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Gin,Jo's World,Wine

Trashy Love Story, or… Why I Drink Wine and Not Gin

From the Facebook page Born & Raised in Maine, I saw this picture. It inspired me to share and write: “In Maine, it could happen, but for me… It was squirrels, thankfully.”

My friend Terry Mcnulty: When we used to camp at Lake Pillsbury, we would take our food and put it in a big rucksack and string it out on a high branch so the bears couldn’t get it. One night we heard a strange noise, like someone batting at a pinata. You guessed it; the bear was standing on our cooler, batting at our food bag. They are brilliant and so damn clever when it comes to getting food.

I responded: At first I thought, “Oh no,” before I read further. Then I remembered the third night of my first honeymoon (the second night was spent, sick after we killed a fifth of gin, and I’m surprised I didn’t die). The third night we did something much less dangerous. We went to the Greenville Dump, at Moosehead Lake, and watched the bears feeding. (Okay, that was also pretty dangerous, as well as stupid.)

Then I dug around to find a picture of bears feeding at the Greenville Dump. I knew one would have to exist, and I found more than enough. This one, above the others, really shows what people go there to see… The bear basics. I shared this one with my friends, which incredibly goes right back to my honeymoon days. It’s entitled: Winst1966 – Greenville Maine Dump Bears. (It may now be illegal to go watch the bears. Check with your travel agent or the town of Greenville.)

I wrote: Picture of the bears taken by someone.

And I gave the Web address, where I found the image for accuracy. It’s on the Panoramio site:

Carolyn Blakeslee: snort

Continuing with Terry: OMG, Jo. This made me laugh! A honeymoon at the dump watching the bears feeding on trash. So darn funny! “Trashy” love story.

And now you all now my trashy love story, and what turned me from gin into a life of wine.

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