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   The not-so-dog days of summer begged a bike ride.  These last days before the fall piano schedule starts, and  AMNH obligations loom, need to be savored like that last piece of chocolate cake,  the last drop of water in the bottle on a hot summer day.  All Linda had to say was let’s go, and I was there.  Here’s a phone photo of Caulin and his friend Maggie, who braved a day on the trail with a couple of middle-aged fogies.  Maggie’s about to start college, and Caulin’s a high school senior.  Oh the places they’ll go…Thanks for the ride!

  We’ve driven by this place dozens and dozens of times, but haven’t stopped to walk around it until today.  This is the Last Encampment of the Continental Army–their last miserable camp, even with their wives and children.  

  The stones line the hut sites.  Sometimes folks dress in period garb and have ceremonies here.  There is a large bell in a bell tower, erected 200 years after the soldiers were freed to go home, at last, after the long war.  Randy rang it.  A lot.  I wonder how the neighbors liked it.  I did.  Huzzah!

  Happy Birthday to Dad.  He’s 89 years old today.  He’s doing pretty well, considering.  I look forward to seeing him next month.

Bear update:  It appears that we have not one, but several bears.  And I’ve yet to see even one.  There is a mama and cub, and at least one single bear.  The cub was last seen about a quarter of a mile from our house.  The single bear was last seen on the corner of Ahern and North.  The mama was in the backyard of a house on East Main.  Another bear was closer to the intersection of Ahern and 94.  Some kids on bikes chased the cub up a tree at Memorial Park.  Anyway, that’s what the guys at the local police station told me.  I talked to two geezers who saw two of the bears.  The local authorities have decided not to try to relocate them, because they just keep coming back.  The Village Bears. 

  Here’s Allan, age about 16 months, Christmas 1953.  You do the math.  He’s having a birthday on the 4th of this month.  Happy Birthday, Allan!  I think Mother put his clothes on backwards, but I’m not sure.

   September 2001, Oregon Coast bike ride.  Randy and Allan are either fixing a flat tire or doing the chicken dance.  I’m not sure which.  Maybe a little of both.  That was a fun day.  A fun ride.  Joyce and I leisurely rode up and down all day, chatting and ocean viewing.  Wanna do it again, Allan?  I do.  Three times is not enough.

   Randy, Joyce, and in the back, Allan.  Top of a very long and steep grade up Umpqua way.  When it’s foggy, this is surreal.  I limped in after everyone else on this climb, of course.  But I had the energy to take photos.

     Wish I was going there with Joyce this month.  She’s celebrating her birthday with a return visit, but I doubt she’s taking her bike.  Maybe.  Who would she giggle with, though? 

  More bears.  I’ve been walking in the morning at around 6:30 or so, most often to the Washingtonville cemetery and parts there around.  One of these days I’m going to see this bear. (Well, not this one in the photo.  That is a Yellowstone bear.)  The Village of Washingtonville (how redundant is that?) called again today to tell us all that bears had been sighted within 1/4-1/2 mile of our house.  This summer we’ve seen muskrats, many many deer, turkeys, ground hogs, rabbits, snappers, and who knows what else lurking in the swamp, but no bears.  Yet.  Wish me luck.

Congratulations, Bones, on surviving the BAR.  And the earthquake. 

Just talked to Nicholas.  I know–he’s in the middle of taking the California Bar Exam.  Seems that he was about ten minutes to the end of the first session when the earthquake hit.  Tiles falling from the ceiling.  He laughed out loud and then finished the question.  But I’ll bet it woke him up.  (He’s taking the test in Ontario, close to the epicenter.) Thanks, Nick, for calling the mom.  If you want more information on the quake, go here. 

Earlier this week we had a lot of rain.  One afternoon while I studied at the dining room table, Mia lounged about in front of me, and occasionally reached out for a nuzzle, a belly rub, and a good stretch.  As she stretched she spread her toes, and turned her head upside down, to change her point of view, I guess.  I stretched, too, and looked over at the piano.  The grand one.  That’s when I saw it.

The puddle of water.  Under the piano.  A very large puddle, maybe two feet across.  I can move pretty quickly when I want to.  I checked the piano–no water on top, no water on the ceiling high above, no water on the window sill next to it, no water around the window casing.  Mia?  Mia the fat cat had been asleep for hours in the same spot, next to me.  She’s extraordinarily fastidious about her catbox behavior, anyway.  I grabbed a towel and jumped under the piano, determined to find the source of the flood, and rescue my floor from the curse of the warp.  You can imagine my shock to see water flowing from the electrical outlet next to the piano.  Well, maybe shock is a poor word to use here. 

What to do?  By that time, the water was just a trickle, but I was so surprised that I didn’t really know what to do.  NOW I know that if it happens again, I need to quickly pull the breaker. At the time I figured, if we hadn’t had an arch, or explosion, or fire or whatever yet, we were ok.   But who knows if I’ll be home the next time it rains, or maybe we’ll be asleep?  Anyway, we’ve got a name of a guy.  I just hope we get this puzzle solved before it rains again.  We’ve got a theory on it. 

In the meantime, I’m letting the outlet dry out really well and playing the piano in the dark.

  Happy Birthday to Claire, who is three years old today.  Here she is with her favorite baby, Blue.  I don’t know why she named her Blue.  She just did.

   I’ve had a prickly day.  Few days, actually.  Lots of little obstacles, nothing major, just prickly.  I think Stibnite and I have a lot in common. 

       We took a little drive, this time up the Taconic, through the Berkshires, across Vermont and New Hampshire to Maine.  Fourth of July picnic time.  On the way, driving through Vermont, we came across (quite by accident) Brigham Young’s birthplace.   While driving along a little country road, we came upon this historical site sign:    Across from the sign was a little general store with a post office in it, too.  I went in and asked the storekeeper about Brigham, and he was happy to direct me up the road a few blocks, where Brigham was born.  The monument was under a tree, sort of.  The tombstone-looking monument says he was a man of Courage and Superb Equipment.  OK.  Then we motored on up to Maine, to the Beisel’s place.   Here is Claire running through the sprinkler in their backyard.      Noah didn’t really like his picture taken too much this trip, but he was too busy having water fun to care when I snapped this one.           I caught Claire having some babydoll fun in her bedroom.  She’s a good mama to her baby Blue.  We went to the beach on the 4th, but I left my camera home.  Craig spent about an hour and a half actually swimming in the ocean.  The water temperature was 63, I heard.  It was a fun day.  Later he used his new bbq grill for the first time, and we ate heartily before we took a walk in Baxter Woods.  We hope to go back in September for a bike ride.