I am exhausted on a number of levels, physically,
spiritually, and certainly emotionally after trying, once again, to cram way
too much fun into a single weekend. I blame my friends and my family as the
main culprits in arriving to this situation; happily (except for the whole
physical aspect, which was the most predictable), needless to say. It all started
on Friday night after a spirited First Friday Family Facetime call. My Favorite
Panamanian and the Neighborhood Mafioso had conspired during their various shopping
expeditions over the past week for a Friday night dancing expedition.
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| The Fabulous Moms Yesterday |
We returned to the Auburn VFW club event
room, where we were joined by another couple of friends, which featured a lively
crowd sporting a wedding reception and some sort of anniversary party. The band
was old enough to make us feel like teenagers but they were actually pretty
good. The dance floor was crowded all night and we had a fantastic time. The
wait staff was obviously undermanned for the number of people but it was a short
walk to the bar and a couple well placed tips insured a steady flow of Coors
Lite all night. I’m not sure my Favorite Panamanian was exceedingly pleased
with my initiative in that area. As the night wound down we stepped over the
adjacent VFW bar which had a karaoke night going. I was truly impressed with
all of the singers, including the Mafioso’s husband who delivered a memorable performance.
I maintained my lifelong ban on myself for public singing so the night was not
ruined.
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| Wife and I Friday Night |
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| Attempted Group Shot of Our Table |
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| Better Effort |
Saturday promised the arrival of my son
and his family but first we took delivery of our yearly supply of garden mulch,
4 yards worth. Yes, it was the annual mulch day. Usually this means a solid two
days of back breaking transfer of the pile via wheelbarrow to my wife’s vast
garden complex. The Mother’s Day holiday saved me for that (for a while) but I
moved a out half the pile to the gardens before they arrived. We needed the
space in the driveway for them to park. I got all the gardens except the back
yard terraces covered. Obviously, those terraces are the long pole in the
proverbial tent.
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| The Dreaded Mulch Pile Arrives |
As soon as they arrived, the BRS and BR3
immediately set about transferring every toy stored in the basement granddaughter
toy storage area up to the living room and Deckzilla. I don’t understand this
semi-primordial need but they all do it as soon as they arrive. Many of the
toys aren’t played with again during their stay but it’s ankle busting availability
is apparently important. They are so much fun to have around and lend the needed
decibel increase to the household sound environment. The BRS had decreed, through
the ABFA, that a fire and S’mores were needed following dinner.
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| Have Wanted to Use this Cartoon for a Long Time |
The ABFA had given me a heads up about that
request so I spent part of Saturday morning foraging in the woods behind the house
to produce enough firewood. It turns out senior citizen knees aren’t totally up
to the task of breaking branches into smaller pieces. It developed that it
probably wasn’t a good idea to inject that amount of sugary substances into the
two granddaughters shortly before they were going to bed. An added factor was
that this marked the first time we were attempting to have BR3 join the BRS in
the granddaughter room for the night. It was not a resounding success. The parents
and my Favorite Panamanian were called upon to make repeated trips to the girls’
room as they refused to even consider the possibility to going to sleep.
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| BR3 and BRS on Deckzilla, ABFA Behind |
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| Deckzilla Al Fresco Dining |
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| Grampa with the Fire Bugs |
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| Wife Totally S'Mored |
My son joined me for an abbreviated
movie night in the Man Cave but went to bed early, expecting an oh dark thirty morning
wakeup from his sleep averse daughters combined with a Mother’s Day meaning
moms were slated to sleep in. He was prescient as he had to get up at 5:30am
with his energetic progeny. I found them safely ensconced in the Man Cave when
I eventually got up. We all displaced to the kitchen to prepare Mother’s Day
breakfast. My son was called upon to make the expected hojaldras for his daughters.
This is usually my wife’s duty but she was prohibited from the kitchen
yesterday. My son produced, in my opinion, a reasonable substitute but admitted
he doesn’t know how his mom achieves the sliver thin dough which marks her
efforts. The BRS quit after only eating one hojaldra, well short of her usual
consumption rate, which indicated abuela’s exalted status as the sun center of
hojaldra creation is safe. My son opined it was probably a good thing because
if the girls felt their dad was capable of quality hojaldras, they would demand
it all the time.
