I'm leavin' on a jet plane....

October 25, 2015 - Sunday
32 degrees/clear/calm
Pentoga Road

I feel as though I may have risen from the dead, although the verdict might still be out. The bug that decided to call my body home while visiting on the East Coast sure kicked the poop right out of me.



For the most part, flying home was seamless. I tried to cough delicately, covering my mouth and nose each time, but there's only so many ways a person can disguise an erupting volcano. 

 I felt like a second class, third world, person when I ordered at Starbucks. Everyone else had six or eight names for their java mix. I said I wanted a plain, lowly, cup of coffee with nothing in it.

The first nose bleed began between Detroit and Minneapolis. I was coughing, sneezing, and my skin was prickly. I'm grateful the Ebola scare has ended or I'm certain I'd have been quarantined and deported to the Congo.

I spent almost all of the seven-hour layover in Minneapolis trying to find the furthest, secluded, place in the terminal so I wouldn't infect others. I was feverish, I had the chills, my nose was bleeding, and the coughing was nearly nonstop. I was ready to beg someone, anyone, to just put me out of my misery. On the last leg of my journey home, I found a seat in the rear of the plane, several rows removed from anyone else.

We landed in Rhinelander to let off passengers then sat on the tarmac and waited, then waited some more. Finally, the pilot announced the weather was too bad in Iron Mountain. The flight was cancelled and a bus would take us the rest of the way. 

I'm not sure which airport they were talking about as Sargie was waiting for me in Iron Mountain and said the weather was fine, as did several others who were waiting for their loved ones.

Yooper Brother Mark offered to come pick me up in Rhinelander. It would take him a bit over an hour. Sargie was on the opposite end in Iron Mountain and it would have taken at least her two hours, driving on dark, remote, country roads by herself. I took Mark up on his offer.

It was 1 AM before he dropped me off at home. How can a person ever repay that kind of friendship? On Pentoga Road, we refer to him as Saint Mark.

Sargie had to work Saturday. I got up long enough to see her off, then slept in my recliner until 1 PM. I awakened to see two deer grazing in the garden area on the wrong side of the fence. What?



Sure enough, a pole had broken, one that was due to be replaced before snow fell, causing the electric fencing to short out. 

I gathered the necessary tools and a new post and spent the next two hours replacing the old one. There's another one or two that are showing signs of rot and distress. 

All the leaves are brown and the sky is gray...

Sargie's off today. No doubt, we'll take our usual ride and I'd like to replace at least one of those two rotting fence posts. Other than that, I can already feel another nap coming on. I'm told sleep is the best cure for getting over this bug. Sleep equals a nap and napping is something I do well. 

After all, a man's work is never done.

So are the tales from Pentoga Road...

There's nothing like chicken soup to make one feel better. Sargie made this for me.