Author: Rene

First of all, this is the second edition of the blog. The first I accidentally deleted, thus inspiring me to even greater heights of creativity!

It was a glorious weekend beginning with our arrival in Steamboat Springs on Friday. The first congregation met at the property of friends who provided a fantastic safari-like experience with alfresco dining and trekking through the wilderness. To top it off, they ordered the beautiful moonrise over the mountains.

Saturday morning dawned with other friends hosting us at their beautiful home. We had a spread to rival the best in European bed and breakfast establishments. And the view? It is stunning from their dining hall window. The top of this next photo shows a black line, which is the trim around the window…I couldn’t even get the entire scene in my frame.

After filling our bellies, we did the ”divide and conquer” routine. Each couple chose their fun while our hosts prepared the cenatory event for the evening. My spouse and I, along with our moonrise specialist friend, decided to test the ”all-terrainness” of our ATVs. It was a glorious afternoon of challenging and beautiful riding. Mother Nature did not disappoint. The weather cooperated fully, and we returned dust-laden and happy, ready for the evening feast.

The annual get-together at our hosts is referred to as the Viking Dinner Extravaganza. Friends enjoy a sit-down dinner in the atmosphere of conviviality. We properly celebrated the Norse heritage with our stories, laughter, memories, and toasts. The dining hall resounded with joyfulness.

Aside from the misplaced canvas bag, (Who left that there? Moi?) this partial photo gives you a glimpse into the glory of our experience. We return with fuel to take us to the end of summer, begin anew our ordinary days, and look forward to future reunions. Thank you to the SB crew for the fabulous experiences.

Song is effective and can also result in unintended consequences. Apparently I had a habit of singing at the dinner table. It was so irksome, my father made me eat a meal in the bathroom. I’m fairly certain I was of high school age, so ”knowing better” was an option.

In spite of the exile, I do recommend bursting into song whenever appropriate, humorous, thoughtful, or required. Today’s song in my morning brain was, ”One Headlight,” by the Wallflowers. My waking playlists are never very inspiring. I need to work on that.

Usually it feels that way after the holiday weekend – time to regroup and think ahead to the fall season. However, the phrase took on a new meaning with the arrival of my little charge yesterday and today. She is opening and closing doors. I can no longer sequester her from outside temptations.

When I was a young girl, a particular episode at my grandmother’s was to become a hero for such a one as my granddaughter. A little cousin had locked himself in the bathroom and the only way in was through a window onto the washer and dryer. Either I was the only kid around or I was volunteered to be the ”squeezer through” and release the prisoner.

Thankfully we have doorstops which prevent this new skill from being applied. For now.

Labor Day takes on a few meanings around here. 31 years ago I informed my doctor that I needed a baby by Labor Day since my parents would be visiting. Since I was already a week overdue, she agreed and we celebrated the labor that weekend.

The past 33 years have also been a ”labor of love,” as we married on this weekend. And of course, we do celebrate this weekend each year with yard work in preparation for winter. We found the chainsaw!

Out of curiosity and an abundance of sneezing, I researched the number of calories burned in a sneeze. Ever hopeful, the answer stunned me. Two. Maybe.

Now I will beg to differ that my louder than a sonic boom sneezes burn only two calories! They are a total physical involvement. Neck strain, stomach doubling over, foot stomping, head bobbing. They are lovingly inherited from my father, with a sneeze that could clear the room. Nothing petite or pretty here.

Anyway, it’s allergy season and this year the ragweed blooms quite unchecked. And sneezing is not an exercise option for weight loss.

Inevitably, the tool needed is not residing in our workshop. Thus, I am heading out to chop the tree with a handsaw. (Not really.)

I do have some labor on the plate and the weather is conducive to finishing it by noon. Thus, a bad pun for the day. Enjoy your weekend.

That is the song running through my brain as I prepare to paint. A fresh can of miracle concealer always engenders that joy of a new journey. I assume that’s how the song popped into the tangled web up there?

After that, I am anticipating the removal of a dead tree, always a favored activity for the Labor Day weekend. That is a true statement. Many a time we have trimmed or removed dead trees on this particular weekend of the year. It seems fitting to ”clean up” before winter. Thus, painting, trimming, and then enjoying a BBQ.

Hopefully my husband reads this and fires up the chainsaw.

My husband won the Bogey League Championship for 2022. Pride bursteth forth. (Not a real word at all.)

Truly, he is a good golfer and he deserved recognition. The best part was the cash prize which restored my pocketbook’s tender after the reunion payment of BYGO. (By the way, ”pocketbook” has not been in my jargon, but spending time with Easterners has made me appreciate the term.)

So the Bogey champ now joins forces with a ”Neatness Queen of the Third Grade.” (another story) Good thing we’re past the age of procreation. We’d spawn golfers holding up the game, doling out autographs and endeavoring for perfection with flowery penmanship.

In the midst of camping for the past two weeks, I also drove 1,000 miles to attend a family reunion. Of course it was fun, but it was also funny.

Apparently no one expected such a large turnout. We met at the Pizza Ranch, but the room which held 30 was definitely not large enough as a slew of cousins appeared along with my aunts. Our party should have taken the restaurant, and the other diners taken the private room! The wait staff became overwhelmed. We had to prepay for the buffet and there was a loooooong line. Thus, we were told that if we were there for the reunion party to just go in and pay later.

Nobody on the staff gave us any attention as we ate and sat throughout the restaurant. We all laughed at our good upbringing, paying for our meals and not skipping out as we passed a ”buy one get one half off” coupon among us.

Family. Good times in the Good Life.

This story in world news gave me a smile.

THE MAN WHO GAVE THE WORLD THE TRAPPER KEEPER DIES AT 85. E. Bryant Crutchfield, a paper-company executive who in the 1980s brought three-ringed order to the chaos of millions of grade-school backpacks with a plasticand-cardboard triptych he called the Trapper Keeper, died Sunday at a hospice center in Marietta, Ga. He was 85.

Who wrote that beautiful line, ”brought three-ringed order to the chaos of millions of grade-school backpacks?” There was no byline. The images of messy backpacks turning into ordered binders are vivid.

Of course, I never had a Trapper Keeper, I was a little older than that audience, but I looked longingly at them whenever Autumn school supply sales began. Rest in peace, Mr. Crutchfield.