It is hard to believe, but I am actually going to sit down and write a bit. I have my cup of tea by my side -- the cup is a big, black 20 ounce treasure from the Museum of the Rockies in Bozeman, Montana. It's a great place to visit if you're in the area -- especially if dinosaurs are your thing. The tea is "Organic Peachy Green" by Tazo. I am happy it is "organic," because an inorganic tea doesn't sound very palatable. The Tazo connoisseurs say this tea has a "hint of cucumber," but I'm not buying it. Still, it is pretty tasty.

No, I have not stopped drinking coffee; far from it, actually. Throughout the morning, I've had two pots of Sunrise Blend from New Hill Coffee Roasters. My friend, Kevin, is the owner/operator of New Hill and he roasts and blends fantastic coffee.

This date, February 28, is earmarked in my life and it might be why I was moved to write today. My father died on this day back in 1997. I held his hand when he slipped away. I've always been thankful I was with him when he took his last breath. I will never know if he knew I was there, but I am glad he wasn't alone. Twenty-nine years ago feels like yesterday, but at the same time it feels like a lifetime ago.

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So what have I been doing? Working, mostly. I usually have a day off during the week and then embrace these precious weekends. I've been watching lots of basketball lately; I always do in February and March. It isn't nearly as entertaining and interesting as football, but it is better than most things on television. 

I am also reading (almost done) a fantastic novel, The Blind Assassin by Margaret Atwood. It was a Christmas gift from my daughter who picked it up at a used book store (she knows I love those kinds of gifts). Atwood, of course, is most famous for The Handmaid's Tale, which presently sits atop my desk, part of my lengthy "To Read" list. If it is half as good as The Blind Assassin, I will be happy. She's an awesome writer.

Well, the days are getting longer. That's a positive. This time of year I am always looking for something positive, because this is an ugly time of year. The snow has become a flagrant gray-black, as if its very existence is meant to be offensive. The trees are barren skeletons. The few pock marks of bare ground are dreary and dead. The sky is concrete on most days. On good days, the temperatures rise above freezing for a short time, then the world becomes a skating rink at night. Rinse and repeat. Day after day. 

Oh, and there's dog shit everywhere.

I guess this is called "spring fever," right?

And, as any Minnesotan knows, winter isn't over. My dad used to say we always get a snowstorm right around the boys state basketball tournament. And you know what? He was right every time. I suspect the same will be true this year.

[editor's note: my last post waaay back in July 2025 was about the Amelia Earhart plane wreckage and the Purdue University expedition to Nikumaroro where the mysterious Taraia Object is located. I mentioned there was something very odd on the northwestern shore, which was nowhere close to the infamous satellite imagery that many researchers think is Earhart's plane. 

As it turns out, this is actually a shipwreck of the SS Norwich City, which foundered there in 1929. So, my eyes didn't deceive me; it really was something man-made, just not an airplane. Mystery solved.

By the way, this expedition, originally slated for November 2025, has been postponed until later in 2026.]