Wochende
I bet your July 4th wasn’t as awesome as mine. Yeah? Oh yeah? Oh, you traversed the Grand Canyon on horseback, ingested more than the recommended dose of peyote, and woke up next to Anne Hathaway? Okay, you win.
Our weekend started Thursday night with a quick dinner and cake at my parents’ house, and then a lot of packing, finally getting to bed at something like 1am. We were up shortly before 7 to continue packing, rousting the offspring, and getting on the road to Strasburg, PA (home of the world famous Strasburg Railroad, which we did not see) for a lengthy family reunion of sorts at my aunt and uncle’s farm there. Upon arrival, I immediately threw my new golf clubs in my dad’s car and set out to Lancaster Host Resort for a “quick” 18 that lasted 4.5 hours. My slice and push are abysmal as ever, but I will say this: the putter is spectacular. I kept swishing 8- to 12-foot putts like I knew what I was doing, although I had a hard time getting the speed of anything longer, and as you might expect my golf game requires a great deal of long putts.
After the game we settled in for the evening at the farm, where Charles chased cows and sheep and I drank staggering amounts of beer. There was also a chicken-grilling competition; I remember eating it, but do not remember tasting it.
Saturday we loaded up and went to a nearby elementary school where I discovered the following important fact: if you are overweight and wear athletic shorts that are too snug and display every delicious contour of your ample posterior, the rest of the players will be distracted and you can go 4 for 5. If you also position yourself at a spot in the outfield where few balls get to you, you don’t have to be a defensive liability. When most of the players are over 50 or under 15, you’re not gonna have to spear a lot of line drives in center field.
My team won in dramatic fashion; down by three runs with one out in the bottom of the 7th, my uncle Marty hit an inside-the-park grand slam. After two days of lengthy athletic efforts, even two days later, I can barely walk. Muscles hurt that I guarantee did not even exist before this weekend.
In the afternoon, we ate some more food and enjoyed a beer-tasting contest, after which I fell asleep in an easy chair and completely missed the fireworks.
Sunday morning started at 5:30am, when Josephine decided she wanted to be up and around; Sarah had put the kids to bed the night before while I sawed wood, so it fell to me to entertain the child. Charles came down around 7, but we let Sarah sleep in until 8am because she needed the rest; this later turned out to be a Mistake of the first order.
We planned to go to my mom’s family’s ancestral church, Grace Lutheran, where we would all sing in the choir and play in a small brass ensemble and in general take over the musical duties of the church for the day. When I woke Sarah at 8, and told her we needed to leave for the church by 9am, she said “There’s no way that’s happening.” It had not occurred to me that she would have to get herself ready, a half-hour effort, but also feed Josephine and get her and Charles ready. It was agreed that I would ride to the church with Charles in my parents’ car, thereby making it possible for Sarah to be out the door by 10.
Went to church, had a good rehearsal, Charles behaved himself, and then around 10 I got two texts from Sarah.
You aren’t going to believe this but the car won’t start!
Help!
I called, and she said the car was making noises that indicated to me that the battery was fried, which isn’t wholly unexpected since the car’s almost 4 years old. We agreed that she’d just stay at the farm, and we’d hustle back from church and get the car jumped so we could actually drive home.
The service was very nice. I sang my big solo, which is always intoxicating to do from a balcony at the back of the church because it’s extremely enjoyable to see people’s heads whip around with looks on their faces that say “Holy crap, that guy’s loud!” Satisfying.
After the service I grabbed Charles from the nursery and we hustled on back. Grumps parked his car next to the Honda and, while he got out his jumper cables, I decided to see exactly what noise the car made when the ignition was turned. In my case it hesitated, and then started. I thought Sarah would light something on fire, but she took the news in stride; I think she had been drinking for most of the morning.
After that we drove home, spent some time at the pool, and passed out like meth addicts after a home-cooked meal.
