Will helped us find an arrowhead, which was very exciting.
He also built a small campfire in the fire pit on the beach. Due to the fire danger restrictions, we’re not allowed to have anything bigger than a little flame, enough to cook hot dogs.
Ben, the Funny Grandson and Banjo Man joined us on the beach for a lunch of hot dogs and s’mores.
It was wonderful to have all the guys in the family here at one time. Here are Ben and the FG. Can you tell how much the kid loves his new shirt? And of course we are rooting for a successful season of Nebraska football.
We enjoyed a few campfires. Had a beach party with old friends. Went to the Peach Man and to Sweet Lou’s for the famous 60/40 burgers (which is now a tradition, I think, since we did that three weeks in a row).
There have been warm days, a couple of hot days and many cloudy and cool days. Ben tells me those cool days are just fine. My Texans don’t mind being away from the heat.
We still have two of our kids here, but the house is a bit too quiet without Ben and my grandson. They livened things up–in the best possible way.
We feel so lucky to have had such special family days.
Happy Father’s Day to all the fathers in my family, including my brother who became a grandfather for the first time!
Fathers and grandfathers are very important members of the family. And don’t we all know that!
Banjo Man will celebrate by helping me make mashed potatoes for the Funny Grandson’s favorite casserole, Shepherd’s Pie. Tomorrow son Ben and the FG arrive for three weeks of swimming, card games, cabin-camping and lots more.
I am ready with the traditional blueberry cake. And the FG’s traditional jump in the lake upon arrival is still going to happen despite the temperature of the water.
It’s always fun to hear him scream.
A very unexpected visitor trotted across the neighbor’s yard Wednesday night. He’d been having a drink on the beach when the neighbor drove up and frightened him away. What was it? An ELK. We still can’t believe it, though we spotted the elk with our very own eyes as we sat on the porch waiting for the sunset.
I’m sad to report that our osprey nest might be empty this year. I’ve seen a young eagle fishing close to our dock, though.
Here’s a photo of the tiniest fawn we’ve ever seen.
I call her “Mini Bambi”.
My garden-which I planted all by myself this year–is doing well. Imagine that!
Check out the baby peppers.
Son Will has been in Mallorca the past two weeks and is flying back to Texas today. He’s been visiting a longtime friend, someone he has cared about for twenty-nine years. She was a Spanish exchange student during his senior year in high school.
He’ll be here at the lake Saturday and I can’t wait to hear all about his trip.
Meanwhile, back at the lake, we’ve been very, very quiet. Banjo Man has spent several nights up at the cabin, which gives him great joy. I spend a lot of time resting and looking at the lake and the mountains. It’s beautiful and peaceful and everything I could ask for after such a tough winter.
As my Texans have finished school for the year and will be arriving here in the next few weeks, I am thinking about…food.
Dinners, to be precise.
What to do, what to do…
I am slowly getting more energy, which means I can put ribs in the oven to cook for 6 hours and I can put pork roasts in the crock pot to cook for 6 hours and I can jam chicken breasts into the crock pot to cook for 6 hours.
Pretty good, huh? I am quite proud of myself.
We will have ribs and pulled pork sandwiches and chicken broccoli casseroles before we play games on the screened porch and watch the sunset. Banjo Man is collecting pasta salad recipes and is anxious to try them.
It is so beautiful here. Some days are warmer than others. Some days are sunny, some not.
It’s all good. I take naps. And we go to bed early. After months of doctor appointments and tests, it is heavenly to stay home every day and look at the mountains.
The three hour flight from Providence to Tampa was spent watching the new Dylan movie on my Kindle, compliments of Southwest.
“A Complete Unknown” was absolutely wonderful.
From Searchlight: Set in the influential New York City music scene of the early 1960s, “A Complete Unknown” follows 19-year-old Minnesota musician Bob Dylan’s meteoric rise as a folk singer to concert halls and the top of the charts as his songs and his mystique become a worldwide sensation that culminates in his groundbreaking electric rock-and-roll performance at the Newport Folk Festival in 1965.
Let’s talk about the Newport Folk Festival in 1965. I was there, a fourteen-year old with my two friends and their mother. Yes, it was as historic as the movie portrayed. My grown sons think it was amazing and mpressive that I was there at such a musically historic event.
My claim to fame.
So…back to the movie…
Let’s talk about the Dylan songs. I couldn’t help but sing along. I tried not to but, well, it was impossible to be quiet. We sat near the wing so I hoped the engine noise drowned out my renditions of “Times They Are A Changin”,” but I really didn’t care. I had my earbuds in and couldn’t hear much.
Banjo Man had taken his hearing aids out and was sound asleep. It was the best plane ride ever.
Six days later, on the flight from Austin to Las Vegas, I watched the movie again. Or most of it, since the flight was shorter. Did I sing? Yes. Was the movie as fascinating? Yes. Am I going to watch it again? Yes.
If you are a child of the sixties, check it out. You won’t be sorry.
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.
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.
No road trip this year!!!!
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.
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.
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?
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!
My ravioli.
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.
is there any more pie? 