Ben the Bear

This past weekend I went to Lake Panorama, up by Panora, Iowa.  Eight girls (dammit, we can still call ourselves "girls" as long as we want) gathered to drink beer and cheap wine, waterski as though we still mean it and gossip about ourselves until we were blue in the face.  We also made food our husbands wouldn't eat, compared toes and discussed the pros and cons of breast augmentation and reduction, depending on who was speaking at the time.

When we went to leave, my friend S. told us not to forget to stop and feed the bear.  Yes, there is a bear named Ben who lives about five miles outside Panora.  At first we were up in arms for Ben, but it turns out he was purchased by someone who discovered him at auction, clawless and needing the protection of a kind soul.  Ben has a silo, a bear run and a cave made from a tin shed.  He's a full-size cinnamon brown bear.  He's about as tall as me.  We fed him blueberries, which he licked with a huge, pink, curled up tongue.  I was afraid at first (his teeth were as long as my index finger), but my friend L. the vegan so fearlessly stuck her hand up there I would've been chicken not to follow (see what kind of peer pressure Girls' Weekend can do to you?).  Anyway, Ben was really nice. I have never seen a real bear up close before.  He was gorgeous.