Silver Bay

Would it be fair to call Minnesota's piece of Lake Superior's North Shore, "The Beak of Minnesota?" It is, of course, a political beak. I canae even imagine the lake, herself, recognizing any of the political boundaries which create the image of a bird's beak on my road atlas. Whatever words you ply to this tourist attraction, it isnae the most car-friendly neighborhood I have ever navigated. Part of its draw? Not to worry. . . There is plenty of evidence that Progress is in progress.

As I adventured my way in circles through the forest service roads yesterday, I was tempted to set up camp in the Superior National Forest when. . . Yup, you guessed it. . . Here come the rain. Oh well. I wasnae well provisioned for camp, anyway. The thunderstorms continued sporadically through the night.

Lack of focus is one of my strictly personal psycho nag flags. I've been saluting it with lots of therapy exercises. I could wish for an accountabilibuddy to provide some checks and balances for my grading scale, but remote checks, my support dog and the occassional interaction with strangers are what I have to work with today. The recurrent thought is that I am in a phase of letting go. In order to transition into a new phase, I must let go of habits and expectations from the old phase. Which ones? There is the rub. Proverbially speaking, don't wanna throw the baby out with the bath water. I donae want a new life. *Just* trying to sort what is next in my current life.

I sit this morning at a working stiff's motel from the 50's at the intersection of the scenic North Shore drive which I-35 turns into in North Duluth and a winding road westward, toward the Mississippi Headwaters. My guess is that the motel was built to accomodate workers for the taconite mining concern here at this intersection. My energy levels are still lagging, again, but so far the energy has been holding steady after I nudge myself to start the truck and put him in gear.

Again, we see what the day has in store.