Beautiful Weekend

What a beautiful, busy weekend for me. It started Friday night, with an Indians game with my family and my cousin, whom I hadn't seen in many years. My daughter was shy, since Bill was a stranger to her. My son was pretty typical, for him. He became a handful once the game was in the latter innings and finally broke down by game's end. We were able to catch most of the fireworks from just outside the field, between the Jake and the Gund (now Progressive Field and Quicken Loans Arena). His bawling turned to leaps of joy when he saw my car. He can be such a silly boy.

Saturday began with French toast for my wife - her favorite. It had been awhile since I had made French toast, so I made a bit of a hash of it. I allowed the egg to soak too much into the bread. My second attempt on Sunday morning was much better.

As usual, I made a to-do list for myself over my morning coffee and paper. Mow the lawn, wash the cars, take the family on a walk, etc. If I don't do this, I piss away the weekend in front of my computer then wonder what I did come Monday morning. We did the walk Saturday afternoon. From the spillway to the boathouse on Hinkley Lake, and back. It was enough to get the legs stretched and the blood pumping. Hope, I fear, had the hardest time. We will have to do more of this if we are to do any significant sight seeing at Yellowstone and Grand Teton in comfort.

I washed and waxed both cars. They are both showing their age with dings, scratches, and rust. But at least they are clean. The lawn looks great, which was my contribution this weekend. My wife's were a pair of delicious dinners - crusted pork chops on Saturday and an antipasto salad for Sunday's supper. Granted, "antipasto" means "before the meal," but for us it made a nice meal in itself. It featured basil grown on our back porch and went well with a small glass of sangria.

On Sunday, I wiped the dust from my bicycle. It hung on the wall, a garage decoration, for the past two years. The temptation proved to be too much for me. I took her down, wiped her up, and rode my bike around the neighborhood. It worked fine. Surprisingly, so did I.

I needed weed killer. My wife needed more Lysol wipes. I decided to take my bike to the store a few miles away. After all, it's almost entirely downhill. Easy. I made sure I was well-hydrated and brought water with me. Nothing to note on the trip down, other than the lack of a bike rack in front of the Giant Eagle (there was one before they remodeled), so I locked up at the racks in the center between the grocery store and the Home Depot (which was my destination, anyway). I ended up buying a gallon of weedkiller, so my folding panniers came in handy. I was more than halfway back home, facing a hill that I didn't remember, when I received a call from my wife. She had bought the wrong thing to go in her antipasto, so could I be a doll and go to the grocery store for her? She needed mozzarella pearls.

Meanwhile, behind me, a skunk almost made it across the road.

I don't know why the skunk was out during the day. I don't know why it decided to cross Center Road. I do know that it was run over at the curb on my side of the road. Fur, guts, blood and stink.

On my way back to the grocery store I got to experience the sight and smell of a freshly-killed skunk. I found it notable how quickly flies were drawn to it. Shit has nothing on a freshly-killed skunk for attracting flies. Worse, I got to renew this experience on my way back home.

So today I am sore. Mostly muscle aches in my legs, but nothing feels unaffected. But it also feels good, if that makes any sense. Good enough for me to do again, if only for pleasure.