-Bill Hubbell
That's right, everyone; It's the HUBBELL OPEN!
|
"All the 'What Ifs' you've wrestled with for 354 days just called an Uber. They'll be at your door in (12) hours with a question: 'We're here. What the F**k are you going to do about it??'"
-Bill Hubbell That's right, everyone; It's the HUBBELL OPEN!
0 Comments
Years ago, I split a board I had in half and put up two shelves just deep enough for paperback books on my porch. I put them up near the ceiling, over the window to the kitchen, with just an inch of clearance. I put all my Louis L’Amour and PG Wodehouse book s up there. The only problem was that the original board wasn’t quite long enough to span the entire wall, so there was a gap of about 15 inches between the two shelves. Over the years, I’ve thought of different ways to bridge that gap but never bothered to do anything about it. When I painted the ceiling last week, I had to remove all the books to get at it and I decided it was time to replace the two shelves with one that actually fit. Radical, right? I went to Home Depot and bought a 10’X 6” board, which I trimmed to fit. Then I painted it so it would be interesting. I had to buy new brackets, too since the old ones had been painted to match the old shelves. I’m leaving the new brackets unpainted. Here's 18" of the nine foot shelf.
Looking at decorating magazines, or watching HGTV, I’m always struck by photos of shelves with knick knacks, photos or any tchotchke-like items placed artfully there. In my life, ‘shelf’ has always been synonymous with ‘book case’ and that’s what I use them for. It took me years to realize the answer to my silent query “where do they keep all their books?” was “they don’t have any books.” This revelation was as stunning to me as learning that most American’s still use outhouses would have been. I grew up in a house with a library. Strike that; our house had threedifferent rooms that could have been described as a library. A gorgeous, U-shaped room with walls lined with mahogany bookcases with leaded glass doors, each and every shelf crammed with books, each and every one of which my parents had read. Including the full set of the Book of Knowledge and The Encyclopedia Britannica. This was long before the internet made such collections obsolete. We used that library as a TV room, where the entire family used to cram onto the two chairs and couch to watch The Mary Tyler Moore Show and the Bob Newhart Show and every Olympiad together. Why we never moved the TV set to the much larger, much less used living room across the hall I don’t know. Maybe we liked watching TV on each other’s laps. In addition to the TV room, my parents bought three book cases that were four feet wide and six feet tall, to put in the upstairs hallway. In addition to a library, our giant Victorian had a huge, open space upstairs, surrounded by six bedrooms and a bathroom. The front end of it was what would probably be referred to as a sitting room or study space. We just called it the upstairs hall. Three four foot wide, six foot tall book cases that my Mom finished to match the dark red mahogany crown molding held as many books as we could cram into them. These included our full sets of Hardy Boys and Nancy Drew books but our favorites were the Betsy Tacy series and the Chip Hilton series, which belongs to my brother JP. We also had all the Winnie the Pooh books and no less than three sets of the Little House on the Prairie books. We didn’t like Laura Ingalls Wilder so much but Billy’s godparents gave him a full set three Christmases in a row. I don’t think he ever read them. Compared to the Betsy/Tacy books, they’re pretty damn dull. Oh, we also loved the Great Brain series. Then there was Dad’s office. It was a beautiful suite of rooms back behind the back stairs that had originally been the House Keeper’s rooms. The house was built during an era when people often employed live in help. For us, it was the perfect place for Dad to work. That’s right: I had a work at home Dad five decades before it became a thing. Dad was a journalist and his office, which consisted of two rooms and a full bathroom, was floor to ceiling papers, all the time. There was one built in bookcase, that equaled the beauty of the ones in the front library (TV room) but was finished in a dark oak stain, instead of red mahogany and the leaded glass windows were stained. He added a floor to ceiling set of shelves for copies of the Reader’s Digest, (which happened to be his employer) and he had a least two more free standing book cases packed with books he was either researching, reading for fun or proof reading for colleagues. Or all three. In addition to those three rooms, every one of our bedrooms were equipped with book cases, all of which were crammed with books and nearly every room in the house had books piled up in discreet corners because we couldn’t find anywhere else to keep them. My parent’s bedroom had two or three book cases in which they kept their favorite authors and the books they were currently reading. If we wanted to read Georgette Heyer, R.F. Delderfield, James Herriot, Tom Clancy or James Michener, that’s where we looked. We were supposed to put them back when we finished and I always did. In short, on any given day of my childhood, I feel perfectly safe in estimating that I shared a roof with at least 10,000 books. That doesn’t include magazines, of which my folks had at least ten subscriptions per month. Magazines are NOT books, no matter how glossy the pages. Oh, in addition to a free subscription to the Reader’s Digest, my folks got a copy of the Reader’s Digest condensed books every month. I count each of those as one book, even though each one contained four books between the covers. Now, my parents entire library could fit on one kindle but it’s not the same. Reading a book is a full sensory experience and reading a kindle is simply not. I have one and yes, it’s a wonderful way to bring several books on vacation without taking up any space but given my druthers, I’ll take a big, fat, hard cover or paperback any day of the week. I love the way a real book looks, feels and smells. I like being able to flip back to re-read a page, or flip ahead to see if I want to bother finishing it. I like my collection of book marks. A kindle is to a real book as a packet of vitamin powder is to a real meal. It may keep you alive but it doesn’t satisfy the soul. When my parents moved into their new place, they had to cull their collection of books and I took on that job. I wanted the book cases that once lined our upstairs hall. My house doesn’t have a room big enough for all three of those cases but I put two of them in the little bedroom that now houses the grandkids’ toys and porta cribs. My dream is to have floor to ceiling shelves built into my TV room, on either side of the fire place. Then, I could consolidate all the books I’ve got all over my house or…get more books!! Hahaha!! The smart money says I’ll get more books. It was a wet week.
