The other day I woke up to a note beside my cot. "Mail Poop!" it said.
Oh ya, I had done one of those tests to check for colon cancer and I was supposed to mail in the "sample" within 24 hours. But I had not found a mailbox and then I had forgotten. In the middle of the night I remembered I needed to take care of this first thing in the morning.
Note to self, "Mail Poop!"
One of the reasons I travel is to escape the Florida summer heat.
Today, it will be in the 90's and humid in SE Minnesota.
Fortunately for me, I have many other reasons to pull my house behind my truck all over tarnation.
In Frankfort, Illinois I was in a part of the country I was raised in. I don't much care for the flat farmland. I always preferred the trees and hills of Wisconsin. Of course, when I am riding a recumbent, the flat land isn't so flat.
I rode my two-wheel crank-forward on the Folks On Spokes Club fundraising ride. We started out with some of Joan's friends, but they quickly discovered I was too slow.
When we got back to the park where we had started the ride, Joan went to put her bike in her car. I headed straight for the refreshments and Frankie who was volunteering at this stop. I said loudly to Joan that I was going straight to the pavilion because I didn't want to miss the entertainment. But I should have made sure she heard me. My voice is in a tone that even with her hearing aides she has trouble hearing.
Usually when I go on these organized fundraising rides the entertainment is done by the time I get back. When I had checked in I mentioned that to the volunteers who checked me in and they assured me that the music would still be going when I got back.
I parked my bike and walked up the hill to the pavilion. I saw the musicians packing up their Ukes. Yep, missed it again. Being slower than the road riders is my choice and the story of my life. I shouldn't get frustrated with it, but I was tired and disappointed anyway. I mentioned it a few times as I grabbed a slice of the last of the pizza and a cookie or two or three.
While I was chatting with Frankie and chowing down, Joan was in the parking lot wondering where I had gone. She even tried calling my cell. But I had left it on my bike at the bottom of the hill. She finally found me. Sorry, Joan!
She was a wonderful hostess, my room was so comfy, and I really enjoyed her back deck overlooking the pond where we watched a great blue heron fish and a busy muskrat swim.
Joan arranged to meet up and ride again in August when I am in Northern Minnesota on the Paul Bunyon Trail. Cool!
The next morning I packed up and headed toward Wisconsin.
I was going to be able to see George's daughter! I had not seen her for four years and I was so anxious to visit and learn about her life since we last were together. I also wanted to clear some space in my truck. I had a few boxes of her dad's things packed in the back seat I meant to give to her.
I texted her when I was about two hours from her home. When I was about an hour from her home, she texted back. She was in the hospital! She had a heart-attack. She was going to be released later that day, but I knew she wouldn't have the energy for company.
I was in shock. She is too young for a heart-attack!
I stopped and bought some big garbage bags at a Dollar General. I wrapped the items in the bags to keep them dry and left them near her front door.
Back on the road I headed toward "home".
Wisconsin Feels Like Home
George semi-retired on July 31, 2008. On August 1st he and I got on our trikes each of us pulling burleys with our tent-cots, computers and clothes. We biked from Waukesha to Lunney Lake Farm Campground. 72 miles, mostly on crushed limestone. The last leg of our ride that day was on the Capital City Trail. This was the first day of our 40-day ride around Wisconsin. No regrets there. We did it!
I looked up at the blue sky with fluff floating there, and I remembered those big fluffy snowflakes and how my granddaughter and I would tilt our heads back and stick out our tongues.