My mother called me at 8:30 p.m. on the 14th, and I thought there must have been a tragedy, because since when is my mother awake at 10:30? And also I thought "Drat!" because I wanted to leave for the airport by 9:15 and was still attempting to nap a bit. Having answered the phone, I was obliged to talk to her until the bitter end, since I lie badly overall and worse without warning. I figured she wouldn't talk for a whole 30 minutes, not on her nickel, and I listened to her complain that I had sent her a broken picture of Haitch and Increase (the same picture my sister received without problem), which reminded me of other babies. I told her about the two new neighbor-babies and walking Inga and said that maybe my coworker would have her baby before I got back.
"Back from where?"
At this point I still could have dissembled, if I were a different person with any wit. But no. "Just make sure you come to CLH's on Sunday."
I had an exit row all to myself, which did not make up for the flight's being delayed 90 minutes but helped. It meant CLH could sleep that extra time, though, since I left her voicemail. She picked me up just before I got to the front of the line at the Logan Starbucks, which is not really a Starbucks and so had a sign reading "We apologize for the inconvenience but we cannot except the Starbucks card" [sic]. If I'd got to the front, I could have corrected it (I did so Tuesday night, buying a Brambleberry Tazo to make up for my rudeness).
I told her about my flub as soon as I was in the car. "Damn it, Jwaas, I shouldn't've even told you that you were coming." Yeah.
I got to see the whole house, all over, and get to know it very well: it rained four out of the six days I was there, and the Sunday was the family cookout. RPR and husband and my adorable niece came too. I thought I would never admit any child to be more beautiful than ZBD, so I'll have to say they tie. And Emlet too. Three (or four, including Kitty of course) different beauties: how blessed I am to have as my own the three most beautiful children in the world.
Two of my nieces. Someone recently asked, probably only for clarification, "You call your sister's cat your niece?" Well, yeah. As much as my nonblood friend's child is my niece, my blood sister's nonhuman child is my niece. I don't see a problem there.
Monday we went to the lake, and I lay half off a raft to whose foot CLH clung and butterfly-propelled us to the west end. Even she with her vision couldn't make out the boat launch, and that's a curiosity. Also some new forsworn house is going up on the other side of the hill, not visible from the lake but the missing trees make the ridgeline look like it's missing a tooth or several. Rant. I kicked us back--does this count as a half-mile swim?--to the beach, which is being Renovated in a Change Is Bad way. The pebbly beach is sliding downhill into the water--last summer there was a bit of a point and this year it's bigger. An admittedly handsome stone retaining wall is being built, but I wonder how long it will last: the rockpile is within inches of the surface this year and I wonder if that unmortared stone wall will become a rock jetty.
Then we sat and read, me this time with Iain Pears since here was no television to render me incapable of anything needing more attention than trash.