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I was up in Negaunee for a couple of days for the inspection of the meadery by the State of Michigan Liquor Control -- we passed! Next, that inspector sends the paperwork to his boss, who looks it over and sends it to her boss, who looks everything over and writes a letter of recommendation to the Board of Liquor Control. We get a copy of the letter. Then the Board of Liquor Control votes and we have our state licence or not. We will know in 4-8 weeks.

Last Thursday I drove from Negaunee to Michigan City, and I worked on Friday. After work I set out for Lansing. I don't know exactly where I stopped; I didn't need gas but I was getting loopy and needed to stretch. Road hard and put away wet, as a friend used to say. I got out of my van-home and weaved into the gas station mini-mart. The guy working the place was young and neat, with a black turban and a cute goatee and waxed mustache. At the counter, I searched my wallet and then my scrub pockets for my credit card - nope. I looked sheepishly at the cashier and mumbled, "Left my money in the car - be right back." I'd picked up a orange sherbet push-pop and a pint of milk, so I left those on the counter while I went to look for my card -- not in the cubby by the front seat, not in the passenger seat where I sometimes toss it. I paused, thinking, and then reached over, pressed a button and popped open the back hatch. It was in the shorts I'd been wearing up in Negaunee.

Before going in, I lifted my toes and laid them on the edge of the back passenger tire, leaning into it and stretching my calves, one and then the other. I turned, and the cashier was there with my sherbet and milk, "Here, I will go run your card. You look so tired." I gave him a look, and he gave me one back. So I grinned and handed him my credit card.

I tossed my snack on the seat and did another set of calf stretches. After a moment he returned and handed me my card and the receipt. He paused. "I want to ask a favor." I nodded and he continued, "May I rub your neck and shoulders? You look so tired."

My eyebrows shot up and our eyes met. He smiled. "You remind me of my mother. She looked at people and saw them, you know?"

I grinned and gave him my back. He started with the back of my head, putting one palm on my forehead and digging his fingers into the muscles right above the first vertebra. Down my neck and across the shoulders twice, and down, pressing his thumbs into the long muscles that go down the spine. He took his time, circling his thumbs firmly in a tight spot below my scapulae. Then my hips, digging all of his fingers into the softness there, finding the muscles and where they attached the bone.

He paused and I stepped away and turned. His eyes were a soft brown. "That was good," I said. "Thank you."

He nodded. "Thank you. I miss my mom."

We waved to each other as I drove away.