Surviving Traffic, and Susan's

This was a pleasant surprise at my in-laws' cabin -- a pair of cedar waxwings in a dead tree. As my father-in-law pointed out, that sleek crest and black mask almost look like some kind of space helmet. It's Superbird!

Northern Michigan is some good bird-watching territory. Even though I was there only a few days I saw some interesting winged critters. The downside: I did find a tick on my leg, but it wasn't attached to me and didn't seem to have bitten me anywhere.

The heat was pretty intense too, on our last night. Just before we went to bed the indoor thermometer read 82º F (28º C) which isn't exactly a comfortable sleeping temperature, even with fans. Somehow we survived, and by early yesterday morning drizzly rain was coming down.

We loaded the car, cleaned the cabin and began our drive south. We stopped in the tiny town of Atlanta for breakfast at a place called Susan's, where the food was adequate but the pace of service was glacial. While we were there a few customers came in and then left again without eating, but most people seemed content to linger and wait. I guess people in Atlanta aren't in much of a hurry.

There were some interesting political opinions expressed along the roadways, all of the flag-waving, Trumpian variety. Lots and lots of flags. Flag-o-rama.

Once we got to I-75, I drove most of the way back, from the town of Alger to Flat Rock, south of Detroit. It was kind of a crazy drive -- there was stop-and-go traffic all the way into Flint, which my in-laws attributed to vacationers headed home, and then we got a torrential, blinding rainstorm. And there was periodic road construction. And we passed one fairly serious-looking accident, with ambulances. I kept thinking, "What else could go wrong?" But of course that's not a question you really want to ask while driving.

Anyway, we made it, and after unpacking the car we had Little Ceasar's pizza and relaxed. Dave and his sister bought his parents an iPad for their anniversary, and he spent a lot of time trying to set it up. He used it to order the pizza -- he's trying to convince his mom to do more online rather than always trying to call people. "You're a woman of the 21st Century!" he told her, even though she's still mostly a woman of the 20th.

I tried to catch up on some blogs, now that I have Internet, and I'll read more today. I was glad to see that my automated post appeared yesterday, though somehow I set it to publish at the wrong time. Five-thirty p.m.? I don't know what I was thinking. Oh well. I'm glad many of you managed to find it.

If I ever get nostalgic for the rural sounds of the cabin, I can play this:

Steve Reed · Michigan Field in Summer

I recorded that in a sunny field near the house. Just the afternoon breeze, chirping insects and distantly squawking blue jays. Peaceful!