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9:01 p.m. - 2004-10-03
Greetings, Ann Arbor residence
Well hello friends and dear readers.

I have arrived in Michigan. I am now a Michigander or a Michiganian, according to Matt Hale, but what does he know? He's only been here a year or two.

Last night I stayed at Collin's parents' house, near Chicago. At the train station, I was presented with some lovely white and yellow roses. We (Collin, his mom, me) had a delicious Italian dinner at a nearby restaurant, watched an Irish soap opera and I got creamed at Scrabble. I didn't realize I was getting involved with an entire family of professional Scrabble players. With the exception of suggesting that I must have led a sheltered life (in reference to my not having heard of her evidently very famous Pittsburghian dance troupe) Mrs. Rich is a very sharp lady.

The train was pretty uneventful, but very relaxing. I opened a package from Collin that included some great books, including one exclusively on the topic of mullets. There were also homemade brownies, a starbucks card, and a wonderwoman lunch box. There was also a gift certificate to a spa in the mountains near my parents cabin, which I SALIVATE over, every time we go to the restaurant near it. I am SO pumped about that.

So, back to the train. I had a character of a train attendent. He was in his sixties, black and really good at his job. I had a great time chatting with him. I also made friends across the hall with a retired couple from Portland, a doctor from Kentucky and a guy in non profit Tacoma. One day I had lunch with these two strange people who both talked about friends of theirs who had died in this very detached, but sort of solemn way. It was almost like they were trying to top each other...I know more people who died than you do! I felt kind of uncomfortable, in an "I might laugh inappropriately" kind of way, and was trying to hurry to finish my lunch, at which point he lamented on the plight of the native american which led her to sigh about the "demise of the buffalo." Oh boy. Mind you these people didn't know each other before they sat down to lunch.....he was about 35 and a very large person who claimed to be a fisherman who had gone overboard seven times in high seas and survived. She was in her 60s and retired and claimed to have met several presidents and to have won a pie eating contest at a county fair. I slurped down my side dish of cold, white cooked asparagus that was the consistency of a big fat worm, and high tailed it back to my delightfully cozy little sleeper car.

I strongly recommend everyone travelling by train BY YOURSELF at least once in your life. It was relaxing, cleansing and stimulating, but not overly so. I wrote more in my journal on that trip than I have in the last three months.

Tonight, here at the Baird's residence, I ate goose for dinner. No kidding. Jen's friend, David, killed it. It was good. But Brian found some buckshot in his. He held it up and tossed it onto the table. I proceeded cautiously through my fowel. But it was surprisingly yummy. The five and eight year olds even finished theirs.

Now, Shelby, the co-dependent dog is curled up near me...Jen is on the phone with hurricane girl, Jenn Webb who happens to be residing in Florida....Collin, after a trip to the computer software store, is dismantling and reassembling my laptop, so I'll be web-accessible, iTunes accessible. To quote the ever so eloquent Salt-N-Peppa, Whatta man.


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