Nettleson, Australia  I'm in Australia on a bus with people I know. We go by moose, which I point out. We are coming up to a small town. The bus goes up a steep dirt hill. I'm not sure if we'll make it up, but we do. Terry, the bus driver we had in Australia, is the bus driver. He says we're making a stop. The town we're in is small. It's called Nettleson. I have been there before, with Niles and Tim Zelling, on our road trip. The area we stop at is very scenic: green, hilly, and lush. There is a small pond that has bass and carp in it that I start to feed blue chunks of something, maybe gum. I realize I don't have deodorant or a toothbrush.  I'm at home, about to leave for Australia. My sister Ramona, brother Wally, and my mom are there. I eat breakfast. I ask my mom if she'll pick the plums on my tree in two days. Something happens with big airplanes, Ramona, and the long trip. I'm in an old store. I try on two pairs of jeans. One pair costs $11.--, and I forget the price of the other. One is size 34x33, the other 32x34. I'm on a school bus. Either I or another person catches a model rocket in their hand as it shoots towards the bus. Kids are launching model rockets.