From the Man's Point of View...

For years, my sister Barbara has complained that I’m always on her husband Jonathan’s side. Even before they were married, I was usually taking his side or at least seeing his point of view in an argument. I’ve learned since to just step aside from those discussions and not take a side, if you will, or at least keep my mouth shut if I have an opinion!

I guess I’ve always thought I was merely trying to see the other person’s side because my Mom’s really good at that, and I figured maybe some of it carried over from my experiences with her. But then this last year, it has come up several times in my discussions with friends, too.

A girlfriend will be relaying a story about a guy she is interested in, or how she’s been waiting on a guy to call her, etc. I try to be as sympathetic as I can be, but inside, I’m asking: why does everything have to be on his shoulders? or why don’t you just call him? or did it ever occur to you that he might be nervous, too? I have these questions going round and round in my head, and sometimes they just pop out. I mean, I want to be honest, and I don’t always mean to play devil’s advocate...

But somehow I think that men (especially in regards to relationships) have it rough! I know that this goes against everything in the girl code that we live by...where we all stick together and stuff. I’m sure I’ll get emails from friends asking me to re-read my girl handbook again, but I can’t help the fact that I truly think that some men get the raw end of the stick.

We women seem to think that men should have us figured out by now. I mean, come on, we’re women. We’re lovable, adorable, giving creatures. All we ask for is that everything in our lives to be PERFECT!!! And the instant a man doesn’t fit into that mold or dream he needs to live up to--well, it’s time to write him out of our lives.

He called too late one evening (so inconsiderate)…
or he forgot to call at all (rude and a liar)…
or he calls too much (needy and clingy).
Verdict: Time to end it!

He mentioned his ex-girlfriend (pathetic—get over her already)…
or he forgot to mention that she was going to be at the same party you were attending (liar and inconsiderate).
Verdict: Time to end it!

He did not pay for my meal (cheap and rude)…
or he paid for my meal without even asking (conceited)
or he asked if he could pay for my meal (pathetic ploy).
Verdict: Time to end it!

He failed to open the car door (so unchivalrous)…
or he forgot to introduce you to his friend at the restaurant (unpolite).
Verdict: Time to end it!

He asked to meet you at the restaurant (unchivalrous)…
or he wants to pick you up at your house (stalker).
Verdict: Time to end it!

So I read over those items above and I have to laugh. I mean, we’re asking men to do things we don’t even expect from our best friends. I’m not going to stop being friends because my friend fails to call me back when expected or doesn’t think to introduce me to another friend she runs into. Yes, I’m sorry my friend forgot to call me back, but then, I’ll just call her or email her later anyway. And yes, it would be polite for my friend to introduce me to her other friend that we’ve bumped into, but sometimes it’s easy to fall right into conversation, and it gets forgotten. Just one of those things...

Women are NOT that easy to understand. I know I’m not. I’m highly changeable about what I think from one moment to the next, and half the time I don’t understand myself. Why is it that I’m expecting another person (a man especially) to just get me from day one? It’s like we women are out to test the man from the first date to see if he can withstand our antics. It’s important to be ourselves, but it’s another matter to act as if men are the only ones with the issues that we have to discover ASAP.

OK, women...what about our moods? What about our playing hard to get or the way we act coy? Why is it that we hold back and don’t reveal anything of our true selves until we think we’ve caught the guy? What about how we love to gossip and share things with our friends that should stay private – especially about men? Why is it that we have these unrealistic expectations about men, but we ourselves refuse to change our own habits?

I don’t think dating should be all about learning the other person’s faults as quickly as possible so to eliminate that person from the running. I think dating should be about getting to know the other person (the good, the bad and the ugly) just because you want to! You like them, and you hope they are learning to like you, and so you date to get to know them better…not to find a reason to cross them off your list!

OK, so I’m no dating expert. I don’t claim to be an expert at relationships at all. I’ve just been observing a trend lately with my friends, and I start to wonder if maybe we just don’t make it all more complicated than it needs to be. Why couldn’t it be like grade school again? Hi, I’m Mel. I think you’re cute. Can we be friends?

I’m not ambitious…

At least not in the most common use of the term. I don’t have that inner drive to make exorbitant amounts of money or climb the corporate ladder. To me, success means a job well done. I am a hard worker (and sometimes a bit of an over achiever), and so I feel successful now even without the large bank account and oodles of stress. I’m doing what I’m paid to do. I’m achieving my goals and making my deadlines. Is there room for improvement? You better believe it. I have lots of places I need to work on. It’s just that I feel successful in my job because I feel that I’m putting forth my best effort, and that’s a good feeling. Sure it would be nice to have more of a disposable income and a nicer job title with perks. Who doesn’t want that, really? But I don’t feel like a failure because I don’t have those things.

