It's in the Trees, and Don't Wanna Die Young

Kind of like the 1962 Godzi I finally acquired recently ("Oh Lawd, He Comin'," Thursday, March 26, 2026), I was finally able to find the SF Revoltech 5" figure of Mogera, from Toho's 1957 SF spectacle, The Mysterians at a decent price. So, I set about creating a new Photoshop scene of the little guy, pictured above. The line "It's in the trees! It's coming!" from Night (Curse) of the Demon is apt, so that's what I call it.

There was a geocaching lunch event at Uptown Charlie's in Browns Summit, NC, today—called "Don't Wanna Die Young," since its theme was extreme caches, which was a topic of some enjoyable conversation. I set out early and grabbed a number of caches I hadn't yet found, mostly around Reidsville. Just a handful of attendees today, but it was great fun.

This afternoon, a visit to Hamlet Kitchen for wine with friend Gretchen, who is recuperating from a knee replacement is on the docket.

Laterz.

Options

I figured I ought to check in here on ye olde blog this evening, as it's been way too long since I've had the opportunity to post any updates. It's no exaggeration to say that the past two weeks have been the most uncertain, discombobulating, and stressful that I have ever lived through, topped off by an uncomfortable and infuriating sinus/respiratory bug. My mom's personal circumstances, which have been nominally stable for the past few years, nose-dived recently, when she succumbed to pneumonia and took a couple of falls. This has required an unprecedented level of intervention on my part (and my brother's, to some extent), and a major life-change for her is now inevitable. Beyond that, there's no need to elaborate, so I'll merely ask that those of you who consider me a friend please keep me, my brother, and my mom in your hearts. It's a tough, tough time, and every little bit of support means the world to me.

At this point, things have settled enough that we can  take a breather before the next round. At least, I hope so. The next round is coming, but I feel that we are as prepared as prepared can be under the circumstances.

I've been able to work in only the barest minimum of geocaching (that which keeps me sane), but today, a couple of new trail hides awaited my attention. After work, I met friend Fishdownthestair (a.k.a. Natalie) out at the Kingfisher Trail, just north of Greensboro, where a couple of new caches required my attention. (Fortuitously, one of them — called "Options" because there's more than one method of reaching the well-hidden cache — belongs to Ms. FDTS herself.) Hers proved to be a wonderfully conceived, physically challenging hide, which required a certain degree of acrobatic prowess to conquer (see photo above). That done, it was on to friend Old Rob's newest. Happily, we made short work of it. I also ended up doing unexpected maintenance on one of my own hides out there, which required acrobatics of the same sort you see in said photo. Someone had replaced it somewhat out of keeping with its original intent (again, see photo), and I wasn't about to let that stand. Thing is, when I retrieved her new cache, Natalie had neglected to take any photos, so on our return trip, I recreated my original venture to ground zero (photo) so she could snap the requisite pictures.

Afterward, we ventured forth to Uptown Charlie's, one of our favorite post-caching dining destinations, where I partook of Pernicious IPA and Suicide Chicken Wings. So, for at least this evening, a sense of normality, or something such, managed to prevail, and thus energized, it is back to the writing of my next Ameri-Scares novel, this one for the state of Ohio, tentatively titled Fear the Grassman! Hey, it's Bigfoot, man.

Coming up, one thing I think I might do here — for my own sake — is occasionally post some recollections of my mom from over the years. I feel it will be therapeutic, and a touch of therapy about now could only be a good thing. You may change the channel or go out for a drink if you prefer; it won't bother me. Some things I do share, but they're really about preserving personal history. I trust you understand.

Till the next.

The Big, Beastly Bison and Others

Three-quarters of Team COG on Lake Townsend: Fishdownthestair, Diefenbaker, and Old Rodan,
with Old Bloody One-Eyed Rob behind the lens

This past week, three new geocaches came out on Lake Townsend, all of which required a boat to access — unless one might be inclined to do some serious wading, as friend Ranger Fox, a.k.a. Christopher, did at one of them earlier this week. Today looked to be a beautiful, if somewhat scorching day for a paddle, so a number of the usual suspects — Diefenbaker (a.k.a. Scott), Fishdownthestair (a.k.a. Natalie), and Old Bloody One-Eyed Robgso (a.k.a. Rob) — gathered this morning to see if we might make short work of the three caches, and perhaps get first-to-finds on the two as yet unlogged. One of them — The Big, Beastly Bison (GC8AD72) — looked as if it might present some physical challenge, as the published description put it some distance up in a tree whose limbs were not fit for climbing. So, we chose it as our first target.

Diefenbaker preparing to retrieve The Big, Beastly Bison

Once at ground zero, we spotted the container quickly and considered our various options. Diefenbaker had brought ropes and tackle; Fishdownthestair came with her prodigious height (roughly 5' 1"), which we figured sufficient to conquer any vertical challenge; Old Rob brought his customary bad attitude; and I had built up a substantial reserve of sheer brute strength after enjoying a couple of bottles of The Old Infuriator with Ms. B. late last night.

In the end, using a combination of the aforementioned tools of the trade, we soon had the cache in hand. And hot diggity, the log sheet didn't have a mark on it. It does now. From there, we paddled on under a hot sun, occasionally relieved by a fair breeze. We made short work of "Temptation"(GC8AD6G), the one Ranger Fox had already found, and scored another nice FTF at "Turtle Point" (GC8AD2E). On the way back to the marina, we stopped at a handful of other caches some of our group had yet to find. We are nice that way. Except for me, I am told. I am merely that villainous scum at the front of the pack.

Afterward, three of our number, sans Old Rob, sallied forth to Uptown Charlie's, not too far away, which has been the customary destination for lunch when our crowd is dripping wet after a geocaching outing. Their chicken wings with suicide sauce are to die for. I wouldn't be surprised if the staff wonders why, every time a certain group comes in, watery footprints appear on the floor. It is all rather ghostly.

Since the owners of the new lake caches — Skyhawk63 (a.k.a. Tom) and Punkins19 (a.k.a. Linda) — live very near my route home, I made a brief stop at their place to offer my regards and thank them for the caches.

And now, so many things to do and so little time. Au revoir, mes amis.

The Old Man and the Sea... er... Lake

Damned Rodan taking a breather