Reflections on the Eleventh Week of Summer

      This week a white iris bloomed, and I enjoyed my children.

     Monday Ellen sent an enthusiastic email about meeting with her wedding cook, who jumped up and down and suggested a medieval-style meat carving station including smoked salmon, Cornish hens, and a whole pig with an apple in its mouth. I requested a slice of that apple. Tuesday we email-chatted about her birthday. And everyday, I numbed my butt machine quilting the stain glass blocks in row five of the quilt for her wedding. Drama ensued when a screw dropped onto the fabric in the middle of me quilting an Irish chain. I couldn't figure out where the screw went so drove the machine and walking foot to Fox's in Meadville. They popped open the walking foot cover, replaced the screw, and the machine quilted smoother than ever.

      Spencer Charles arrived Wednesday afternoon for a Wells Wood vacation. Emma, who'd cat-claimed him as her man, scurried to the door yelling mer-ows. I fetched the backgammon box. That started a run of a different game for each day–Ticket to Ride, Once Upon a Time, Gloom, and Yahtzee followed. For the last one we closed the guest room door early Sunday morning and rolled dice on the blanket so as not to wake Spence. We drank gallons of ice water and strategically placed three fans to blow the sultry air. Discussing story plots, engaging in marathon pie baking, walking along Deer Creek, and sitting in the dark on the porch listening to rain and crickets kept us busy.

I stored lots of memories.

Bonus Guest Blog for the Eleventh Week of Summer by Spencer Charles 

3:10 a.m.

I wander out into the great room. Dad, who has had a long, odd, two day stretch, is sleeping soundly and peacefully. Aw, I think. He deserves to get some good sleep.

But its 3am, and I am hungry so I sneak into the kitchen. Very quietly, I open the refrigerator door. Look back. All's asleep. Look around the fridge.

What's cold that doesn't need cooked? Oh, Dad started making potatoes last night! And, oh, kielbasi... and a little soy sauce... Hmm. Is there a small bowl to mix these up in? A small bowl that is not trapped in Mom's Pyramid of Dish Rack Doom (and Loud Crashy Noises) ...no. Wait, recycled Tupperware! Just as good! Okay, everything assembled... all the drawers opened and closed... Good, good. Now, just to cut this stuff up...

<Snorting, shifting noises suddenly drift over from the great room.>

What the hell just happened? I didn't make any noise there! Was it a...

Then, for no good reason, I feel compelled to look down. And there, looking as innocent as a Teamster, is a large, white and black cat.

George: Hi!

Me: Hi George.

George: So. What'ya doing?

Me: Go back to sleep George.

George: What'ya doing?

Me: I am making breakfast and you don't want any.

George: Ooh!

Me: You don't want any. It's potatoes and kielbasi.

George: That sounds great!

Me: You don't like potatoes, George.

George: Yeah!

<George is offered a bit of potato.>

George: Bleah!

Me: I told you

George: Where's that other thing?

Me: The kielbasi?

George: Yeah!

Me: You don't like that either George.

George: Oh, man! It sounds great!

<George is offered a piece of kielbasi.>

George: What the hell was that?

Me: It's meat George.

George: I don't think so. I like meat.

<A slight pause ensues as the remains of breakfast are diced on the cutting board.>

George: So, you got any cheese?