is there any more pie?

A little over a week ago Banjo Man and I flew out of Austin and eventually landed in Spokane, where Banjo Man’s sister and brother-in-law were waiting to take us to the lake.

We were so grateful. They had also done some Costco shopping for us, another reason to be grateful. And sister-in-law Nancy planned a weekend of meals.

This was very welcome news, as right now I’m about as capable of meal-planning, grocery shopping and cooking as I am at solving a Rubik’s Cube. Which is impossible, in case you are wondering.

We shopped in Clark Fork and bought fudge from a new store.

We talked about makeup.

Did some window shopping.

Moved a large log safely out of the way.

Watched the osprey.

I think a good time was had by all.

Did it feel like summer? No.

Did it feel like spring? No.

Chilly, cloudy, damp…but we didn’t care. It was good to be at the lake. It was good to be together. It was good to look out the windows and see mountains.

The forecast was for temperatures to hit 105 today, but now it is only (only?) going to reach 99.

Sounds good to me.

Banjo Man has been walking the two blocks to his favorite grocery store in the world every morning. I’m envious, as that much walking in 80+ degree heat is not what I should attempt right now.

We celebrated Mother’s Day at a favorite south Austin restaurant. The Funny Grandson ate his weight in chicken tenders and pancakes, as he has grown so much since Christmas. This grandmother was mightily impressed.

Everyone returned to their respective schools Monday morning and things have been quiet since. We haven’t minded these quiet days.

Our light travel system worked well, taking only two carry ons and not checking heavy bags. We mailed the extras to the lake on Friday.

Tomorrow is the FG’s band concert, then first thing Friday morning we fly out of Austin to head west for another glorious summer.

I can’t wait!

What is getting close? SUMMER!!!

We’re heading out of Rhode Island on Saturday. It’s time to go! My latest cancer scans and tests show some improvement due to the new medication, so we will be flying west with lighter hearts.

Yay for us!

First stop: Austin. The Funny Grandson’s final band concert is Thursday night and we really, really want to be there.

Second stop: Friday the 16th we land in Spokane. Are we now ready for the lake? Absolutely!

We are not driving across country this year, thank God. While I have loved our many, many road trips, I think we should save our energy for the lake and not spend ten days traveling 3000 miles. Traffic and weather are stressful and I think we’re over it.

At least I am.

This means some very conservative packing, as we are only taking carry-on luggage (small versions) filled with only what we need for our five days in Texas. Everything else will be mailed and because I couldn’t finish my 2025 lake quilt this spring (the sewing machine has still not been repaired) the two boxes will be small.

As you all know, this has been a very intense and miserable and frightening six months. We are ready for the lake and the mountains and family and friends.

See you all soon!

Yes, that’s the hole where my sewing machine should be. Sadly it is being repaired at the dealer’s. Even worse, their turnaround time is (gulp) four and a half weeks.

That takes me to the middle of May, when I won’t be in Rhode Island. So I begged them to fix it before May 8 or I would have to take the machine home and try again the fall. They said they would try.

What to do, what to do…

I cleaned my office (aka sewing room). I baked a coffeecake. Cleaned out my sock drawer. Organized two wire bins of medications and first aid supplies. Dug out summer clothes. Subscribed to Netflix. Went to the car wash. Filled two bags of clothes to donate. Cleaned out jars to donate. Sorted canning jars…to donate. I even went through my tablecloth collection and said goodbye to the ones I never use, like the slippery polyester varieties and the ratty old lace tablecloth I bought almost 55 years ago with a wedding gift certificate.

Banjo Man was very sad for me. He is not used to me pacing around. I like projects. I like keeping busy. I “stress sew” to keep from falling apart from whatever is going on, and you know there has been a lot going on. I don’t have a lot of energy these days, but I definitely need things to keep me busy. Driving and shopping and gallivanting have not been options.

Two friends offered to loan me their sewing machines, but I had to say no, thank you, because these machines were terribly heavy. No one should have hauled them to the house just because I was suffering quilting withdrawal. Over Easter dinner, another friend offered her portable Janome machine. And, after politely hesitating for about three seconds, I gratefully said, “Yes, yes, yes!!”

I have to admit, daily life is much more pleasant now that I am creating a red snowball quilt. It won’t be finished–not even close–before we leave for the lake, but I don’t care. I am working on 104 blocks and happy to stitch away whenever the mood strikes.