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| Birthday Girl got a Bear |
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| Then Found a Disguise |
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| Cooler Sunday morning Brought Dining Inside |
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| BR3 Loves her Dad |
My son and I spent the rest of the morning
and early afternoon prepping a Mother’s Day turkey dinner. We’ve established a
good work routine based on our Christmas dinner experiences. While we engaged
with that, the ABFA’s parents and Great Aunt arrived which reduced the frequency
of the granddaughter kitchen intrusions. The dinner turned out fairly well and
the granddaughters joined the adults at the big table with only minor spillage
issues. We hope we adequately honored the fabulous mothers our family is
blessed with.
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| BR3 Helped Set up the Table |
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| ABFA's Mom and Dad, the Wife, with BR3, Son with BRS |
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| ABFA and Great Aunt |
Sunday was also BR3’s third birthday which
will be properly celebrated next weekend but we couldn’t let the day pass
without some notice. She was very proud of the attention and bravely attempted,
mostly unsuccessfully, to display three fingers to show she knew how old she
was. It was truly Spockian to see her attempts. We had an ice cream cake which
was a big hit with both granddaughters. The adults weren’t displeased either. I
was happy when the mothers gathered, post dinner, at the table to talk while the
guys cleaned up the usual aftermath of our kitchen efforts. These type conversations
amongst family are to be cherished and I vicariously enjoyed the laughs and
talk going on in the next room. My son directed the Celtics game 7 playoff be
turned on. We watched a competitive first half together with my son planning on
departing at half time, hoping to catch the final couple minutes at his home.
The birthday girl had other ideas however. The lack of sleep from the night
before as well as dodging her usual afternoon nap caught up with her. She crawled
into her dad’s lap and promptly fell deep asleep despite all the noise going on
around her.
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| Ice Cream Cake! |
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| BRS Prepared Special Cards for her Grandmothers |
This allowed my son to stay long enough
to see the beginning of the Celtics second half surge as they destroyed the
76ers and their pampered superstars. That was sweet. Less savory was the departure
of all our guests in short order. The usual jolt of separation when favorite
people leave was as impactful as usual. Still, both my wife and I were fully
exhausted. We watched the end of the game together. A great Mother’s Day where the
moms were afforded their proper honor.
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| The BR3 Collapse |
I re-learned the lesson that my body is
not as young as it used to be. The Friday night dancing produced a sore foot
while the mulch pile as well as granddaughter activities sapped energy levels.
I now know why senior citizens hobble around. I was into serious hobbling this
morning. In the immortal words of Mr. Gump, “I am not a smart man”, as I still
went to the pool this morning for my swim workout followed by a half hour on the
bike. I followed this with the intention of attacking the rest of the mulch
pile before my Favorite Panamanian decreed I first had to remove last year’s
mulch from the terrace gardens. That was a lot of fun as I had to lug it up the
hill to dispose of it. Combine that with a requirement to repair the
wheelbarrow halfway through, meant the pile was safe for the day. I admitted to
my wife at 4:30 this afternoon that I had run out of gas. A good night’s sleep
will mean the pile dies tomorrow.
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RECURRING CHARACTERS:
ABFA – Amazing Best Family
Athlete - my daughter
in law; BR3 – Blog Reader #3 – granddaughter
#3; BRS - Blog Reader the Sequel -
second granddaughter; Cantankerous Friend – friend since grade school who likes to argue
about everything, poses as radical leftist to attract women; CRC - Connecticut
Riverboat Captain – another close friend from high school, renowned sailor
of the big river; Curbside Girls – close
friends of my daughter acquired during him her single days in Brooklyn; Deckzilla – our backyard deck which
grew to monstrous dimensions once my wife got involved in planning; Favorite Panamanian - the wife (of
course); FBR - First Blog Reader -
first granddaughter; First Friday –
celebrations to mark the First Friday of the Week; Great Aunt - my elder sister; Keene
Friends 1 & 2 – friends since high school from my home town of Keene,
NH; Kindergarten Friend – friend
since kindergarten whom I reunited with after many years; Maine and Virginia Musqueteras – two close friends of my wife –
her US sisters, my wife is the 3rd Musquetera (musketeer); Namesake Nephew –
son of Great Aunt and Soxfather named after me; Neighborhood Mafioso - wife's close friend and Panamanian mafia
member; PanaGals – female relatives /friends
of my wife from Panama; Panamanian/Latin
Mafia – inevitable group of Latino friends my wife accumulates wherever we
have lived & their spouses; PCR - Pittsburgh College Roommate– high
school friend, also a “Minor Celebrity” in Pittsburgh; PCR+1 - Pittsburgh College Roommate’s wife; Riggins - also known as the
Grandpuppy, son's dog; Soxfather -
my brother in law; Tia Loca – wife’s younger sister; Wingman – my son in law; Wingmom – Wingman’s mom, of course
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