For the third summer in a row, it hasn’t stopped raining. Perhaps we’d been in a drought and now we’re back to normal, I don’t know. All I know is in 2017, I tried to wait for a week without rain to paint my deck and I gave up in late July and painted it in the rain and then last year, I did it again. It was actually raining on me while I painted the deck. This year, I don’t want to waste my time. Jay’s been wanting me to touch up the spots that are worn but there’s no point: we haven’t had three days in a row without rain since it stopped snowing. Normally, by the third week of July, you can let your kids run around the baseball fields but this year, the ground is all swampy and wet. The grass is all growing out of mud. On Monday, Zack and I had plans to see a movie after his work. First, he had to pick up a rental car at the place down the street from me. Zack was about to make his yearly Parrothead pilgrimage and he wanted a more comfortable ride than his beat up old rig. His plan was to drive to Detroit, Cincinnati and Alpine Valley for the summer concerts. He did the same thing last year and ran into a few minor snags in the renting of a car. In the end, he managed to talk the guy behind the counter into letting him have the rental. This year, Not only did the rental go smooth as silk, the young man behind the counter took one look at his ID and asked “Jay your Dad?” On answering in the affirmative, the guy told Zack he’d played at DCTC. It’s a small world but it’s Jays; the rest of us just live in it. The movie we wanted to see was at a theater nearly halfway between our house and Zack’s apartment… Oh yeah, Zack moved out in June. I don’t know if I’d mentioned that before. He lives up near work now, with a guy he knows from work. He still comes over once in a while so I don’t miss him too much. Anyway… …since he’d be half way home at the theater, we decided to drive separately. That way, when the show was over, he wouldn’t have to come back here to get his car. First problem: trying to get to a 6:00 movie anywhere in the Twin Cities. Traffic is insane. Not that we have as many cars as say, Chicago, LA or NYC but construction is so bad that at least half the lanes in town, on and off the highway are closed. This is by design. If you doubt me let me add that in addition to construction everywhere, all summer long, bike lanes have been jammed onto all our main roads. Because what could be better than hundreds of miles of dedicated bike lanes? Biking on congested city streets, that’s what! Our overlords on the Met Council and the government of Minneapolis don’t bother hiding the fact that they really want to force us all out of our cars and into mass transit and if they have to make driving anywhere as unpleasant and time consuming as possible, that’s a small price to pay for Utopia, isn’t it? I don’t know how its going to work when a mom of three little kids needs to get groceries and furniture home from Target on her bike but if they can figure that out in rural China, we can certainly figure it out here, right? Especially when there’s six feet of snow on the ground and it’s -20 degrees. I’m sure the geniuses on the met council will figure that out. Rush hour on the highway near my house starts at noon. Since the citizens have so far refused to give up driving, the city is planning on closing some streets completely. It’s come to the attention of the city government that to avoid the congested main thoroughfares, plenty of drivers take side streets and the parkways. If you’re going to be stuck in traffic, at least in Minneapolis you can be stuck on some of the most beautiful city drives in the world. So of course, the city is planning to shut down the parkways to cars. They aren’t even bothering to pretend there’s any reason but to force drivers into the jam. This is life in Utopia: Conform or die. All of that is to say that Zack and I left forty minutes early, in separate cars, to get to a theater that should have taken ten minutes to get to. We might have made it to the movie but it started to rain. Then the rain got worse with every mile north we went. Traffic slowed to a creep. I think it took me twenty minutes to go a mile. Every yard north, the rain came down harder and visibility got worse. I could barely see the car in front of me. If Russell Crowe had passed me in an ark full of CGI animals, I wouldn’t have been surprised. I don’t answer my phone when I’m driving but since I was basically parked, I answered when Zack texted Are you there yet? I answered No. I’m stuck in traffic . Me too. He replied. I’m in bumper to bumper. This was horribly planned. We decided to bail. It took me another half hour to go six miles but I made it home in one piece. What’s the point of this story? Only that the traffic policies of Minneapolis, in their attempt to force us all into greener modes of transportation actually resulted in at least two people driving around town for an hour and winding up right back at home. Then there was a full, double rainbow over my back yard, just like Noah! Having missed the movie, Zack hit the road for Detroit, the first stop of his Buffett road trip. He texted us a photo of the rainbow that appeared over the stage Tuesday night. The rain stopped for awhile but when the heat came with the sunrise, the humidity went through the roof. It was in the 90s all week. It was sunny and sticky during the day and stormy at night. Jay