Lately, however, I’ve started to doubt my lack of ambition due to conversations around the office. One of them involved a young lady who did a co-op internship here at DAS. She will graduate this May with a Bachelors degree in Business and has received offers from 2 different firms—one position has a starting salary of $60,000 with a $5,000 signing bonus and the other position has a salary of $50,000 with a $1,000 signing bonus. Sounds awfully nice to me!

When I hear stories about new grads starting out with salaries like that, I start to wonder if there is something wrong with me. I have my Bachelor’s degree—not in business, but in journalism, and when I left college, there were no jobs to be had. I started out at a day care taking care of infants, moved on to be a bank teller, eventually became an assistant to a college advisor, then on to an administrative assistant for a quasi-state entity, and now here I am 10 years later… I make decent money, but it’s not $50,000 a year. I make enough to pay my bills and do most of the things I like to do. I’d like to travel to Europe and see more of the world, but right now my money is going towards other things like paying off debt and such. But over all, what I have is sufficient. I’m content, but should I be?

Why is it that I don’t dream about riding up the corporate ladder so much? Instead my dreams are of meeting a man with a British accent. Why don’t I have visions of a bigger bank account? Instead I imagine having a small little home and taking care of my family.

Hmmmm…I think it’s all about perspective. Money isn’t the bottom line for me, and rising to the top in my company doesn’t give me a tingly feeling at all. I guess I’m ambitious in other ways. I’d like to travel, I’d like to get married, I’d like to have a little place of my own, I’d like to finish my book, I’d like to take photography classes, I’d like to do a lot of things...

I guess, you could say that I have oodles of ambitions! HA!

Happy Thanksgiving, Everyone!

I hope your time with family, friends, pets, plants, etc. is delightful and extra special. I’ll be dog-sitting, and so it will be me and Chas (short for Charles, you know) for 5 days straight. But I’ll be staying in a 5-bedroom home, enjoying lots of extra space, etc. Loving it! Probably getting some scrapbooking done or Christmas cards made. Wherever this holiday finds you--ENJOY!

And for all of you who just need a friendly hug today or even something to smile about, check out this link.

Decorating for the Holidays

Late Saturday afternoon, two of my girlfriends stood by on spider duty while I opened the outside storage door and entered the world of the unknown to retrieve 2 of my storage bins full of my Christmas décor. Much to my surprise and delight, we didn’t spot a single living creature…no spiders, no bugs, etc. There were a couple of weds to wipe off the outside surface of the bins, but all seemed well. And the large spider that has been tormenting me for months by popping up every now and then between the glass and the screen doors—well, she was a no-show. (Sigh!)

We dragged the bins indoors, and my friends left me then to my own decorating mayhem. I quickly assembled my new pre-lit Christmas tree and was rather excited by the new look. How fun! I was really looking forward to decorating a tree again. I didn’t put up a Christmas tree last year since I had tossed out my old tree the year before. .

I opened up the first bin to pull out my ornaments and was greeted with a big surprise. [OK, before everyone starts to panic and before my fellow arachnophobia sufferers feel the need to send me flowers, let me just say that there were no spiders to scream about.] However, what I found was not a good surprise. Everything inside the box was covered with mold. I saw white fluffy mold on the soft stuff—the Christmas pillow, the soft ornaments, etc.; and then a brown mold had settled on all the metal, the boxes, the other ornaments, etc. I quickly resealed the plastic bin and stepped away from it. I thought for a moment and then calmly wrapped a scarf around my neck and covered my mouth and nose, put on my yellow rubber cleaning gloves and marched outside with my green plastic bin. I’m sure to the casual observed I looked quite the sight as I dealt with my own form of bioterrorism in my home.

I carried the bin over to the dumpster and starting sorting through the contents. There was very little I could save or felt comfortable in keeping. Into the dumpster went the Christmas pillow, the Christmas balls and tinsel, the Christmas snow globe that I cherished, the porcelain santa bag, the Christmas baskets and tins and the Christmas ornaments from my childhood (the corncob girl, the brass ornaments with my name on them). I also threw the plastic bin away as well. I don’t know the rules on molds, but I just know that you have to be really careful with stuff like that, and I wasn’t going to risk it all for a $7 plastic bin.

