mandag, oktober 09, 2006

I Love Lucy. Seriously.

We may as well jam wads moss and ragweed up my nose when I go camping, because that's how I felt on Saturday evening near Taylor's Falls, Minnesota. Oy. I was knocked out. I had to take a couple naps. When I was coherent enough to drink beer at the fire--right there, the tepid sympathy you might extend to me vanishes, I know--I had trouble contributing to the conversation.

But Matt did whittle a really nice wooden knife. And I distinctly recall Andy saying, "I like whittling, but my problem is I never know what to make."

Loads of laughter from Friday to Sunday. Sometimes I wish I just had life on permanent record because life is just lovely.

All yesterday I did my best to stay awake, and I made it quite a spell. This was aided by one of those days that just keeps developing a new, spirited layer. I met a pack of wolves for brunch at Costello's. Then the womenfolk ventured off on a quest at the mall while the menfolk did what we do best, sit on our duffs and tell stories. Keith, Tim and I stopped at the Happy Gnome, then met back up with Kassandra, Kym and Tempest at Moscow on the Hill.

Suddenly it was quiz time in Minneapolis. Dingley was hosting, so we all ventured to the Lake Street Garage where many other fine kids were having a hoolie.

Splendid, each minute of it.

When I reached the point of falling asleep in my chair, Lucy took mercy on me and drove me back to the quaint hamlet we call Saint Paul. Thank you, Lucy. You are a dear.

Ah, but natch to poor sleep. I woke at 2:20. Again. It's starting to creep me out.
Weblog Commenting and Trackback by