and I walked around the lake every day this week. We tried to walk early, when it wasn’t too hot but on Friday, it was well over 90 by the time we walked and sticky as all get out. We brought a bottle of water with us and had a Yeti full of ice water waiting for us in the car. There was a hot wind blowing that actually felt pretty good. What makes the met council think they can stop us from driving when neither 90 degree heat nor -20 cold can keep us from walking around the lake? John G. turned 92 this last weekend. We’re not a family that is very good at planning; we tend to throw things together on a more spur of the moment format but the gatherings always tend to be great fun so maybe we’re actually really goodat planning. I don’t know. Last Tuesday, I got a text from Josie asking if there was going to be a party for Grandpa’s birthday. I immediately texted all my siblings, asking if anyone was planning anything. Katie M. volunteered her house, as the yard and deck were currently looking great. Her very large back yard is also completely fenced in, so it’s a good gathering place for lots of little kids. Her back yard is at least three times the size of mine and she lives right in the middle of us all so its just a very good location. Plus, she’s the closest to the lake, if anyone wants to take a walk. But, she warned us all, she couldn’t afford to feed this whole crew so food would be up to the rest of us. That’s more than fair; with a crowd like this, the host shouldn’t have to provide more than access to a bathroom. I offered to bake a cake and bring the fixin’s for root beer floats (Dad’s favorite.) I texted all my kids: McC’s house, Sunday, John G.s birthday dinner, 4:30, dessert at 5:30. Pot luck. They all enthusiastically responded that they would be there, great grand kids in tow. Then Katie M. sent a text saying it was not pot luck, just a dessert party. I ignored that and told all my kids to bring what ever they wanted to eat. Jay did a pan of wings and Mom did two giant racks of ribs. Then Katie M. sent a text changing the party from Sunday to Saturday, saying the forecast was for thunderstorms on Sunday. Turns out, I’d accidentally told my kids the party was on Saturday, so no harm; no foul. Unfortunately, all of Joe’s family was already booked on Saturday so they didn’t make the birthday party. Also, Ty and Megan had a wedding to attend but since they dropped all the grandkids with me, no one missed them. Actually, Ty and Megan did make an appearance at the birthday party, as Katie’s house is right on the route from the church, which is in Edina and the reception, which was two hours later, downtown. They just didn’t eat (much) at the party. Katie M had filled up a ten foot inflatable swimming pool, so all the little kids brought their suits. Tot, Xena, Babalouie and BoopityBoop were all seen doing cannonballs and slip-slides in the pool. Boop isn’t really into swimming right now but she was very into running around screaming and laughing at Babalouie and Tot. Bean, Nanners, Johnny and Charlie were too big and cool for the pool but had a corn hole tournament going on beside the pool. Jay had picked up a couple of pizzas to augment the pan of wings he’d cooked. He got a thick crust, cheese pizza because he knew it was Babalouie’s favorite. Babalouie was too busy swimming to eat any pizza when it first arrived. You know what happened next. When Babalouie finally came to get his pizza, it was all gone. Tears and recriminations! This was the day when Babalouie found his extended family to be not at all sympathetic to his plight. Even after getting no love from his parents or grandfather, he came crying to me, his Nana. I explained to him one of life’s most important lessons: You snooze, you lose. At this point, Xena, the best big sister ever, gave Babalouie the piece of cheese pizza she hadn’t bothered to finish. Everyone was happy. It was a grand birthday party and lasted until the mosquitos got to be too much even for 25% deet. I brought Xena, Babalouie and Kitten home with me while Ty and Megan went off to the wedding reception. Babalouie watched the Sandlot with Coach while Xena helped me feed Kitten and get her calmed down for the night. Kitten is going through a phase where she likes to cry for about 45 minutes before conking out for the night. She doesn’t pull that stunt with her mom but for the rest of us…look out! I was not intimidated. Sometimes babies like to cry for awhile. I could tell that Kitten was in no pain and nothing was wrong; she just felt like howling. It’s a baby thing. Before the crying started, she’d finished most of her bottle, had a dirty diaper and we’d played on the couch. I got her smiling quite a lot and even giggling a little. Next time, I intend to get a full blown laugh out of her. She was totally digging some of our games. Stretchy-touchy was her favorite. That’s the one where I take one hand and the opposite foot and gently stretch them out, then bring them together over her tummy. She thought that was a riot! I find few things in life more satisfying than getting an infant to laugh. After Kitten fell asleep, we put her on a blanket on the floor and Xena and I watched Toy Story. It was a good day. Sunday dawned very hot but clear. No hint of rain. Jay and I, exhausted from all the fun and hanging out with the kids, slept late. I didn’t wake up until 9:35! The Mass we usually attend starts at 9:30, so