It Was The Best Of Weekends…

It was the worst of weekends. Just a symbolic title, folks, really. Somewhat traumatic is really the best way to describe it. I learned that sometimes you just have to take a leap of faith and things usually turn out okay.

It was our third camping weekend of the season and we, Ariel, Ingrid and I left the Lou Crew here working. I’d done that once before when I was meeting Ariel in New York when we saw the symphony at Carnegie Hall during the time the bathroom was being done. I had to make myself believe the house would be left locked up the way it should be with the alarm turned on…and it was. And it was this weekend as well. But being quite a distance further from home than New York kind of plays games with one’s mind, especially when that mind belongs to someone whose house has been vandalized. I’ve gotten better over the years but then again I’ve assembled an entire team of “babysitters” for my house when I’ll be away for an extended period. Long and short of it, we returned home early yesterday afternoon and to my relief, and then to my sense of foolishness, I found everything in order, just as I had asked it to be. Baby steps!

Believe it or not, it was a dry weekend. There was rain predicted for yesterday and with the use of The Weather Channel app on my Droid, saw there was to be rain beginning as a drizzle around 4 am and working its way up to frenzied thunderstorm status later in the afternoon, long after we planned to at least be on our way home. But the sun was peeking out from an otherwise dismal sky (we even detected a faint ticking of what could have been raindrops first thing around 7 am but wasn’t) and we packed up our stuff all dry as a bone.

It was a bit on the chilly side this weekend and we thought it would be the perfect time to put our Uni-Lazies to good use, but honestly, it wasn’t a painful chill, but one that was taken care of with a light long sleeve shirt or a windbreaker. Besides, I didn’t pack them. I hope we get to so I can send our promised ‘action shots’ of us wearing them by our fire pit to they people we bought them from. I better write to them and tell them we haven’t forgotten them, just haven’t needed to use them.

Pictures. I got pictures. There was a classic car show at camp this weekend and there were a few I really liked, even one newer car with every bell and whistle known to man, but the one I liked the most was this 1944 Pontiac.  I voted for it for first place but it came in second. In fact, we both voted for the top 2 cars, but my votes won in reverse. My third place pick, the souped up Saturn, came in third place, while Ariel’s third place was altogether different. 


We got home half dazed, sort of like in a trance-like state, somewhere between wanting to stay away and taking a nap, but knowing if we did that, that would be the end of it for the day. And then the final blow was that Fiddler, my 8 year old hermit crab was laying dead in his crabarium. He’d recently moved into a larger shell and seemed happy as a lark. And for some odd reason, he moved back into his old original shell and remained fairly motionless for several days. After I spritzed him with some water, he began to move around again and a day later had removed himself from his shell. And that’s how I found him, out of his shell.

And I have pictures 7 and 8 from the work on the house.



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