My guy wanted to go to the Saco River in Maine and canoe on a pack trip, so we did it. It rained from the moment we put our paddles in the asi asi dirty-ish water of the river. The last time I'd attempted to canoe down the Saco River was when I was 8 years old in 1969, and here I was years and years later ready to tackle her again, but I wished at that moment as we put the boats in the water, that Fred Ziel was with us. Of course he'd never be with us, seeing as I dated his younger brother years ago and caused quite a scene, but now all is well, I am married to an adventurous director named Lewis Hauser. So there we are going down the Saco River with a guide. It was rough going, but the rain was steady when we made camp, started dinner and put up our pup tents. By the time we had steak and potatoes going, it was pouring. In the end, around 3am, the rangers came and whisked us all away, canoes and all in station wagons and all terrain vehicles. But it was fun, the meal was good and for a split second as I nestled my body close to hubby's, I felt safe as if even God couldn't stop crying to ruin that close feeling to me and hubby and the earth.