Out of the whole big 30 gallon bin, I think I saved 3 glass votive holders, which were immediately brought straight into the house and put through a dishwasher cycle. All in all, it was rather sad.

I went through the 2nd bin and was pleased to find no traces of mold at all, and so I still had a few decorative pieces from Christmas past. I was disheartened at first until I realized what this really meant…this was my chance to start over on my Christmas decorations. A chance for me to select the colors, the styles and the designs I most liked for my Christmas tree. No more a hodge-podge, cluttered mix of ornaments! I could make this tree out the way I wanted to.

So on Sunday, I went shopping, and a few hours later, I returned home with an empty wallet, and lots of red, green, white and silver ornaments in tow. My tree is up and nearly complete. I have a few finishing touches to wrap up, but I like my new tree so far. Part of me misses the homier feel of my old tree complete with the sentimental ornaments of my past, but I also am enjoying the classier elegance of this new era, too. I love decorating for the holidays, don't you?

Today, I’d Like to Thank my Mom…

...for introducing her daughters to classical music. I did some radio surfing this morning and nearly teared up at hearing a favorite piece, Pachabel’s Cannon in G. WOW! Pieces like that move me. They stir my soul. There is beauty there...a real beauty.

We grew up in a house where music was appreciated. Of course, it had to be the RIGHT KIND of music. No Elvis or Beatles! No Madonna or Prince in our home! But Bach, Mozart, Chopin, Tchaikovsky, and Beethoven among others were the popular choices instead. My sister and I would blare the classical pieces on Friday nights as we did our household chores. [WAIT! Is it possible to "blare" classical music?] We’d twirl like ballerinas on the living room carpet, or we’d glide like ice skaters across the kitchen floor as we listened to our Grandpa’s old 45 records. My sister would also “play” the pieces on the old floor radiator in our living room.

Eventually, we both took piano lessons. She excelled at it. I didn’t. I would “attempt” to play the piano. I would try. Really, I did. No one could accuse me of not trying. I would spend countless hours practicing my pieces (and torturing my perfect ear and perfect pitch sister) as I struggled with the rhythm and notes of pieces like Moonlight Sonata.

As a teenager, I tired of classical pieces. It wasn’t cool to listen to that kind of music. I wanted to be like everyone else. Secretly, my sister and I together with our friend Lisa spent hours listening to the New Kids on the Block and Richard Marx.

In college, once again I was relatively sheltered from modern music. There were classical art series, operas, plays and Sunday vespers to attend. And the music in the dorms had to be a certain standard, too. So, I introduced my roommates to some of the classics, and together we’d sing along to a Broadway musical or two. Sunday mornings were for The Sound of Music and white glove cleaning was definitely easier with The Fiddler on the Roof.

Two college summers spent at Camp Spearhead in South Carolina and this girl went country. I was hooked on George Strait and Martina McBride as well as the bluegrass stylings of Alison Krauss and Union Station. It was good stuff. I gradually moved on to some soft rock--Elton John, Enya and Sarah McGlachlan just to name a few.

When I moved to Indy, my tastes in music seemed to change again. I hit the rock scene. I started out listening to Madonna. And somewhere along the way, my tastes grew darker. Nickelback, Evanescence and Blue October are current favorites.

Today, I still enjoy Gavin DeGraw and James Blunt while driving in my car. On other days, nothing makes me smile like a good country song. While cleaning or organizing in my apartment, I usually need a good Broadway musical playing or Sarah Brightman singing in my head. And yet, I thrill at the excitement I experience when I attend a classical concert or I still get tingles when I hear Pachabel on the radio on the way to work.

I may marvel at the lyrics of a Train song or be struck at the honesty of Cold Play, but I love the beauty and harmony of a classical piece. I may appreciate lots of other music, but nothing gets to my core like the classical stylings of Beethoven or the stirring renditions of a Mozart violin concerto. It’s truly wonderful stuff!

Thanks, Mom! I may not have always appreciated it like I do now, but today finds me grateful...

Next month will be 2-year blog anniversary.

I realized this because my sister Nuwanda mentioned that her blog was turning 2, and it reminded me that my anniversary would soon follow afterwards. I've been re-reading some of my blogs and laughing and tearing up at the same time.

