I spent the last couple of weeks strolling (with Grendel of course) along the roads and paths of Walloon Lake, Michigan. On Friday, Grendel knew it was the last walk—he kept going far ahead of me and had to meet all the dogs along the way. It’s a good thing the people are nice there and don’t mind so much when strangers walk around their yard screaming at their dog to “stop peeing on that tree and sniffing that dog’s behind and come now!”

I’ve been stressed and not sleeping a lot lately mostly due to being unemployed—but during my stay in Michigan I slept like a rock. There is a kind of peace and calm there that works like Prozac. I got to thinking during those walks about the senses, and beauty, and art, and found myself saying over and over again, “thank You God.”

As a marketing professional, I often work with designers to combine function and art. No one does this better than God. Think about it as you look at the natural world around you. Do you notice how everything has a specific function and purpose? And not only that, how its construction is perfect and beautiful? God is the ultimate engineer, architect, conductor, singer, mathematician, scientist, historian, storyteller, and artist. And the following is what my mind lingered on during those long walks under the canopy of trees with Grendel (when I wasn’t yelling at him to come back).

My eyes took in the vibrant, lush colors—the greens of the trees and grass, the blues of the sky and lake, the reds, yellows, purples, whites, pinks, and oranges of the flowers—and I thought how no canvas or paint could match the beauty that God creates.

My ears took in the caressing melodies around me—the birds singing, the waves lapping, the rustle of the trees, and even the soft cry of Gus the cat—and I thought how no symphony or chorus could match the sounds that God creates.

My nose took in the sweet smells of the country—the fresh, clean air and the aromas from the wild flowers (Grendel smelled everything else)—and I thought how wonderful God is to me and how nothing can match the bouquets that He creates.

My skin took in the comfort of nature—the warm embrace of the sun, the cool breeze off the lake, the softness of the grass under bare feet, and even the refreshing rain washing and cleansing the land—and I thought how God touches me in wonderful ways that are unmatched by anything else.

My tongue tasted the myriad flavors of the earth—fresh corn and vegetables from the local farms, fruit picked right from the tree, and the whitefish that came from the local lakes—and I thought how God provides for me, all the energy my body needs to sustain itself all wrapped up in yummy recipes.

The trip was really refreshing to my soul. So if anyone has a job for me where I could work from home on my computer, I will be forever grateful as I move into a small cabin in the woods and breathe the fresh air every day.

Fade back in to reality—Grendel is on a leash, the traffic is creating toxins around the beltway, and I’m putting on a suit for another interview in the city. Even so, thank You God for the break! Below are a few paintings by God.

I sometimes wonder if this is the type of thing that led to my recent employment status. Not that I would conduct myself this way, but how many managers out there are covering their behinds instead of trying to solve the problem? Do we have any innovators out there? Are there people who like to solve mysteries, puzzles, and master the new trends? I’m sure there are some. Let’s hope Dilbert’s boss is in a minority. Having said that, this strip is always fun to laugh at!

Dilbert.com

I love being an American. What other people can get away with going to another country and using their own currency to purchase things. Last week I crossed the border into Canada. I have to admit it was a bit difficult to remember I was in a foreign country until the boys in the hotel lobby started talkin aboot drivin the big trucks over the ice bridge next summer. (All I can say about that is at least they have jobs.)

Anyway, my parents and I decided we weren’t far enough north in Petoskey, MI, so we drove up through the Upper Peninsula and over the International Bridge (over the locks) and into Sault Ste. Marie, Ontario. For those of you who are geographically challenged, the Upper Peninsula is a whole other part of Michigan apart from the “hand.” The people who live there are called “Yoopers.” Ontario is a province in Canada (they call them provinces not states there—one of the many differences between our countries aside from national health care, their weird pronunciation of the vowel “o,” and a love of hockey). And, Sault Ste. Marie is pronounced “Soo Saint Marie.” There’s actually a Sault Ste. Marie in Michigan, too. Guess where it is.

While in “Soo” we visited the Bushplane Museum and the Sault Ste. Marie Museum, and took the Agawa Canyon tour train. The Agawa train was an all day adventure. We boarded first thing in the morning and rode the rails for four hours, 114 miles, into the beautiful scenic north. Once we arrived in the Agawa Canyon, we hiked around for awhile along a river and through the woods. It’s hard to believe we are in danger of not having enough trees on the planet when you visit such stunning places as this. It was so out of the main stream that the few people we did pass along the way had funny stuff outside their houses for our amusement and all waved at the train—I’m pretty sure we were the only people they ever got to see. After the ride home, we went over to the local casino where my dad and I won enough at the slots to pay for our dinner. (And that was Canadian money.)

On our way back to the Glenview Cottages (aka cute but crappy cabins in the middle of nowhere), we stopped at the Frontier Village. It was on the tourist map and I really wanted to see what it was. I was under the mistaken impression it was something akin to Jamestown Settlement where I visited the other week. Wrong. Big time. It consisted of a trading post (a sort of grocery store that also sold canoes), the Totem Pole (a cheesy tourist shop), an ice cream shop, and a fish and french fry stand. My dad made a funny when he noticed that the french fry stand was posting what we call in America, a “sign FAIL.” Right below the flashing neon “open” sign was a sign that said “sorry we’re closed.” Loving the tasteless tourist trap and inspiring my mom and dad to get involved in finding fodder for this blog, I made sure to walk around the entire place taking photos which I have posted below for your enjoyment. If you’re ever north of Sault Ste. Marie on the Great Northern Highway, make sure to stop in.

I do love Canada and its people. I even know the Canadian National Anthem and have been there about a dozen times including a trip to Saskatoon, Saskatchewan (I love saying that). I recommend a visit there to everyone—just make sure to bring your passport or the nice man at the border won’t let you back home. As much fun as those crazy Canucks are, it gets dang cold there in the winter.