Independence Day And So On...

07/07/2006

How I spent my “Fourth” weekend…

I spent a number of hours this past holiday weekend engaged in puzzlement, not a conundrum; I was puzzled by a puzzle.  Well, the weekend started out, actually, on the 30th.  I took a vacation day on Friday just so I could play in my expansive yard.  There was a crap-load of outside chores to be accomplished in a short period of time - grass to cut (about five acres worth), trimming to be done, plus a little straightening of the habitual abode.  We had company coming.  A daughter, a son-in-law and four grandchildren were about to grace us with a visit.  We love it when they come and love it when they leave.  God intended it that way.

So after purchasing eight gallons of gas for the mowers - note “mowers” not “mower” - I went home and donned my grass cuttin’ attire - aka shorts, a t-shirt and my special grass cuttin’ shoes, and began to mow.  Mowing five acres is a tedious job, and it is pretty damn boring.  Just me, the elements, my trusty 60” cut Cub Cadet, a bottle of water, and miles and miles of grass.  Have I written about how much I hate yard work?

Long story endless:  Our guests, we figured, wouldn’t get in our vicinity until about 5pm, or later, that day.  I had plenty of time to get my jobs done, take a shower and be sparkling clean and ready for the onslaught and utter pandemonium that occurs when the grandchildren are in our home.  Not so fast, zoo-breath: At about 2pm I got a call that they were but 100 miles away.  That sort of put a kink in my plan.  Luckily I finished the mowing, it only took three and a half hours, and at least the grass was ready for company.

The grandchildren are 11, 9, 7 and 5-years old.  These are special kids.  These kids are special to me.  These kids are the children of my step-daughter and her husband.  My own flesh and blood granddaughter is special just because of whom she is and I love her dearly.  The step-grandchildren are special because I made them so and I allow them to be.  They all call me “Dave.”

Once they hit the house, all hell breaks loose.  One of them immediately heads for the refrigerator and swings open both the doors as he looks for snacks.  These kids are junk-food junkies.  There is wrestling and throwing and crying and pouting and shouting and lots of love.  And I get to do special grandfatherly things with them.

I have a “Dave” toy in my garage - a Jeep Wrangler.  This weekend I took off the doors and the canvas sides, leaving the canvas roof in case it rained.  I took Justin (who gets a kick out of asking me for $100) out for a ride on some of the trails cut through the fields around the farm.  There is about 115 acres of undeveloped land surrounding our little piece of Heaven.  We managed to get airborne a couple of times as we maneuvered the Jeep over some bumps and ruts in the fields.  Justin had a death-grip on the handle on the dash board, but loved every second of the ride.  I suppose doing forty-miles an hour on a bumpy, grass-covered field yields some scary moments for a 9-year old...I know it did me.  I took the same route with Jared (the intrepid 7-year old who not long ago asked me if I have ever had sex) and got pretty much the same reaction, except Jared wanted to go faster…so we did.

Lukey, the five-year old, managed to make it to the local hospital’s emergency room for the second time in two visits, this time with a leg malady of some sort that went down as “undetermined origin.” The first time he wiped out on his bike.  Lukey is a piece of work.

Ole David managed to get the scornful eye from the Nancy after I allowed my precious Jessica (blond hair, blues eyes and gorgeous) to drive my car around the farm.  She actually did very well for an eleven-year old’s first time behind the wheel, but I will have to say there were a few moments as we drove along the path just ten feet from the shoreline of the lake that even I was a tad uneasy.  Mother and grandmother gave me the evil eye for that move.  Jessica was more than pleased with her accomplishment and wanted to do it again.  She got her mom and her grandmother to go with her.  She also got her first experience with “backseat drivers.” A one point, having listened to her mother to tell her to slow down and her grandmother’s banter from the back seat, Jessica told them, “Don’t make me stop this car!” I assume it is a phrase often used when mom or dad is driving.

Saturday, we all piled in the cars and went into beautiful downtown Berkeley Springs, population 711, had lunch and visited some of the shops.  Nancy, God bless her, bought the puzzle, a puzzle with 1000 pieces.  That’s 1000 little pieces with bits and parts of cats on them.  Not my cup of tea, but the kids, their mother and their grandmother seem to enjoy the mental torture puzzles are meant to create.  Sunday morning at 12:30am, long after I fell into a deep sleep, Nancy quit working on it and meandered into the bed.  Sunday morning there were still about 800 pieces yet to be placed within the border of the puzzle. 

Needless to say the visit was wonderful.  We had a terrific time with the children and their parents and sadly waved goodbye as they drove off Sunday morning.  But, we do know they will be back and the enjoyment will be had again.  Grandkids are the bomb.  I love waving at them.

Nancy continued to spend a few minutes here and a few minutes there affixing pieces in the puzzle.  Eventually, damn her, I could no longer resist the temptation and allure of the puzzle, and, I, too, began to pick at it here and there.  We had it spread out on a table, the entire table in fact.  Neither Nancy nor I could walk by it without picking up a piece and making an attempt to place it.  The puzzle nearly drove me nuts.  I got up earlier than Nancy on the Fourth, made some coffee and almost immediately began to work on the puzzle.  By the time Nancy was up and at it, I was engaged in mumbling dirty words under my breath as none of the pieces on the table seemed destined to go anywhere within the border of the daggone puzzle.

July 4th was a great day.  Nancy and I went to a movie, “Click,” and had some pretty good belly laughs.  Then we had a late lunch at the Outback, and then meandered on home and worked on the damn puzzle.  We probably spent two to three hours placing pieces of cats into other pieces of cats (if she ever buys another puzzle this marriage is over), but we finally placed the last piece into it, took a picture of the completed masterpiece, and went to bed.  The puzzle was complete and I slept like a baby.  I awoke on the 5th with an overwhelming desire to kick one of our cats.

So much for my sixty-third Fourth of July, and that is all I have to say about that.