I barely had time to breathe during a four-day Memorial weekend, let alone publish a post. But, as I let the chemicals turn gray to a lovely shade of dark mahogany brown, and before I visited mom and spent the beautiful blue-sky afternoon with girlfriends, I found time to begin this rambling story.
Natasha said to me on Sunday, “There’s always something to do,” and she’s right. Always. And I wonder how that happens to a single, sans children adult whose only mandatory commitments are to work and mom and making sure I have food in the refrigerator.
It’s my own fault. I want to do it all within a too-short time period, which means that I tend to forget about enjoying the moment. Monday morning, as I woke to the sun shining and birds vocalizing their pleasures, I started to worry about everything I wanted to accomplish in the next 14 hours. It made me anxious. Stupidly anxious. Memorial Day is a holiday in the U.S., one for remembering our fallen veterans and finding our own way to honor and celebrate. It’s not a day for worry. So, after my third cup of coffee and the realization that I didn’t have to do it all, I relaxed and made plans to visit mom and spend an afternoon with girlfriends at Waverly Beach (a local bar on the shores of Lake Winnebago), listening to a band, having adult refreshment and soaking up the sun at the edge of the tiki bar.
That all being said, I’d like to tell you about the rest of the weekend.
Sunday was flower planting day. I made the decision to stay home from church to get this project completed (I miss church once in a while to overcome the childhood Catholic guilt, bestowed upon me by my parents, over the fact that we could never miss Sunday church unless sick or dying or given a pass by the Pope). We had purchased our flowers on Friday, in between a gully-washing thunderstorm and on-and-off showers. It took us a good part of the day as we had to go to the storage unit to get the planting table, along with two runs for dirt (a/k/a “black gold” considering the cost), a couple of rest breaks and the act of tenderly removing plants from their temporary home and placing them into their permanent one. This is one of those projects that is tiring and makes my back hurt. In the end, however, the fruits of our labor are always smile-inducing.
On Saturday morning, I caught up with laundry and Natasha and I got ready to attend a birthday cookout at Red’s house. The day started out great with blue skies and intermittent clouds, but by the time we started a game of croquet, a rain storm appeared. No matter. By then we had already shared brats, hamburgers, campfire potatoes (in the oven), mixed fruit, beans, and adult beverage over a conversation of life, friends and the special, made-up-as-you-go rules of croquet. If you are wondering about the latter, player Danno received -50 cool points for talking too much and conspiring to make this into a game of Survivor Alliance Croquet. Lucky for him, the storm interrupted any chance he had for a comeback and win or additional subtraction of points.
As for Friday, this was my favorite 24 hours of the long weekend.
Have you ever spent a day with a friend, significant other or family member where the giggles and snorts and moments of witty comedic retorts never end? Yeah, Friday was one of those days. I’m not going to relate everything that was said as some moments are never the same unless you were there…much like the best joke ever, gone terribly wrong on the tongue of a bad story teller.
The day started innocently with sleeping in until 7:00 am, then traipsing out to the kitchen for coffee. Natasha was already up and we confirmed our plan to buy flowers for the patio later that morning. We headed out about 10:30 am, first making a trip to the storage unit to get our patio pots and boxes and miscellaneous planting items. It started to sprinkle while we were there and it was evident a very dark mass was headed our way. No matter, we were traveling in the opposite direction to the greenhouse and felt we could outrun the dark mass, buy plants, and escape.
We were wrong.
The heavens opened up while paying the bill inside the greenhouse. Naturally, I had left the umbrella in the car. The car was on the other side of a farm building, sitting on top of what would become a wide river from the rain. Natasha and I stood in the greenhouse for a while, listening to it thunder, catching an occasional glimpse of lightning, when Natasha said, “Let’s go. It’s just water.” I couldn’t argue with that since the lightning had stopped and humans do not melt or die from rain water on the skin. So, we calmly walked fast to the car, forged the river, placed plants in the vehicle and jumped in…totally soaked and somewhat chilled. Most normal people would say, “Let’s go home and put on dry clothes,” but we’re not normal. It’s what makes us good friends. Abnormal Star Trek nerds to the end.
We headed in the direction of home, giggling about our wet dog looks, hoping to stop at Free Market (an organic grocery store), when Natasha had a brilliant idea. “Let’s go to Riverside Florist first!” Well, okay, but Riverside is back that way (I made a pointing gesture), back in the direction we came from. Natasha didn’t remember the location of Riverside in correlation to our current position. Nevertheless, we headed in an easterly direction, backtracking somewhat to the next florist.
Only to find out they had moved.
Further east to the next town of Little Chute.
We kept going. East. To Little Chute. Crossing the county road that had taken us to the first greenhouse. That was funny.
We couldn’t seem to find the new location of Riverside Florist, so we stopped at a place called Reynebeau’s, which I determined on Monday is really Riverside. Confusing, to say the least. Anyhow, we found lobularia and nemesia and wandering verbena and declared our plant shopping completed. The giggles and comedy, however, did not end. We drove to several other places on Friday – Free Market, Costco, the regular grocery store, a second trip to the storage unit, etc. – spending quite a few hours in the car. We had plenty of time to talk stupid and some of it came on the back of a seriously bad commercial for weight loss. The weight loss program is called the KadileAtric Power Principle and Dr. Kadile himself tells anyone who would listen, “It’s not your fault, you’re fat.”
Honest to God.
Worst TV commercial ever.
Insulting, in my opinion.
Why not just tell me it’s not my fault I’m ugly or stupid? Really?
So…while wandering the frozen dessert aisle at Costco, Natasha found coconut bars that had nothing bad in them. No corn syrup solids or tons of sugar or artificial additives that kill. They looked good. We would have purchased them and split the cost except that the freezer at home is currently full. Maybe next time. As we walked away, I commented that the coconut bars could be a good thing or a bad thing.
“I don’t know why I gained five pounds. I’ve only been eating six coconut bars a day.”
Natasha thought the dry delivery was hysterical. Her retort, “It’s not my fault I’m fat!”
Yes, this is how the day went. Many dry deliveries, many smart aleck retorts. And, as we drove around for hours and hours – weaving to and fro, backwards and forwards, here and there, east and west – Natasha had another great comment.
“I think I have to poop.”
Natasha started to laugh. Then I started to laugh. Then tears from uncontrollable silliness. Our ribs started to hurt. I snorted.
We haven’t laughed like that in some time…perhaps when we last imbibed in chocolate martinis (the sugar is a laugh inducer; yes, it’s the sugar).
The day ended as almost every day ends…with our nighttime hour of a Star Trek episode. I know, it’s lame and we probably both need a life, although I’m not quite sure how much more of life we can fit in. There’s always something to do.
In a nutshell, it was a busy, productive, laugh-inducing weekend that is now a memory. I could have used another day off to sit around and do nothing, but that would have only put me farther behind at work. At least today I can sit as long as I want at my desk, working the Excel spreadsheets and catching up on emails.
How was your Memorial Day weekend, people? If you do not live in the U.S., let me know how you enjoyed your Saturday and Sunday. Did you have a “What? Again?” silly moment? Or a good laugh?