I will divulge that it was video camera attached to a
large sign in front of a business. The hint on the cache web page was a few
lines from The Police’s “Every Breath You Take,” so I when I discovered the
camera — bolted in place with a real electrical connector —
I knew I must have found the cache. Still, it looked
so authentic I couldn’t bring myself to mess with it. Since the
business was open and the cache page indicated they were aware of the hide,
I decided to go in and ask the proprietor if he knew about the geocache on
the property. He did indeed, so when I asked whether I had actually found
the cache, he laughed and assured me that I had. He clearly appreciated that
I made the effort to check first. I would have felt horrible — and been
liable for damage — had I fucked with something I ought not have.
I gave this one an easy favorite point. And such are the joys of geocaching.
Come dinnertime, Ms. B. and I ordered Japanese — spicy tempura shrimp and a
spicy crab roll for me — from
Maru, which we had visited some time ago, pre-pandemic, and rightly enjoyed. It
was pretty good. After that, the family settled in and watched a number of
episodes of M*A*S*H, as Ms. B. had brought along a few DVDs from our
full set. That, and a nice red blend occupied us until bedtime.
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| Nemesis |
Tuesday, January 18, 2022
I woke up this morning after anything but the best sleep ever, my brain
preoccupied with all kinds of worries, some valid, some needlessly
exaggerated. The Rogue Brain at Night syndrome, or something such. Once
fortified with a breakfast of egg, sausage, mixed fruit, and a shit-ton of
coffee, out I went to look for a cache I had failed to find on a previous
trip — which the cache owner swears is in place. It’s supposed to be an ammo
can in a triple-trunk tree along a little-used road at the edge of town.
Well, there is only one triple-trunk tree that I’ve managed to spot anywhere
near the posted coordinates. It’s a great big one that matches the
descriptions from both cache page and previous finders’ logs, and there is
most assuredly no ammo can — or any other container — in or around this
tree. A query to the CO indicates I must be looking in the wrong place.
Somehow, I never thought I was that blind, and, to be honest, I still don’t.
Nemesis, this cache is.
On a positive note, once I gave up on Nemesis in frustration, I noticed a
new cache on the map not too far away. So, I made my way over to it — little
more than a mile — and managed to snag the first-to-find. It’s kind of nice
to log an FTF when I’m somewhere away from home. And from there, I found one
other cache before heading back to Casa di Brugger for a much-needed
refill of the hot coffee.
The folks and Ms. B. headed out on a shopping trip for the afternoon, so I
watched Godzilla Raids Again for good measure and made some
forward progress on my newest Ameri-Scares series novel,
Georgia: The Haunting of Tate’s Mill. It’s
been more or less on hold for too long a while as I’ve been working
diligently on a couple of other new, exciting projects, one of which I’ll be
posting about in the very near future. Stay tuned!
Our traditional evening gathering in the family room rounded out another
pleasant day at Casa di Brugger.
Wednesday, January 19, 2022
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| Pour les bon moments |
It was one year ago today that my brother, Alan (a.k.a.
Phred), passed away from leukemia. Hard to fathom such a rush of
time; it was just the other day, really. In some ways, emotionally, today
feels like a rocky ride; in others, it’s easier now to remember the better
times, much as it is with Mom’s memory. Here’s my tribute blog that I
wrote shortly after he died: The Universe Takes a Good One, January 19, 2021
This morning, I went on my customary early geocaching outing — which
started out frigid, for that wind was bitter. Fortunately, it died down
after a relatively short while, and then 30℉ felt all nice and comfy
again. Caching-wise, things didn’t start on a very promising note, as the
first couple I hunted appeared to be missing. But once I headed farther
north on some of the secondary roads, my fortune improved. I think I
snagged thirteen total, and a couple of them were challenging. One was a
magnetic nano on a light pole — about 18 feet up — whose retrieval and
replacement required some creative improvisation. Another was one I had
hunted while bicycling on a previous trip here, but it’s in a metal sheath
around a power pole, too high to reach without something to boost you. The
bike didn’t work for that purpose, but the car did. So I was able to turn
that DNF frownie into a nice big smiley.
The family went out for their typical afternoon shopping excursion, while I
got some writing done. Promo writing. My favorite kind of writing — not!
Mercy, I hate promo writing. Kinda gotta do it, but I hates it.
Come dinnertime, Ms. B. and I wended our way to
Whine!, which has long been one of our favorite Midland destinations for food and
spirits. On this trip, we really haven’t been out for dinner and such,
figuring the less exposure to the world in general the better.
Unfortunately, it seems like, no matter where you go anymore, masks are a
thing of the past. On the good side, while there were a fair number of
patrons at Whine!, they had tables spaced out very well, and the air
circulation seemed quite good. In the past, I’ve been fond of the martinis
at Whine! — dirty gin — so I stuck with that tonight. It was excellent
indeed. Ms. B. went for a Smith & Hook Cab Sauv, which I would call
decent, if utilitarian. (There is not so much as a whiff of snoot going on
here, is there?). She ordered Hurricane Shrimp — excellent! — and I decided
to stick to a theme and have the Bolognese on Pappardelle pasta. And you
know what? It was the best Bolognese I’ve had this side of
Italy. Possibly better than mine, maybe as good as friend Beth’s. I mean,
shit, it were dingy dang good! Compliments to the chef at Whine!, to be
sure.
A final night with the family in the family room, and we could hardly have
asked for a better time of it.
L: Ms. B. and wine at Whine! — something you never, ever, EVER see; R:
Old dude oblivious to the threat of
wine barrels toppling on his unprotected head
wine barrels toppling on his unprotected head
Thursday, January 20, 2022
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| Chicago just out of O’Hare, on our way back south |
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| The quilt Kim’s cousin Jeannie made for us |
For the final day of our trip, we opted to stay in and spend the better
part of the day with the family (the sub-freezing temperatures outside
had nothing — nothing, I tell you — to do with this decision). I
have much, much writing to do, so a little down time this
morning to make some forward progress turned out to be a good thing.
Every trip to visit the folks in Midland is memorable, as this one has
been. It was a bit more mellow, with fewer outings in public, since
hardly anyone in the area appears to acknowledge there’s still a pretty
ugly disease roaming the wild. Daily, I see reports of more and more
friends coming down with COVID-19 — mostly mild cases of Omicron,
fortunately. I feel certain that both Brugger and I — like virtually
everyone — will end up with it, since at this point it seems pretty much
inescapable unless one completely shelters in place, and I don’t think
any of us are willing to go that far. But we do intend to
continue taking every sensible precaution for ourselves and others. To
quote friend Patrick, who is currently suffering a bout of COVID:
“Fuck literally every human being whose decision tree made this more
likely, and thank you so much to everyone involved in creating the
things that make it more likely that my case is mild.” Hear, hear.
Au revoir, for now. Oh, and here is a little preview of coming
attractions:
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| Art by Daniele Serra |