Banjo Man is happy for me and has stopped shooting me concerned looks.

But he sure liked the coffeecake.

I had all the best intentions this morning: create gluten-free whoopie pies for my little friend Sam, who is not so little anymore.

This sleepy little guy is now in 6th grade. Oh, my goodness.

Have I ever made whoopie pies before? No, but that did not stop me. Harley Chick loaned me a gluten-free cookbook and I ordered one of the ingredients, fancy gluten-free chocolate cake mix, on Amazon. It cost a small fortune, but nothing is too good for Sam’s birthday, right?

I followed the instructions very, very carefully (which I hadn’t done last Sunday while making oatmeal cookies for Banjo Man and they were barely edible, much to his disappointment).

Uh oh. They look a little…thin.

Yes, definitely too thin. These look very, very bad. I have not tasted one yet, as they are still cooling.

Plan B: I hauled out my cupcake pan and switched it up.

And it worked. I just took them out of the oven. The cupcakes aren’t exactly huge, but once I put some frosting on them, they will at least be festive, right?

I remain baffled as to what I did wrong.

Tuesday took us up to Providence for a doctor appointment (Banjo Man) and afterwards a birthday lunch for daughter Nancy.

Our favorite Italian restaurant is Andino’s, on Federal Hill. Time to celebrate! We ate our weight in pasta and then the waitress surprised Nancy with a birthday cannoli, which she shared. Yay!

We had parked a few blocks away, so on the way back to the car we stopped at our favorite Italian bakery for bread and pastry and a pear tart. I love pear tarts more than anything in the world and it has been years since I bought one at Scialo’s, a fixture on the Hill.

Be still my heart.

Another stop was at Venda Ravioli, an Italian grocery store of epic proportions.

Check out the olive section:

Banjo Man bought olive oil.

And then the day turned into a mystery. We crossed the main street, Atwell’s Avenue, and started to walk to the car, parked along a narrow, one-way side street. Banjo Man and Nancy were crossing the street to the car, but I was lagging behind a bit because in the middle of the sidewalk was a thick, black wallet. I stopped, stared and picked it up.

I told the others what I’d found and I took it to the car to see who it belonged to.

Nancy thought it might be an April Fool’s Day trick. I should have thought of that, I said. Too late, though. It wasn’t a bomb or filled with dog poop. It actually looked authentic, packed with credit cards, a bank card, an ID, a medical insurance card and over $400 in cash. There were at least five keys dangling from one side.

The owner was Christopher M., age 70, with white hair and a white beard (according to the photo on the ID). He lived in New York City, so there was no Providence address to deliver the wallet to.

What to do, what to do…

We googled his name to see if we could find a phone number. No luck.

We googled the closest police station. Since we had no idea how to get around the city, heading to the station was a bit intimidating unless we could think of something else to do.

So we waited. Waited for Christopher. Because, I pointed out, if he was a tourist enjoying an Italian lunch, he was eventually going to realize he was missing his wallet and would return the way he came to look for it.

So we sat in the car, windows rolled down, and studied every person that walked past (not that there were many). It was a warmish day, our bellies were full, no one had to go to the bathroom, and we had all the time in the world.

And since we didn’t know what else to do except go to the police, we thought waiting was the best plan.

Half an hour later a tall man in a long black coat walked slowly up the sidewalk. We stared, wondering if this was finally him. He looked older than 70, but there was no mistaking the white hair and beard.

“That’s him! Banjo Man grabbed the wallet and hopped out of the car. “Christopher?”

The man stopped and looked over at us. Clearly baffled as to how we knew his name.

“Have you lost something?” my excited husband asked, holding the wallet as he hurried across the street. The white-haired, bearded man looked shocked and relieved. Banjo Man handed him his wallet and he stared at it in disbelief.

“I didn’t know what to do,” Christopher confessed.

He couldn’t believe we had waited for him, couldn’t believe that everything in his wallet was still there. It turned out he wasn’t a tourist at all, but had had hip surgery recently and was walking for exercise. He admitted he has become forgetful. He tried to give Banjo Man money, but of course he kept refusing. It was quite a scene.

But we had done our good deed for the day. Maybe even for the year. And the three of us joyfully agreed that we love happy endings.

The party continued back at the house, with cupcakes and flowers and gifts. Definitely a birthday our daughter will never forget.