I’m in Marquette, on the Upper Peninsular of Michigan. It’s wonderful. If you don’t turn on the TV it’s possible to get through a whole day without hearing the name, Michael Jackson. Bliss!
The weather is terrific. While central Illinois steams in ninety degree heat, here the sun beams down generating a balmy seventy Fahrenheit, with nighttime temperatures dipping to a deliciously cool fifty degrees.
It was our intention to return home Saturday, but on Wednesday the car decided to shed its hydraulic clutch fluid everywhere and the garage can’t get the parts till next Monday, so we’re stranded with only a hastily-acquired rental car for company.
Darn it, I was so looking forward to that stifling Illinois heat again. Now, we’ll have to languish on the banks of Lake Superior, suffer sand in our chicken sandwiches, and quaff Chateauneuf-Du-Pape for a further three days.
Still, hopefully, by the time we do get back they’ll have buried Michael Jackson, in more ways than one.
Filed under: Wish you were here