Funny how, I'm different now but yet the same. Like my first blog for example. It's so gut-wrenchingly honest. Just as true today as it was then...but at the same time, I've learned a little bit since then. I'm filling up the empty space. I'm not always successful at psyching myself out, but I try! I'm learning that life isn't always about happy joy moments. Part of me is sad that the optimist in me doesn't make appearances much anymore. She's been replaced with the cynical idealist who sees the world through "cracked rose-colored glasses." That doesn't mean I'm unhappy. I'm just more awake and seeing things as they really are and calling them as they are.

Yes, I can't escape drama. There will always be drama in my life; after all my name is Melanie and melancholy is the name of the game. However, I think with age, I'm learning to embrace the drama. To allow the drama to be around me rather than in me. I'm far from cured, but I'm OK with that. After all if I were perfect, what would people complain about!

Getting My ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ's...

I'm signed up for a sleep study, per my doctor. This all came about because my roommate at a weekend girls' get-away to St. Louis commented one morning that I seemed to have trouble breathing in my sleep. In fact, I'd stop breathing for a minute, and then it was as if I'd suddenly revive and start wheezing and gasping for air and all this when I was apparently sleeping. I mean, I woke up the next morning and didn't know a thing about it. And goodness, since I live alone with my plants (and they'd never mention it since I'm the real conversationalist, and they usually don't talk back), I had no idea that I was struggling for air in my sleep.

So, after discussing it with my doctor yesterday, she seemed to think it quite possible that I have some kind of sleep apnea disorder. Interesting! My family has thought for years that my oldest brother Mike has sleep apnea, but I don't think he's ever been diagnosed. I just know that when we are all sleeping in the same house, it's rather noticeable when Mike stops breathing. The whole household anxiously waits for him to take a breath. It's rather scary.

On November 30th at 10:15 PM, I will be checking myself into a local hospital for the night. I'll be hooked up to various electrodes and stuff to measure my activity. I'm basically picturing Frankenstein's monster here...you know with cables going everywhere and this leather strap tying me down to a table. HA! I'm supposed to just fall asleep with all this stuff on? We'll see.

Seriously, my real anxiety is that I won't be able to fall asleep at all. My Doctor assured me that every one of her patients have gone to sleep during the study, but leave it to me, I'll be the freak! HA!

Mel-icious UP Recap Part 3

Wednesday, September 13: That morning, I caught a funny shot of my Mom blow drying her damp hair while reading her Bible. She’s very economical with her time. This was also the day that my Mom and I finished the puzzle we had started on Saturday.

It was another overcast day, although the rain mostly threatened rather than soaking us as we made our touring stops. That morning, we went to Whitefish Point Lighthouse and walked through the lighthouse keeper’s home and other buildings. We visited the Great Lakes Shipwreck Museum with the infamous Edmund Fitzgerald memorial. [My Mom referred to it as the “sinking of the Ella Fitzgerald” once in conversation, and we’ve never let her forget it!]

That afternoon, we drove along the Lake Superior scenic shore and stopped at several beaches for some photos. I did wade in just up to my ankles. It was rather chilly, but you have to wade in the water at least once when you visit. We visited Point Iroquois Lighthouse. The lighthouse itself doesn’t have all that much for tourists to see, but the shoreline there is just beautiful. We continued on our drive along the coast all the way to Sault Ste. Marie. There we hit a Wal-mart so that I could burn CDs of my over 300 digital shots so far. AHEM! Yes, I realize that it sounds a bit obsessive. But my memory cards were full, and the week was only half over!

And then we went to see the Soo Locks. This was probably my most memorable visit to the Soo. Normally, I tolerate a stop there for my Dad’s sake because I don’t find it all that thrilling. Big boats going through small gates! Whoopety-doo! But for some reason on this visit, I finally grasped the engineering genius at work and found it fascinating this time as we watched a Canadian freighter make its way through the locks. Guess, you are never too old to learn new things and gain a new appreciation of something.

Thursday, September 14: We drove to Munising and visited several out-of-the-way waterfalls. My Mom navigated as my Dad drove us into new territory. It was rather adventurous. We opted not to visit one falls because of the large mud puddle covering nearly the entire breadth of the one-lane road. My Dad had me get out and step into the puddle to see how deep it was. RIGHT! I’m going to risk new white tennis shoes. I don’t think so. HA! I barely touched the water and decided against putting my foot in any farther. YUCK! So, we decided that the Laughing Whitefish Falls was not worth the risk of getting our vehicle stuck out in the middle of nowhere. HA!

