reunion

We do it every year: the three of us, best law school friends, get together for a long weekend. In recent years we've been meeting up in Wisconsin. Fond memories, easy for one of us, some family still here for another. We'd rent an AirBnB and spend the hours talking, sometimes over a jigsaw puzzle, sometimes a glass of wine (though that has gone down significantly -- no need to stock up on lots of that anymore!). 

For the last few years, I've been a bit of a wet blanket: three years ago, I had had knee surgery days before the reunion. I was in pain and probably complaining or at least not moving much for the duration. Two years ago I had a hacking cough that woke the dead (leftover from some bug that lasted too long). Last year? I can't remember what last year delivered but I'm sure I was in some ways either less able or impaired or something, because that seems to be my contribution to our time together and sure enough, this year I am the person with the mental baggage of someone who is still reeling from shock. From what, you ask? From the moves, the dogs, and most importantly from a friend being ill.

So, goal for me -- to take in each good moment and not spend our time fretting at something over which I have no control.

But first, my solo morning. My pup is being mischievous. After having a brilliant week of having no accidents, she has had three in the space of 24 hours. I think she is testing the waters. As in -- can I get away with not holding it in? I try to communicate no, without seeming like I am holding anything against her. These days you have to tread gently with dogs -- they have fragile souls that are easily thrown out of wack by a harsh tone.

Breakfast. Peaceful.

(another frequent visitor to my porch lavender)

 

I take her to doggie daycare and drive over to the airport to pick up Diane. Friend number one in terms of arrival, though not in terms of length of time we've known each other. Barbara, friend number two in terms of arrival, has been my pal since 1981. Diane? Only since 1982. 

A torrential rain hits me on my drive. Buckets of water coming at me from all sides. I can't see the road, I can't see anything at all except a light in the car, flashing to tell me all the safety features are disabled by the deluge. (This strikes me as unfortunate since you would think I need more, not fewer safety features while being blinded by a storm.)

I survive. Diane lands. Eventually. All rain is gone, we drive home. 

So long as we are on that side of town, I stop over at Madison Sourdough to pick up croissants and such. Diane has been traveling since 4 a.m. CT. I think the first thing on the agenda is to feed her.

We take it easy. Meaning we talk. 

 

 

 

And pick up Millie who of course has to voice her fears that I am exposing her to someone who definitely is here to strangle her and stuff her down the garbage disposal. (She gets over it quickly enough. Millie is a dog of loud "first time" greetings but a mellow albeit mischievous temperament.)

We eat supper of crackers and cheese and then I go out to pick up Barbara at the airport. Also a day of travel for her. I bet she is tired. I bet Diane is tired. Not me though! I can honestly say that I feel too tired to be tired. Still, we are reasonable people. We are also older people. We go to sleep just slightly after midnight!

 

 

 

with so much love...