the first weekend...

at the lake was nicer than I'd even hoped.



John and Dannell parked a trailer in the woods, a place where their family can go to escape the mayhem.

This morning I sent Kari to tell them the pancakes were ready. She sprinted in her bare feet in the cold, across the rough lawn and sticks at the edge of the woods to tell them, and then speeded back again.

In a minute, I saw the door open and t.c. emerge, carton of milk in his arms, grin across his face as he ran over the yard, and there was that surge of happiness in my chest that I feel every time I see the kid. I don't know why. He burst in the door, "Hi Gramma!" Oh, hi yourself. I love yous, Bud.

Breakfast was splendid, pancakes and sausage, Grandpa's most delicious fried egg sandwiches with cheese, strawberries and bagels...


This weekend, we had shrimp fried in the deep fat fryer at 11 pm, salads and hamburgers, cards, the game Fact or Crap, checkers, collages and play doh, Babies b.g. and l.c. to kiss...





Little l.c. loves Polly Pockets. They look like candy to him. I kept saying, "Not in your mouth," and pushing his hand away from his face. He'd look at the Polly Pockets in his hand like he got that, but what on earth are they for, if not to eat?

Well, I've wondered a lot of things when it comes to Polly Pockets. I admit it.

We watched The Princess Bride last night, that old favorite. We know all the lines, Sweet Buttercup and Wesley and, "My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die." And of course, "Mawwiage is what bwings us togethah too-day...Wuvvv, Trooo Wuuv..."


The dock was put in, an electrical line run... the wind was cold off the lake, but the sun was warm in the backyard.


okay, this bawdy conversation is not repeatable

And then we had to come home.

We had a friend with us this weekend, a family friend Kari's age. He fits in like family. I forget he's even there. He had a stuffed animal along that looked like a cat. "No, not a cat. A MEER-cat." Okay, then. (Oh, he's cute, especially in that fedora.) He had a terribly bad woodtick I had to pull of his shoulder. (Gah! The woodticks were fierce. We hate them.)


When his mom came to pick him up tonight, she asked if he'd had a good weekend. He said, "Yeah. Until YOU had to come and RUIN it." She laughed. I mean, really. It's Sunday night. It's totally not her fault. No matter how you slice it, the weekend is over.

Onward to Monday. love, Val