It’s your birthday!


Happy birthday Dena!

We took a train to Dover, (Live Free or fucking Die) New Hampshire, bussed to Portsmouth, then we walked to Maine…

That was cool.


A New England interlude ensued, including a freezing cold snap, some rain, and another cold snap which put glass-clear coatings on every twig and berry and branch.

I (Dena) put on all my new smartwool and omniheat gear and we wandered far and wide.  From a wide-open non-war-making submarine tour to the epic walk looking for a birthday meal, we tromped around town with pink cheeks and bright eyes.


The walk to Maine took us across a bridge, an island, and another bridge.  The second showed us this strange sight – the burned-out husk of a nuclear sub set on fire by a guy who just wanted some time off.

They put the $400 million repair on his tab and sent him to jail for the rest of his life.

The restaurant on the other side is a classic NE joint.  Except they also have the largest salad bar in Maine.  It was big, but not, like, Texas big.  The seafood rocked, the potatoes comforted, and I had hot Indian pudding for the first time.  Cornmeal, molasses, spices, yumyumyum.

We also walked along a highway marked no pedestrians (ha! take that!) and scrambled up a steep overpass hill with a broken down fence.  And punted the remains of every rotten snow pile along our route.


Upon our return, there was a little snow.

Some layering up for warmth.


And a little getting paid for my writing.  So many gifts!




  1. I noticed you didn’t say exactly how much the “little” you got paid for writing was. But what the hell, most of us have never been pain one dollar for writing so maybe how much isn’t the point.
    Merry and Happy to both of you, you know, Merry Life and Happy Days.

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