All summer, I've been working on this farm that's just this older couple that opened up some acres. And I met them through like a gal that I buy my meats from, at -- from her ranch. She said that these people needed some help, and, uh, they're really nice, but they're just like, uh, doomsday preppers. Like, like think the rapture is coming type thing, and I don't know. It just feels kind of like a -- it just feels so ridiculous to me. You know, I'm talking to them, and we were talking about Helene, and she's like, "I just can't believe that the government would do this."And I'm like, "What?" And she was like, "Create these storms." And I'm -- and she was like, "Do you really think that they're, they're creating these storms big enough? Like, do you think they have that power?" And I was just like, "What? No. What --" I don't know, like, what's -- like -- [sigh]. Things are changing. The world is changing. Like, why is it so absurd to like, believe in climate change?

Also I noticed this morning on the news that they were talking about Bone Heads Barbecue in Ypsi being one of the most haunted places in lower Michigan, and I think it's kinda funny that they put that on there every year. But it is interesting to me that they do, because I've been there and I have seen the ghost. Well, I think I've seen the ghost. The -- one of the places that's supposed to be the most haunted in that house is the, uh, ladies room, and back in the 1980s when it was called, uh, something else, the restaurant had a different name, um, we went there for dinner. And, uh, I went to the ladies room and I was washing my hands. And I looked up and there was a lady in the mirror. But there was nobody else with me in the ladies room before, but there was a lady in the mirror and the lady was dressed in, like, turn of the century from the 1900s to -- from the 1800s to the 1900s, turn of the century clothes, which goes along with that building. And she was just there for a second and then she disappeared and that's all I -- and I do think that that place is probably haunted. It's always interesting to me because nobody ever stays in that ladies room very long. You go, you do what you gotta do, and you get out.

I have to tell you that I come from a family of whistlers. My mother was a prodigious whistler, that she whistled all the time, and I remember when you used to go shopping with her, you know, I was like in my 20s or something. I remember telling somebody I never had to worry about losing my mother because all I had to do was stop and listen for the whistling 'cause my mother whistles all the time. I know -- not loud, just a nice little, whistling a tune. And she whistled while she worked, she whistled while she was happy, she whistled when she was sad. She was just -- it was just she liked to whistle, and I also whistle. I whistle a lot, and I know that since my husband got hearing aids, he's not completely thrilled with the fact that I whistle. So I try to be careful about not whistling around him, but I like to whistle. It's, uh, something that keeps me company, I guess, and I like to have music around me.  And one thing about whistling with my mother. I remember that my sister lives on the other side of the country. She lives in Seattle, and she would come home and visit sometimes. And I remember one time when she came, she said, "What's wrong with Mom? She's not whistling." And it was like, "Oh my gosh, you're right. Mom doesn't whistle anymore." And I was, "I, I don't know. There is something wrong with her, I think."  And it turned out -- as it turned out, she had Alzheimer's. But that was one of the very first things that we noticed that were different. I had noticed some other things, but whistling. It was like when we realized that she wasn't whistling anymore, that it was sad. It was a very -- it was a deep sadness because whistling had been so much a part of her and our perception of our mother that when she no longer whistled, we knew we had lost something dear. And so anyway, that was my thing about whistling. I, uh, know that I’ll always remember my mom whistling and, and try to remember her that way rather than how she became as the disease progressed. And so even right now as I'm thinking about it, I can see her out in the…

And there was one summer, I spent the whole summer improvising, because I got a job as a summer camp counselor. And I thought this would be fun. I had worked with kids. I was good with kids. I hadn't been to summer camp before but we were gonna make this happen. I could do this. I show up at summer camp and they go, "Oh no, no, no, no. We do not need more counselors to sleep in cabins with kids and take them to arts and crafts and whatever. We need more people to take them backpacking and canoeing on three to five day trips." And I just stood there and looked and said, "What makes you think I know how to canoe or set up a tent?" And they said, "You'll be great. Don't worry about it." And then, a week later, I ended up in the woods. I hear this 10 year old camper screaming and crying. I turn around and there's a tick right on her arm. And this is the first tick I have ever seen in my entire life. And every part of my body wanted to also join her in screaming. But obviously I could not do that when I am ch- -- in charge of these children in the woods with their first tick. They cannot know it is my first tick. And instead I was very brave and I gave her a hug and I took the tick off 'cause it had been embedded. So I took a bit to calm her down and I got it off. And we talked about it. And afterwards it actually felt really good. Like I was calm after the initial quick second, because I had to be. And since, I've seen many adults encounter their first ticks and seen many adults be very not calm and collected and I'm very grateful that I saw my first tick in a time where I did have to fake it 'til I made it and then I did make it and it actually was much better because of it, so. Sometimes it works. There's a reason sometimes people improvise and also a reason that people just learn on the job.