After visiting several of the waterfalls, we went down by the shore and got our tickets for the evening Pictured Rocks Cruise. I have always wanted to take the cruise, but I had no idea how wonderful it was going to be. It was well worth the $30 cost. I loved the 2 ½ hour adventure out on the water. We had seats inside the boat alongside massive windows, but I kept running to the back of the boat on the outside deck to take photos. I spent the majority of the evening on the back of the boat with the other photographers. It became a joke between my parents and I that the other photographers seemed to follow my lead. When I would head to the back of the ship, they would soon join me. Couldn’t they tell that they were following a complete amateur! HA! But I sure was a photo-freak. I took over 200 shots on that one cruise, but believe me, it was magnificent. I loved the spectacular views of the shoreline, the white sandstone cliffs, the crisp green and blue water, etc. It was highly enjoyable.

Truth is that I enjoyed the boat ride almost near as much as the photographic journey itself. I love being on boats like that. And since I was hanging out on the back of the boat for most of the ride, I had a lot of time breathing in the freshwater air and enjoying the gentle spray of the water, too. It was incredible. I think I was meant to be on the water or something. I’m meant for a life of leisure—you know weekends in Michigan with my Howard out on our small yacht. [You getting this, Howard?] I was joined by a crowd of people on the back of the boat toward the end of the ride while one of the captains tossed bread to the seagulls hovering over head. It was rather fascinating watching those birds dive for a morsel of bread.

And then there was the assistant captain himself, CJ—I think his name was, he was near me at the back of the ride, and I almost think he was flirting with me. At first I ignored him because I assumed that his underhand comments were meant for someone else, but then I realized that he WAS TALKING to me! On the drive back to Paradise that evening, I found out that Mom and Dad had spent the first part of the cruise chatting with CJ. I guess he was extra talkative, and knowing my friendly parents and the fact that they tend to tell perfect strangers things, the guy got my shoe size and my home address, too. HA!

Friday, September 15: This was our lazy, relaxing day. We spent that morning just enjoying the day and free time at the cabin. That afternoon, we drove back along the Curly Lewis Scenic Highway, which is this windy road that runs along Lake Superior. We stopped at several beaches and waded in or skipped rocks along the shore. It was a deliciously pleasant day!

Saturday, September 16: We got an early start that morning toward home. We stopped at a park across from the Mackinac Bridge and took some final photos before heading back across the Lower Peninsula. We got back into Croswell early that afternoon, and then Aunt Peggy and I drove back to Indiana. I was back in my apartment in Indy before midnight that night. AHHHH!!! Nice to be back home in my own bed.

Mel-icious UP Recap Part 2

Monday, September 11: We took the Shepler’s Ferry to Mackinac Island. It’s a fascinating place to visit again and again. There are no motor vehicles allowed on the island, and so you have to walk, ride a bike or rent a carriage to get anywhere. We opted to rent bikes first and ride around the 8-mile island (another tradition). It was a fun but tiring adventure. It had been years since I had ridden a bike period. No crashes to report, but we all had TBS or Tired Butt Syndrome (as my Dad calls it). You ride alongside the water almost the entire ride, and it is incredibly beautiful.

Once we finished our ride, we had a picnic lunch and then Mom and I went to Fort Mackinac while Dad opted to check out the shops. It’s a long walk up the hill to the fort especially after an 8-mile bike ride. I had never been inside the fort before, and it was rather fascinating to walk through. Lots of old historic buildings to tour, guides demonstrating guns and cannons, spectacular views from the hilltop of the Mackinac scenes below, etc. It was well worth the cost.

Afterwards, we visited a few shops and of course, made our traditional purchases of ice cream and fudge. After all, you can’t visit Mackinac Island without getting some delicious fudge. There are at least a dozen fudge shops along the strip along with oodles of tourist shops.

Tuesday, September 12: It rained most of the day, but that wasn’t going to keep us from our schedule. We spent a great portion of the day driving anyway, and this day was also full of first-time visits to new sites. We drove to the Fayette Historic Townsite and toured it for FREE with our umbrellas armed and ready. Fayette was once home to a bustling iron ore industry in the 1870-1890’s. It’s a ghost town now—complete with abandoned buildings, remnants of production, etc. The splendid thing about Fayette was the view. The town was built along the Bay de Noc, and the lovely water is on all sides of the town. On one side, the incredible Dolomite Cliffs reminded me of what I picture the Cliffs of Dover in England to be like. [Sigh!] They are probably nothing alike, but it tingled my imagination anyway…

Our 2nd stop of the day was to Kitch-Iti-Kipi or “The Big Spring.” This was another free place to visit! It was this fantastic out-of-the-way spring with transparent green water filled and large fish everywhere. You maneuver this small boat across the water on cables, and along the way, you can see through the bottom of the boat and glimpse the large fish in the 45 foot bubbling spring beneath you. We encountered a strange looking bird on the shoreline, too. He just sat there, pooping in the water. It was bit odd, but we just couldn’t look away. It was one of those odd moments, where you catch yourself just staring!

