When this old world is getting you down — but how can it be?
Hot, hot, hot here in Sandpoint. It was hot as soon as I awakened and got out on my deck to look at the lake. Too hot to get up. I went to the guest room, a very small room with just one double bed and a few sticks of furniture. But it looks up at the Selkirks and also is right next to Mister Buffett’s trains. On almost any day, you can look out of the window from the bed and see fleecy clouds. The sky is a pure blue. No smog at all.
The clouds remind me of the clouds that Ferris Bueller was looking at on the day when he decided to take the day off. They are powerfully relaxing.
I lay there for a while contemplating my fears —usually about money, especially about running out of money before Alex and I die. These fears have become especially powerful as I have grown older. My shrink says they are a metaphor for fears of death. Maybe so, but they are deeply frightening anyway. Suicide. Then I think, “Suicide because you have too many homes? Are you crazy?” Do not answer, dear diary. You know me too well.
I got up, made breakfast for Alex and me — the usual, scrambled eggs, English muffins, OJ, Tazo Refresh herbal tea, one of the many great gifts from my sister (she also told me about Hill’s Resort in Priest Lake many years ago).
I got dressed and went out for a ride on my mighty Cannondale bike all around the town. I especially love riding around City Beach. At this time of year, it’s packed with visitors, especially high schoolers from the area and some parents and some very young kids.
A stunningly beautiful little girl came walking past me holding an ice cream confection that looked as if it had about ten different kinds of ice cream, all different, cheery colors.
I went to the ice cream/refreshment stand to see what the ice cream could be. At just that moment, the girl with the ice cream appeared, possibly to get a refill.
Truth to tell, I don’t recall exactly what she looked like but I do remember that the ice cream had some blue in it like the blue in her eyes. I wished I had my camera with me. Her perfect little face next to that ice cream would have been good.
“What’s in that?” I asked the woman behind the counter, who gamely tried to reconstruct it.
“How old are you?” I asked the little girl.
“This is so cool,” she said breathlessly. “I’m talking to Ben Stein and he’s a celebrity. I’m almost twelve.” I think she said that. I really wasn’t paying attention. She might have said she was almost sixteen. I just don’t remember.
I asked her what her name was. “Jackie,” she said. “Jackie Sweet.” She was simply adorable. I wish I could live long enough to make a movie about what happens to someone that beautiful in North Idaho post 2012. I hope lots of good things.
Back home to pay bills (an excruciating process), and take a long nap. Then out on the boat with Tim Farmin and Alex to have some spectacularly good Bottle Bay Burgers. A Bottle Bay Burger, which you can ONLY get at Bottle Bay, about a ten-minute boat ride from our marina at The Seasons, is a hamburger with cheddar cheese and chutney. It is heavenly.
We looked out at two frisky English Springer Spaniels that kept jumping into the water and eventually got on a paddle board with a boy and balanced themselves perfectly. This is a peaceful scene and I wish it stayed warm all year in North Idaho so we could go to it all year, but it does not stay at all warm after summer and Bottle Bay Resort is closed anyway.
(In North Idaho, a resort is not like The Greenbrier. It can be a very small café and a few rooms to rent.)