Dear Diary,
I have been hither and yon since last I wrote. How I do love visiting our loved ones, seeing their faces in person, having good conversations; it’s all a very sweet joy, especially spending time with the grandchildren. I hosted a Camper Party that was the Mother of All Camper Parties for our two oldest grandchildren (6 and 3). We told stories and had real tea and real cookies (Grandma usually doles out water and graham crackers and requires the guests to use their imagination). The laughter during our story telling time nearly rocked the camper. I let the young’uns pick four characters (stuffed animals) for each story out of the infamous Green Knapsack and off we went, improvising all the way. Ah, good times.
—- interruption for weather report! — As I was sitting here reminiscing and writing, I suddenly became aware of a terrific wind picking up. The trees are in a veritable frenzy out there! I don’t do a lot of jumping out of chairs anymore, but you should have seen me move. I turned off the water fountains and watched out the back door for a moment. “He bringeth forth the wind out of his treasuries.” That’s a phrase I’ve come across in the Bible and I must say, today’s the day for it, this very hour. Way off in the perennial garden I could see our wind spinner making a blur of itself. Quite exhilarating!
Back to our travels, it was a grand time. With the possible exception of being woken up in the middle of the night in our camper hearing a woman screeching at the top of her lungs looking for her lost cat. She and her group had been in the camper next to us and couldn’t find their cat before leaving earlier in the day. I’m all sympathy about wanting to find the cat, but sympathy dissolved into antipathy at the caterwauling that went on for 10 minutes or so. “FRIS-BEEEEEEE!” FRIS-BEEEEE! MEOW, MEOW, HERE, KITTY, KITTY!!!!” I do have a hard time being charitable at times like that. In retrospect, she’s given me an entertaining story to tell, which softens my heart.
As much as I enjoy the delights of travel, I am always thankful to get home, back to our comfy bed and our even more comfy routine. Even when I was all the way across the nation, I think the Sticky Chair was calling me.
Writing from the S.C.
Me.
I’ll probably go looking for this post in the morning, screeching at the top of my lungs.
Lynniebeemuseoday 