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August 19, 2003

Written August 17th, 2003
Here’s something: I’m sitting by the wetlands at the Gleason cabin in very northern Wisconsin, typing my blog. It’s still, it’s quiet, it’s beautiful. The cabin is set a gorgeous little bend in these wetlands that stretch from one lake to another, so from the private pier all one sees is a span of green grasses bending away in both directions to a broad field of reeds and a background of evergreen trees. From there, I can’t see any of the other cabins which are known to be settled back into the woods somewhere. I can hear someone hammering off in the woods, across the water-fields, and occasionally a boat comes by with vacationers and a dog, but that’s about it. What a place. I do wish I had made it up to Michigan this year.

Which reminds me, I’ll be in Michigan next weekend, but not in the place where I usually go and not for a vacation. Next weekend is my friend Zach’s wedding, and I’ll be passing through Chicago on my to attend. Even more than I’m excited about the wedding stuff, I’m very anxious to the new girlfriend of my good friend Tony.

Sara and I just arrived here yesterday afternoon and today we’re leaving. Last night was a marvelous mess of food, alcohol, catching-up, and poker talk. Mike made what might be the best steak I’ve had in four-hundred days; really exquisite. A few of us went out to Dairy Queen for summer-type nonsensical quasi-food afterwards. When we got back, we found that the power was out at the cabin. (Hello, New York.) So we went ahead with our fire-making plans. This is where Wagner demonstrates that he is descened from Prometheus and creates fire, seemingly, by blowing once on a warm log. So, sitting by the fire soon becomes drinking beer around the fire, which becomes passing some honorably old bottle of some Mexican liquor around the fire, to passing a bottle of Jim Beam around the fire. I was, without a doubt, the least drunk person present. Much hilarity ensues as Mike all-but passes out on the pier and then knocks around in the kitchen to make Tony a bloody mary. Good times.

This morning — it’s 10am, now — I’m the only one up, and have been for more than an hour. I went out and drove around a little, saw some deer and a chipmunk, and now I’m back here typing my blog by the wetlands at the Gleason cabin in very northern Wisconsin. Tomorrow, it’s into overdrive at work and freelance. This afternoon, we see if the drive back can suck a little bit more than the drive here. Right now, I just sit here and wait for people to wake up.

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