Folsom

Well, I finally moved all my stuff into storage. Moving your stuff into storage feels like like Moving Lite. All the hassles of moving out but none of the hassles of moving in. I actually like it a lot. Moving into a new place comes with an entirely new set of problems and anxieties that I’d rather not deal with at the moment. Thus, after sweeping, sneezing, mopping, sneezing, scrubbing and sneezing (obviously I’m allergic to cleaning), I’m finally out of town and on the road.

Well, I’m not really on the road. I’m away from my old home but I’m not driving anywhere. It’s labor day weekend and the last thing I wanted to do with our collective last hurrah of summer is spend it On the Road with every other fool in this nation so I decided to make a quick trip out to my aunt and uncle’s house and relax, take care of business and lay low for the holiday.

Yesterday (Monday) we decided to trick the crowds and made a late afternoon trip up to Wrights Lake in the Sierras. It’s an awesome spot. I'd give it two thumbs up but then I'd drop the camera in the lake.


Wrights Lake is home to many different critters and creatures. As I explored, I took pictures and gave the animals unique names. There were tons of ducks named Fred. Enjoy some duck butt!


And a bunch of noisy geese named Fred.


An old Heron named Fred practicing Thi-Chi on a rock in the middle of the lake. Every time I got close, he’d start doing a nutty one legged balancing act with his wings outstretched. He might have been practicing The Crane from the first Karate Kid or just ticked off at some jerk snapping pictures from a red kayak.


Finally, while paddling back to our neck of the woods I came upon this little bugger lying on his back in the middle of the lake. At first I thought it was a dead hummingbird (eh?) then upon closer inspection I thought it was a dead giant from the Carboniferous period but when I scooped him up with my paddle, he seemed to cling onto it for dear life. Alas, it was simply a really big and water logged dragonfly. I named him Fred.


He fluttered his wings a bit, threw up some water on my paddle and asked for a ride back to shore. I obliged.


Then spent some time nursing him back to health.


After a while he started to feel a bit better and went for a stroll along the top of the kayak but refused to fly away.


When I reached my hand down he eagerly jumped onto it. I wondered whether they would let me take him on the plane to Europe. I contemplated our future. I decided Fred and I would have a long and happy friendship.


Right after I took that picture, Fred the Dragonfly thanked me for my troubles and promptly jumped off my hand and did a back flop…right back into the lake. Apparently he ain’t all that impressed with his lot in life. Or he's really dumb. I rescued him (again) and decided that I didn’t want to tote Fred the Suicidal Dragonfly all the way to Eastern Europe. We said our goodbyes and parted amicably as I placed him on a stump by the side of the lake. Farewell Fred.

Overall, we all had a good (and chilly) time relaxing by the lake in the late afternoon sun. Books were read, jokes were told, strawberries were eaten and a sandwich was sat upon.


Today I’m pulling everything together here in Folsom (plane ticket, shopping, work, blogging, blah, blah, blah) then I’m off to Redwood National Park for a few days. That’s gonna’ be a pretty trip. I’ll tell you how it goes.