that was off the table. Instead, we went downtown to the Basilica of St. Mary, our favorite church in the metro, where we are actually members of the parish. The church is spectacularly beautiful and the music is always as good as possible, in a town packed with professional musicians. The Church’s big fundraiser, the Basilica Block Party, had taken place this weekend so the church property and surrounding streets were still covered with tents, booths and temporary fencing. I haven’t gone down to the Block Party in years but I fully support the event. Fr. Mike O’Connell may be laicized but his legacy has become legendary not only for the parish but for the city of Minneapolis! After Mass, Jay and I drove past the Bryant Bowl, which does good brunch. Jay said if there was a parking spot, we’d stop; if not, we’d go home and he’d cook. We got the spot right outside the front door! Same thing happened at Bunny’s last week. We’re on a roll! Brunch was fabulous. On the way home from that, I called Mom and asked what she and Dad had planned for the day. Joe and some of his boys were coming over for the afternoon, then they were going to go to Red Lobster for dinner, as Dad had been craving it all week. “Unless you have a better offer?” Mom said. “I do…” When we were growing up, my parents used to buy a half a cow from some friends who were farmers south of the cities. Mom used to take the roasts; pot roast, arm roast etc. and marinate them in Wishbone Italian dressing. When I say ‘marinate’, I mean she would drown the meat completely. Not a bit of meat would show beneath the bottles of dressing she’d pour over them. The meat would soak in the dressing for at least 4 days. Then she’d grill it up for us. You’ve never tasted anything more delicious in your life. I’m telling you: the first time any of us kids had actual ‘steak’, be it ribeye, sirloin or tenderloin, we were bitterly disappointed. This isn’t steak!! we all muttered. Decades later, I finally marinated a roast for Jay to grill. At his first bite, Zack said in amazement “Why don’t you always cook it like this??” Because I’m an idiot? I guess. When I told Mom I’d been marinating a roast since Wednesday, she told Dad and I could hear him yelling “Yes!yes!yes!” in the background. So we invited them over. I invited all our kids, too. Tyler and Katie declined, as they were all worn out from the busy weekend. Perfectly understandable. Zack dropped by to give John G. the card he’d forgotten to bring to the party the night before. Josie and her beaux did join us for dinner. This was the first time Dad had been over to our place since his fall. Jay was a bit concerned with how Dad would get up and down the two steps from our driveway to the deck and one more step into the house but I knew he could do it. With all the work he’s put in on the weight machines and physical therapy, I knew the steps up would be no problem and that with our help, getting down them again was well within Dad’s current ability. We all had a drink on the deck before dinner. It was ninety degrees and humid but felt comfortable enough in the shade on the deck, as long as you didn’t try to do anything silly. Like move. We did decide to eat in the house. The six of us polished off that roast like it was a piece of bacon. We also had salad, mashed potatoes, cucumbers in blue cheese and a baguette, so there was plenty of food. For dessert we had what was left of the cake from the night before and more root beer floats. I gave mom a tour of all the new plants on our newly landscaped front hill as Dad and Jay sat on the deck again. They were talking golf. As Mom and I rejoined them, Dad was telling Jay a tale from early in his career. Dad had worked on a story about Bobby Jones when Mr. Jones was an old legend and Dad was a young reporter. Although the article wound up getting spiked, Dad and Bobby Jones became friends. “The low, lost wind comes whispering, over the red clay hills It sings to me through Georgia pines, the song of remembered thrills They bring back ghosts from a vanished year—phantoms beyond all reach When Bobby Jones was the king of golf and Ty was the Georgia peach” Grantland Rice Dad had been an avid golfer from the age of 14 and he knew a lot of good golfers, including a classmate from high school who played for the state amateur championship and eventually qualified to play in some big time pro-am event which the legendary Mr. Jones was attending. By then, Bobby was confined to a wheelchair but Dad’s classmate was thrilled to be able to introduce himself to his lifelong hero. Mr. Jones shook his hand, then said “You’re from Minnesota? Do you happen to know my good friend, John Hubbell?” When Dad’s classmate returned to town, he told dad “My opinion of you has certainly gone up a few notches!” The next time you think the old guy sitting quietly in his wheelchair through dinner is just an old guy, remember that story. The old guys are usually the coolest guys. Happy Birthday, Dad! My mom had a lunch date with friends so my sister and I picked up Dad and took him out. He wasn’t hungry, so instead of getting lunch, we went down the Lake Harriet. We meant to go for a walk. Dad was walking and Katie was following with the wheelchair when it started to rain. We hadn’t gone far so we turned and sat under the shelter, where there are lots of tables for those who got dinner at the little restaurant on site, called Bread and Pickle.
