Obama Day

It was Obama’s big day. I got up feeling great on the cold but sunny morning in Hungry Hallow. I had big plans to get up early, bike across town, and leisurely collect my ingredients roaming through the co-op. I got the props for being hardcore, riding the bike in January. It is a different way to ride when most of the road is a good 3 to 4 inches of slippery packed snow. Some guy in a fancy white jeep looking thing yelled at me as I slid through the streets nearing downtown. I couldn’t tell what he was saying. I was a little paranoid he might follow me and run me off the road and beat me down with a stick. He was probably just jealous because I was having more fun on my bike. I’m setting of the bike snob meter.

So after the co-op it was off to my friend Yammie’s to bake in honor of the new President. An hour and a half later, we had a giant cake of Nellie’s famous experimental survival food in the shape of a guitar, just in time to walk up the road to the Carnegie building, our community center to watch things like this grand inaugural speech. It is quite amazing. Obama has the flair that can get even the laziest mind interested in participating and serving our communities. Both sides of the fence have to agree, this is good.

To continue the celebration of a crisp sunny inaugural day, it was off for a skiing adventure.

A fox prances lazily across the iced-over bay. It’s a new land he has never seen before; a frozen tundra. He puts his ear to this new ground, listening for mice; the water beneath, splish splashing, below varying inches of ice-cover. “It’s a pretty sound” he thinks, “but not mice.”

He picks his head up and stands in a perky position facing the Petoskey direction. He stands there absorbing the bright afternoon sunset. Everything is covered in white, making a sunny day like today, one of the most bright brightnesses ever to be experienced. He relaxes and walks along his chosen tundra territory, sniffing at the cracks where the ice pushes together. He puts his head again to the ground, listening for mice,

“It’s a pretty sound,” he thinks, “but not mice.”