Michigan, my Michigan, Pt I

“That ain’t no milishy! Lookit them black hats—it’s the Army of the Potomac!”

A tatted snowflake will be sent to the first person that knows what I’m talking about. No fair Googling.

(I couldn’t get a picture of this so had to grab one off the Net, hence the striking absence of snow).

Had a good visit, remarkably little bloodshed (despite one get-together that included in the guest list three boys under six and a very unlucky cat) although on New Year’s night I did have to get brother #3 on my cell and call him every name in the book from a parking lot off Sashabaw Road when I was southbound on I-75 at eleven pm in a blinding snowstorm and my trunk he had helpfully filled with packages and then slammed closed, popped open.

Spent New Year’s Eve in a shocking pink hotel near the Ford Proving Grounds. There were several noisy parties going on around me so I ordered copious amounts of Sam Adams and wings from room service and watched the Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers marathon that TCM kindly provided for my viewing pleasure. Got breakfast the next morning from Eastborne Market in Dearborn, along with a strawberry-rhubarb pie and handmade pita breads from Sophia’s Bakery on Michigan Avenue and a number of other goodies to take back with me. Had a Coney (the national dish of southeastern Michigan) for lunch and hiccupped onion for the rest of the afternoon.



Let’s see, what else… Drove from Dearborn to the tunnel and back and looked at the trees and the houses covered with snow. Had gyros and a “greek” for dinner. Met the newest nieces and nephew (I no longer keep count but I’m pretty sure we’re close to thirty right now which is what happens when a woman with six brothers and sisters marries a man with six brothers and sisters and three of the siblings mentioned are licensed foster parents). Drove by my alma mater and gave a resounding raspberry. Listened to a talk show host make excuses for the Lions. Avoided the RenCen.



Gosh I miss Detroit.