Several of the lakes in town have such concession stands. Lakes Harriet, Calhoun and Nokomis all have them, as does the Minnehaha Falls. My favorite was the Tin Fish, at Lake Calhoun but just as the city (illegally, it turns out) changed the name of the lake, so they took away the lease from the owners of the Tin Fish. Last year, Lola on the Lake opened in its place. It served neither ice cream nor popcorn. No one mourned it when it burned to the ground during a thunderstorm early this spring. The story of a lightning strike only lasted until video footage of a couple lighting a hooka under the eaves of the building and accidentally lighting the place on fire was discovered. Now, there’s nothing left of the building and when I drive by, the shore of the lake looks so foreign sometimes I can’t remember where I am. I don’t like the food at Bread and Pickle but the ice cream is good, even if it is over-priced. I mean, you can’t really put a price on having ice cream at the lake with your Dad, can you? We sat at a table near the edge so we had an unobstructed view of the water. There was a sailing class coming in off the water because of the rain. We finished our ice cream and I went and got the car. Since we couldn’t walk; Dad can’t risk getting a cold, it would slow down his physical therapy, we decided to drive around the lakes instead. They’re beautiful in the rain. Dad pointed out all the different places around the lakes where he’d lived back in the very beginning of his career, before the Reader’s Digest. Then he pointed out the houses of several of his friends and one acquaintance who invited Dad and Mom to dinner in the hopes that Dad (a famous writer by then) would write an article about him. Dad did not write an article about the guy. It was a fun morning! I got home and put a second coat of paint on my porch ceiling. Oh yeah: I decided to paint my porch ceiling the same color as the walls in my kitchen. It’s a gorgeous soft pale teal called ‘watery’ by Sherwin Williams. It looks like a muted Caribbean green/blue. I started painting the porch ceiling the other evening and it was dark outside by the time I finished the first coat. I was a bit worried that it was too dark but when I looked at it this morning, I decided I love it. The porch is small, only about 10X12 but it took a long time to paint the ceiling, what with moving the furniture out of the way and throwing down a drop cloth. But it’s all done now and it looks fantastic. The sun came out while I was painting…then it rained again. Off and on, rain, then sun, all day long. Now, the sun is on it’s way down, there’s not a cloud in the sky and it’s perfectly gorgeous out. The one thing that has remained constant all afternoon is the breeze; it’s blown across the park and through the house, filling it with the fresh scent of rain. It’s wonderful! Oh for Heaven’s sake…another cloud bank just popped up over the western horizon. I think it’s going to rain again! I’ll sleep well tonight. Independence Day!!
