Today, four of us "girls" (I use the term loosely) are on a weekend jaunt to visit a friend who moved from the neighborhood about six months ago. Last month we set these plans in motion. A time schedule was determined, menus were discussed (we thought we would treat our friend) and a route selected in order for our group to meet at her log cabin, in Iowa, at noon.
After realizing two coolers, 4 bags, plus all the other paraphernalia could not fit in a regular SUV, we finally left in a van. Just think of the size of the trailer we would have needed if we had decided to stay longer than two days, or if we had decided to camp?
We arrived at the beautiful cabin just in time to drag in and set a wonderful, outside lunch for all of us. The weather is beautiful and we could not ask for better accommodations.
You would think that us neighbors would eventually run out of conversation topics. Not so, perhaps we are to the stage in our life when we have probably heard a number of these stories before, but simply can't remember. Getting older has a few benefits.
As I am writing this, I am sitting in the shade, on a veranda. There is a soft breeze blowing and a huge butterfly just perched itself by me. I can observe the geese swimming their little hearts out in the river/lake off the shoreline, just in front of me. The others have taken a boat ride to see the sites. I have declined because I'm not confident to make it down to the shore and then attempt to secure a spot in the boat. I weighed the consequences of a missed step, and decide I'm just "Jim Dandy" right where I am.
Some of you may be wondering what our spouses are doing back home, without us supervising. Well, we are too! Perhaps it's better for us not to know. On a normal day, the group of guys wait until about 4:30 before they find a reason to venture outside to the mailbox. Granted the mail sometimes does not show up until mid afternoon, but I finally figured out their sneaky pattern. The first guy has a secret beam he sends out, about that same time, to alert the others that it's time to meet in someone's driveway. They then give a wave to one another and jog home to retrieve a refreshment and ride over in their golf cart to keep the others company. (The golf cart is a necessity because that provides them with a comfortable seat.) They linger there until one of us girls reminds them how long they've been there. God only knows how long it will last without a call. Suppose I could still give him a call from Iowa, just to help them out.
Miss you Dear,