My Mom spent the whole rest of the week trying to say the name of the spring correctly. It is properly said as “Kitchety-kippi,” but she comically didn’t say it that way! My Dad and I correcter her at first, but eventually we gave up and tried to stop grimacing each time she told yet another “perfect stranger” about our visits to “Kipi-Ippi” or something like that. I love my Mom! Never a dull moment with her…

Our 3rd stop on our driving tour was the Seul Choix Lighthouse near Gulliver. The Seul Choix Lighthouse (pronounced “Sis-schwa” meaning “only choice”) was already partially closed up when we arrived for our tour, but my Mom boldly approached the buildings and found one unlocked door and proceeded to get our group in for a quick FREE tour.

After finishing up our FREE adventures for the day, we headed to Manistique for dinner at the Wolf Den. This was one of several places we stopped that took “cash or check only.” This place was also a hotel, and I found it odd that they didn’t take credit cards at all. Hmmmm…

On the way back to our cabin, we stopped at the Manistique Harbor so that I could take pictures of the lighthouse and walk the boardwalk. It was another beautiful coastline.

Mel-icious UP Recap Part 1

I returned back home from the Upper Peninsula on Saturday the 16th, and so here we are NEARLY a month later, and I am finally giving a recap. It was quite a fun vacation! Here’s my Mel-icious recap…you know me, I have to give details!

Friday, September 8: My Aunt Peggy and I drove up to my parents’ home in Croswell. My Dad and I packed the car so we could get an early start the next morning.

Saturday, September 9: We left Croswell earlier than planned. Of course, we almost lost all the time we gained on our early start because we had to return back to the house to get my Mom’s purse. How does a woman forget her purse? I don’t get THAT! HA!

We arrived in Paradise, Michigan and found our rental cabin to be a bit under par. OK, the truth is that we pulled into the drive way, and I thought our cabin was the garage of the cabin next door. Not a good start to our relaxing week in the woods! HA! The cabin next door looked better, and I took photos of it just to say that it was the cabin we were “supposed to have” rather than what we got.

First of all, it was small. Really small! The kitchen, dining room and living room were all one room. There were 2 bedrooms as promised, and so that was a plus, but everything was really dusty and musty! It was obvious that there hadn’t been any one in there for a LONG time. We later found out from the rental lady that this cabin had only been rented one other time the whole summer. I KNOW WHY. I think she was doing the owner a favor by putting us in there. When we called to inquire about available cabins, I think she thought we sounded like suckers…HA!

Secondly, there was no hot water. We eventually got hot water late that night even though my Dad and I were praying that it wouldn’t get hot so that as promised the rental manager would move us to another cabin. But alas the water got hot, and so we stayed in the same cabin for the whole week. We also had to buy and change the fuse in the fuse box because the hot water kept going out. It was weird.

Thirdly, it was marketed as a “cottage with a small beach area.” AHEM! Believe me, it was an extremely small beach are, almost non-existent and the dock out to the water that was also advertised was rotten. Literally, my Dad stepped through the wood when he walked out on it. Plus, the end of the dock had collapsed and was leaning against the other part of the dock. It was sad. So, it was kind of difficult to get down to the water…you had to risk life and limb, if you will. HA! There were good things about the cabin, I guess, and eventually we got used to the quirks and odd set-up, and it became our “home” for 7 days!

Sunday, September 10: We visited the small Paradise Baptist church, where we (along with 7 other visitors) put the attendance up to 30. Population in the UP is sparse. There are bigger cities like St. Ignace, Sault Ste. Marie, Iron Mountain, etc. but mostly the UP is full of tiny little burgs that dot the peninsula, and Paradise is one of them. The people are friendly and kind, but they are definitely used to a different lifestyle.

After lunch, we drove to Tahquamenon Falls. It’s a family tradition to always visit the falls, and they were lovely as always. The tannic acid in the water keeps it the color of ice tea or root beer, and it foams just like root beer does when you pour it. It’s rather spectacular to see.