Tank Parades and earthquakes; America is GRRRRREAT! Here it is, the 6thof July and I haven’t started any of my summer projects yet. I’ve been too busy with work, painting class, grandkids, watching the sunset from my front hill, drinking Manhattans, reading Daniel Silva books, getting a walk around the lake in as often as possible…Life is full, baby. Life is full. I haven’t even had time…wow. I forgot what I was going to write whileI was typing that. I’m not quite 60 yet but the senior moments are coming fast and furiously. Oh, I don’t mind. I think my brain is just undergoing some long overdue clearing out. Things that don’t matter are being deleted on an hourly basis. I mean, really; do I need to know the lyrics to every Monkees song? No, I do not. Nor do I need to remember every design I’ve come up with in the last 45 years. It would be nice to remember that I promised to babysit the grandkids in the morning but I was still here when they all showed up so no harm, no foul, right? In the last five days, I’ve spent four of them with various iterations of my grandies. Xena, Babalouie and Kitten spent Tuesday morning here. We went to the park and had a lovely time. It was sunny but too cool to swim and they hadn’t brought their suits anyway so we played on both the playgrounds and Kitten was fascinated by everything. The kids were a tad disappointed that Mom was coming to get them at noon. They wanted to come with me as I made my rounds and visited Grandma Punkin and John G. The grandkids love the Waters: there’s a billiards room, a fountain in the pond and a playground right across the street! Maybe next time, kids. Dad is getting frustrated with how long its taking him to regain some of his physical abilities. He can walk, slowly, for quite a ways with his walker, or holding a railing, provided he’s not over tired. My feeling is that at nearly 92 (his birthday is next week) a brisk stride should be the least of his concerns but if he wants me to help him walk once a week, I’m there. I totally understand why his hands are bothering him though. He told his OT that he wants to be able to type like he used to. When he broke his neck, his surgeon warned him that the fine motor skills would take the longest to return. Dr. T. said in a young person it would take a year and no one knew how long it would take for those nerves to rejuvenate in a nonagenarian because as a rule, “you old guys die when you take a fall like that.” Okay, I’m not quoting the doctor here, I’m quoting my brother. But that’s what the Dr. meant. It’s been 14 months since Dad fell and for a guy who could type 60+ words a minute and had done so for hours of every day for the last 70 years, I totally get how having the equivalent of paddles for hands would drive him crazy. So his OT has given him a new set of exercises that are designed to stimulate the nerves and build up the atrophied muscles in his hands. He’s come a very long way since last summer. In ’18, his hands really were paddles. He can now feed himself, help dress himself and when he does a cross word puzzle, you can tell what letters he’s making. He started on the cross words last fall, as soon as he could grip a pen but his motor skills were so poor, it looked like he’d been writing with an overcooked noodle. He complains that his penmanship is so bad but it’s better than mine, now. That’s not saying much. He used to have gorgeous handwriting. He will again. It’s just hard that it’s taking so long. I reminded him that when Joey got hit by a car, it was 7 years before he could play football again and Joe was only 11 when he broke his leg. Dad is nearly 9 times that age, he needs to be 9 times as patient. Joe was not patient; he turned into the meanest kid on earth during those seven years. I’m extremely thankful that the whole experience didn’t turn Joe into a psycho. Plenty of people would say that it did but sadly, the world still needs killers of Joe’s stripe (that would be American Military, like Chris Kyle). Anyway, Joe’s retired from all that. I told Dad to quit being such a baby. He laughed and agreed. I was relieved: I didn’t have to play the ‘Woody has chemo every day and doesn’t complain as much as you do’ card. But I had it ready. Nietzsche said that which doesn’t kill me makes me stronger. He meant character, of course. He had to know that sometimes that which doesn’t kill you leaves you crippled, pissed off and mostly dead. My Dad, at 90, already had a character of Iron. He didn’t need to work on that. Everybody gets to whine a little; sometimes things are really tough. But I don’t believe in letting them wallow; if you aren’t actually in a concentration camp, others have had it worse. I know this is very easy for me to say, since I’ve never suffered at all. I’ve never been sick, I’ve never lost a loved one, I’ve never broken a bone, lost a job, been dumped or had a cavity. I thank God every day for realizing that I’m too weak to handle any kind of adversity at all. Sometimes I wonder if God isn’t saving up something really hard for me…that’s why I’m working on grace. People don’t understand prayer or grace. I think they get the wrong idea that I think by praying I’m protecting my self from life. That’s not it at all. Prayer is not a magic spell that weaves a protective blanket around one’s life. Prayer produces grace, which does not protect us from misfortune at all: It gives us strength to ride out misfortune. My Dad has a character of Iron but more important, he’s got grace up the wazoo. What, do you think Padre Pio likedfighting the Devil every night?? It had to be exhausting! So that was