Relative Something

Not my cousins. We are back at the lake again, this time for a special weekend that will include Cyndie’s cousins on her mom’s side. Marie had one sister, Joan (pronounced JoAnne), who had four kids. The kids are each married and will be joining all of the four Friswold siblings and their spouses without any of our kids for a distraction-free weekend of laughter, memories, and bolstering of the family bonds.

Cyndie and I arrived mid-afternoon yesterday, picking up groceries in Hayward for the weekend that Cyndie purchased online from home on Wednesday night. She was so excited to discover it was possible. There was a childlike glee that had her mentioning several times on the drive up how pleased it made her feel. It’s hard to deny the ease and convenience of avoiding the crunch of other shoppers up and down aisles and getting through the checkout lanes, and instead, pulling up to the front of the store to have all our groceries placed in our car.

Some people wouldn’t want to settle for someone else choosing their produce, but for the convenience, Cyndie is willing to flex her standards. The corn I was tasked with shucking all looked more than adequate to me. When asked by someone about how they did with selections, Cyndie rated it a solid medium.

Faint praise, maybe, but certainly acceptable.

Being the first ones up, we immediately set about opening shades and windows, turning on ceiling fans, putting away groceries, and refilling hummingbird feeders. The landscape pond needed water added. The new mattress for the hide-a-bed needed to be unboxed and allowed to expand.

Most of the preparations were in place by the time Barry, Carlos, and Marie arrived. They made it just in time to accept an invitation to join folks from three other Wildwood Lodge Club member families for a happy hour pontoon cruise.

I don’t know why we bothered with a dinner plan for later in the evening. I ate more than a meal’s worth of scrumptious appetizers throughout the practically 2-hour float around the majority of the lake.

Never ones to stop a meal plan already in motion, the Friswold hosts whipped up a feast of grilled burgers, corn-on-the-cob, salad, and potatoes after we got back to shore. It was about three hours past my preferred dinner time and only about an hour away from my bedtime, but I nibbled half-servings of two options. It is difficult for me to lie down to sleep when I’ve still got a meal in my stomach; however, they serve up some irresistibly delicious cuisine.

I made a worthy exception to my usual routine.

This afternoon, all the other parties will gradually arrive, and the games, excited banter, precious memories, raucous laughter, and likely too much food will unfold naturally. It is reasonable to assume it will be sustained for the ensuing 48 hours.

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