And also while I was playing the accordion, we would go to Cedar Point, Ohio. They would have an international music festival down there where you’d go down and compete in front of judges. And I did that, and one of my memor- -- most memorable p- um, memories of that was that I had played my solo -- 'cause I did a duet, and I did a solo, and then I played with our orchestra. So I had several events. But during my solo, I got lost and I could not figure out how to get out of what I was doing and I'm playing my song -- 'cause you didn't have your music in front of you, of course, it was all memorized. And I'm sitting there right in front of a judge and then there's the audience behind the judge and I'm playing, and finally I remembered where I was in the music. And I finished my song and I thought, “Oh, man, did I blow that one.” And when it got all done, then the judge would critique the person who was playing for him in front of the whole audience and, and he gave me a number one rating, which I was totally shocked about. And, and he just kinda smiled at me and then he turned to the audience and he said, "I knew she was lost and she knew she was lost, but you didn't know you -- she was lost because she just kept on smiling and playing just like she knew what she was doing." So that was something that has always stuck with me is that just keep on keeping on and do the best you can, and eventually you'll find your way. And that really stuck with me over the years.

So we were -- I was somewhere with my mom and sister, and my mom ran into someone that she knew from a long time ago but hadn't seen in a while. And my mom had retired from teaching kindergarten. She probably knew her from school, probably at the time maybe six or seven years before we met this lady. And so the lady asked her, "Oh, you know, how are you enjoying retirement? You know, what do you, what do you do? Like, how do you, how do you spend your time?" And my mom goes, "I fiddle a lot." And the lady's eyes light up and she says, "Oh my gosh! I didn't know that you played." And she starts talking about how somebody that she knows or maybe even herself plays the fiddle and how she just had no idea that my, my mom played the fiddle and wow, could they -- you know, like, talking about where do you play? And should -- can we get together? And this whole thing, and my mom's standing there realizing that she's completely misunderstood. My mom fiddles, like she -- I dunno what the actual definition of fiddle is, but basically you, you aren't doing anything important, you're just fiddling around, you are -- I, I should look up what the actual definition of the word fiddle is, but you're, you're just sort of using up your time in, in some sort of way that, that doesn't really necessarily have any meaning or isn't really doing anything. So, my mom is standing there wondering as this, this woman continues to go on how she's gonna tell this woman that she doesn't actually play the fiddle, that she just fiddles around with things. So I, I don't even -- I think she did eventually have to tell her that she didn't play because I think this woman really wanted to, to get her out playing, you know, somewhere. So, that -- I -- we still laugh at that story because my mom continues to say all the time, "I -- man I can fiddle so well," you know like, "Man, I spent the whole afternoon fiddling." And yeah, not playing an instrument, though. That's for sure.

There's a story about pinto beans and my Uncle [Name]. Uncle [Name] had a buddy. And the buddy wanted Uncle [Name] to take care of his little dog. It was like a little pomeranian, fluff ball kind of dog and the man came over to my Uncle [Name’s] house with his little puff dog. And he had brought some chicken for my Uncle [Name] to boil up and feed the dog, and he brought some special treats and, oh, just things that a pampered pet would get. And the man told Uncle [Name] he's going to have to, you know, feed him the chicken because he won't eat anything else, and Uncle [Name] says, "Well, why don't you feed ‘em pinto beans? Like, most people down here feed their animals pinto beans -- or, their dogs anyway." And the guy said, "I tried getting her to eat pintos, but she won't eat ‘em. She only eats boiled chicken." And Uncle [Name] says, "I'll tell you what. She'll be eating pinto beans by the time you get back," and the man laughed at my Uncle [Name] and said, "Yeah, I'll believe that when I see it." Well, the man went off on his merry way. And three days later, he came back to pick up his little dog, and Uncle [Name] handed the man the chicken and all the treats and said, "We didn't need ‘em." And the man said, "You got the dog to eat pintos?" And Uncle [Name] was scooping out a pile of pintos for the dogs, and he says, "Well, come on, I'll show you." So he put the pot of pintos down in front of the dogs. And this little pomeranian, fluff ball devoured the pintos, devoured them. And the man was flabbergasted. "How in the world did you get my dog to eat pintos?" And Uncle [Name] looked at the man and said, "I aint fed ‘em since you left." There's a lesson to be learned there. Never say never.