Tuesday. Wednesday, Katie brought BoopityBoop over in the morning. It was hot and sunny and we brought the girls down to the pool at the park. We swam for about an hour. On top of all the other great things about having grandkids is that it gives me the perfect excuse to swim in the kiddie pool across the street. I know there’s no law against old folks lounging around a wading pool but it comes across as creepy when you don’t have kids in tow. After lunch, we put the girls down for naps. We had to set up the pack-n-plays in separate rooms or they just play and we really wanted them to sleep. Katie ran some errands and I got some work done. Boop slept for about an hour, then Coach got her up and they had some quality time together. Boopity woke up about an hour later and we all had a lovely time reading books until Katie returned. Thursday was the 4thof July. It dawned hot and steamy. I made a big pan of fudge krispies and got them in the freezer early. Then I worked for a few hours until it was time to pack the van and head to Tyler’s. It started raining just as we were pulling up to his place. They had all the fixin’s for a huge picnic party: tons of lawn games in their enormous back yard, a grill packed with brats and dogs of all descriptions, the new screened porch all set up for dining and the horses, goats and calves all ready for inspection. The rain came down in buckets. A half hour later, the sun came out, the clouds disappeared over the Easter horizon and it was the most glorious, hot, clear day imaginable! There were a lot of us; at least ten couples, most of whom had little kids. Josie and her beau, Nick came. Katie brought not only BoopityBoop but two of her friends from college who are visiting for the long weekend. I had brought along the movie Yankee Doodle Dandy, just in case we were stuck inside, but it was unnecessary. After a long hot afternoon of fun, fun, fun, some of us were ready to call it a party. Jay and I had no intention of sticking around till fireworks after dark. Josie and Nick also had other plans for evening. We played a bit of musical cars. Josie’s car isn’t running too well, so she parked hers at our house in town and drove Jay’s car to Tyler’s. Katie’s car isn’t really big enough for her, both girls’ car seats and her out of town guests. So we put the car seats in our mini van and let Katie take that. Josie drove Katie’s SUV back to town, parked it in front of our house and took her car to see fireworks. Jay and I drove his car back home. We arrived home about a half hour after Josie and Nick. Everything was running as smooth as silk. Jay and I mixed up some drinks and watched the sunset from our front hill. As I waited for Jay to join me, I noticed something sitting on the hood of Katie’s car. It was about eight inches across, round and dark. For the life of me, I couldn’t figure out what it was, so I walked down to the side walk. It was a small paper plate packed with fudge krispies. On the hood of the car. I took a picture of it and texted it to Josie with the caption “Finders Keepers!” She texted back “Damn it!!” I’ll bet they had big plans for those fudge krispies. Katie, the twins and her friends stayed at Ty’s till about 8:30, then drove (comfortably in my mini van) to downtown Minneapolis for fireworks from the historic Stone Arch Bridge. BoopityBoop had a fun forth but didn’t get to bed until after midnight, which was the fifth. The 5thof July is also my nephew Vince’s birthday. He’s 18, just graduated from St. Thomas Academy, having made it to State in Football and baseball, taking the State Title in baseball!! Not a bad way to finish up a high school career. Not bad at all. It’s also my niece Katelyn’s wedding anniversary. She and her husband are celebrating 5 years by buying a new house and having their first baby in a month. Happy Anniversary, Kate and Chad!! Oh, and the 4thwas also my nephew Wes’ birthday. We’re just getting started: July is Birthday Month in our family. Last night, I went up to Katie’s and stayed with BoopityBoop while the ladies went out for a nice dinner. I gave the girls waffles for dinner, a bath and after we watched Coco, they went to bed without a peep. Holidays wear out toddlers, too. One of these days, I need to paint the trim in my kitchen. I bought the paint last fall but I didn’t get it painted before the cold happened and I need to be able to paint with the windows open. Now’s the time, I just need to find the energy! Tomorrow will be another Pleasant Valley Sunday . I know that song is supposed to be a critique of the vapidness of middle class suburban life but if you haven’t tried it, don’t knock it. Only the very young or the incurably stupid think that life with no drama is a bad thing. I love summer. Anniversary Week June ended with pots of peonies. July began with a Thunderstorm. We started celebrating our wedding anniversary the minute we got home from the cabin. Katie had a day care snag that was fixed when I agreed to watch BoopityBoop on Thursday and to avoid making the whole family get up before the crack of dawn so as to drop the girls off here at my house before Katie had to be at work, I went up to their house and spent the night so as to be there when the girls woke up for breakfast. Left to their own sleep cycle, they don’t usually wake up till after 8:30 and by then, I was on my third cup of coffee. Anyway, all that meant was that I was not going to be drinking on our actual anniversary and that I would be abandoning Jay right after dinner. So Jay decided we’d just celebrate all week. I thought that sounded like a good plan! We had