It's Sunday. Early. This is one of those perfect summer weekends where no one wants to let the day go, and we all stay up late into the night. This morning it's very quiet, even the birds are sleeping in. I can see from my bed, the sun rising over the lake, the mist is disappearing. Back in the day - John and I would be out in the boat now, listening to the loons, fishing for bass. In my case - northerns.
I woke up on Saturday at 4am in the city, packed the car and was heading up north at 430am. Got here about 730, and took a short nap. I went over to Mom and Dad's around noon. Dad was doing a whole lot better, and tinkered around with the little radio I bought him. He had shaved his head and Mom told him he looked like George Clooney. I think he looked better than George Clooney. He was listening to Click and Clack when I got there, and told me the previous caller was from Minnesota; a woman who said her husband checks the air pressure in the tires every time they go to Duluth and wants her to get out of the car when he does, and was it really necessary to. (They said not unless she weighs as much as the car.)
I mowed their lawn, and went back inside. Dad and I ate some lunch while Mom had a nap on the couch. The lunch was from canned cupboard food - chicken sandwiches, baked beans and chips, with root beer Mr Freezes for dessert. (By the way - as bad as canned chicken may sound - it was DELish compared to that actual farm-canned chicken in ball-jars that mom canned years ago and BROUGHT IT AS FOOD ON A VACATION WE TOOK WHEN WE WERE KIDS! On-vacation-food is fast food, restaurant food, and fun treats. It is not - and never will be - home-canned-soft-suspended there-basking in it's own juices-freaking-jar-canned-chicken. I can only remember one thing worse and that was a very large batch of home-made ketchup, which only tasted like ketchup in the slightest - oh wait- NOT AT ALL sense. It just made a hamburger feel sad...) Anyway, Dad hasn't eaten much for a week or so, and I was hungry from lawn mowing so it was more like a gourmet meal in our minds. I did up the few dishes and drove back to the cabin.
Suffice to say the weather was lovely, the kind of summer day you remember, you remember, in the bleak December. Ah... sighs and bliss and all that...
I am not a big Casino-r, but Mom was really wanting to get out, so after she got back from Mass (which is at 4pm in Hack, if anyone wants to fulfill their obligation before they get drunk on Saturday night, or whatever) she called me and asked if I wanted to go. She was going alone if I didn't want to - and the sad vision of that was about all the arm-twisting I needed. Showered, and ironed an outfit, and headed back out. The neighbors watched as they relaxed on their porch, they must wonder...
(Interruption in story - as I'm typing, I can hear some animal sound outside like a baby goat. I think it's unlikely there's a goat around, I'll have to check it out when I get up. Hmm...)
I went back over to Mom and Dad's and had dinner. Mom had made sloppy-joe's from Grandma's old recipe. They don't taste all that good, but the fun is in saying "This is Grandma's old sloppy-joe recipe from the root beer stand!" I also just like the name sloppy-joe. I wonder who came up with it? We could have just as easily been eating dribbly-bob's or messy-kens. Maybe I'll invent a recipe for the dribbly-bob. I'm kind of digging that name too.
Dad wasn't really up to going anywhere, so Mom and I drove off to the casino. Mom did the machine choosing, and I did the winning. Hah. It was fun. There was a powwow going on that I would have liked to check out more, but we didn't get a chance, what with meandering from one slot machine to another with a glazed look of temporary euphoria in our eyes.
We had fun. Everyone had fun. It was THAT kind of summer day.
