Our last day in town, so to speak.
A day for laundry and beginning to gather together the little pieces of our life that we lug in and out of wherever it is we're staying to lend a sense of normalcy and routine to our gypsy existence. Toys to be placed in the kids' backpacks, deciding which of our foodstuffs will get packed with us and which are close enough to expired or used up to throw out. Making sure we've not left any socks in corners. It's not glamorous work, but we're accustomed to it and efficient.
Gena went to do laundry in the early afternoon. The kids played games and watched a little of Star Wars: The Phantom Menace that happened to be showing on TV. I watched enough of it to confirm my disgust in the most recent trio of Star Wars installments. The weather was much warmer - in the 70's. The little town of Weirs Beach was filled with the sound of motorcycles with the influx of weekend warriors following the sun and the water and other people seeking sun and water. Motorcycles seem to be the 'toy' of choice out here, and it's interesting to see what people in different parts of the country invest in to spend their leisure time in.
It was a laid back day, the last we'll have until Wednesday of next week and our first full day in St. Louis again. It took me forever to transcribe the directions from our present locale to Buffalo, New York where we'll be staying Sunday night. It's about a 450-mile journey. The first half is on back-road highways, with only a brief interstate stint as we leave New Hampshire and enter Vermont. We won't see another interstate until we hit New York state. Kinda crazy. The directions (in my tiny scrawl) take up two pages of a hotel stationary pad.
We purchased a Sorry! game in New Jersey on our way to Pennsylvania, and it has quickly become a favorite way for the kids to pass time. They don't always finish their games, but they're always eager to start one. I marvel at how well they play together. The first few games involved tears and hurt feelings, but now it's old hat to them. Any time one of them bumps another back to start, they are reminded to invoke the sacred namesake word, "Sorry!", which seems to be enough to soothe any feathers that might have been ruffled.
Probably a good lesson for all of us. Or at least me.
No comments:
Post a Comment