lovely dinners, with drinks out on the hill every night. It rained off and on during the week but it was usually nice as the sun set, even if we did have to towel off some chairs. Tuesday was perfect; the kind of day we dream about all winter when we dream of summer. We walked around the lake in the afternoon and visited the Wild Mind, a micro brewery in the neighborhood, as evening came on. We had one beer each (mine was delicious; tasted like red wine. I wish I could remember what it was) and played cribbage. I won. Jay had beaten me when we played at Loon Sh*t Bay, so I was due. We were trying to decide what to pick up for dinner when he got a text from our friend Pat, telling us there was always room for us at J.D. Hoyt’s, so we hopped on the freeway and went downtown. Hoyt’s is definitely our favorite place in town. We ate out on the back patio and it was simply glorious! A gentleman dining alone at the table next to ours asked us if we minded if he lit up a cigar. “Is it a good cigar?” we asked simultaneously. He assured us it was, so of course we had no issue with it. We chatted a bit with him as we all ate our dinners. As we were leaving, Jay introduced himself and wished him a good evening. He said (and I quote) “You’re Jay Pivec? Man, you’re a legend in this town!” That’s always fun to hear, even if you aren’t celebrating your anniversary. As we walked towards the back door of Hoyt’s, Jay caught a glimpse of someone familiar on the patio of the place next door; turned out some of his friends were eating there! We talked for a moment, then went out front to get our car from the valet. AS we waited, on the corner of Washington and 3rd, yet another card playing buddy of Jay’s came sauntering across the intersection! That’s Hoyt’s: always surrounded by friends! WE tried watching several movies during the week. Some were good, some not so good and a few we didn’t finish. We liked The Upside, with Kevin Hart and Bryan Cranston. It was funny, well done and we like both those actors. We didn’t like Hickock. It had some guys in it that we liked but the lead was terrible and it was shot in natural light which is never a good choice. It was also boring, which is really the only unforgivable sin in any form of entertainment. Thursday, I had a blast with BoopityBoop. It poured rain through the middle of the day but cleared up in the afternoon so we spent most of it outside. They played on their new swing set, drove their pink convertibles all over the yard and each of them brought baby dolls out to push around in their strollers. The only have one actual stroller, the other had to use a toy shopping cart. We all had a beautiful afternoon with the only tiny blot being the moment I realized Boop had crawled through the hole in the bottom of the door to the utility shed. I unlocked the door and ordered her back out of the spider filled dark shed into the sunshine. She obliged. I didn’t tell her but I was impressed by her bravery. I would neverhave had the guts to crawl through a broken door into a pitch dark shed! I still can't get over the fact that there are two of them. We had some exciting moments. Boop had had an accident while they were ‘taking a nap’ and while I was cleaning her up, Boopity used the potty and was so determined to dump the bowl into the toilet without any help that she dropped the whole thing right on the bath mat. No biggie, we got everything cleaned up and added the bath rug to the load of laundry we were going to have to do anyway. Potty training is never without its mishaps. On Friday, I rested. Saturday was a big family pool party at Jay’s brother’s house to celebrate Steve’s 70thbirthday. The timing was perfect, as it was the first really hot, humid day of the summer. The temps hit 90 and we all had a great time in the pool. Xena, Babalouie and Boopityboop were not perfectly sure about the pool when they first arrived at the party but when it was time to go we practically had to send for the Coast Guard to get them all out of the water. At one point in the afternoon, Xena yelled to everyone in the backyard “I wish WE had a pool like this!” I don’t want a pool but I do love knowing people who have one. It was a great party. We brought Xena, Babalouie and Kitten home with us. Megan was having a nice, kid free afternoon with a friend. They walked around Lake Harriet and came and got the kids around 8:30. I’m sure after spending nearly 5 hours in the pool the kids were sound asleep long before they got home. Kitten was a huge hit at the party; throw a newborn at a group of Grandmas and everyone is happy all day long. Sunday, Jay and I went to Bunnies for Brunch after church and we scored the parking place right next to the door! We figured it was our lucky day so we bought a handful of pulltabs. Turns out, our lucky day was getting that parking spot. And we got brunch a Bunnies; it doesn’t get much better than that. It was an overcast, very sticky day. We walked around the lake in the afternoon and ran into no less than five people we know. The sun came out just long enough to make a spectacular sunset, then a thunderstorm rolled in just after dark. I love sleeping through a thunderstorm! I did wake up in the middle of the night to discover that we’d lost our power. I think the fan over our bed, stopping, is what woke me up. I’m just glad we hadn’t turned on the air. I’d have hated waking up in a closed up house with no air conditioning. As it was, I turned toward the open window with the beautiful stormy breeze blowing on my face and fell sound asleep again. It was a great week. Pots of Peonies
|
Categories
All
|